#husk's step-children

[plumomi]

Husk's kids from his human life (OCs)

Top row we have his only biological kids-- two sons with his first wife (Julia) named Max and Viktor. After Husk and Julia split, he didn't really see them much anymore. The boys lived relatively good lives and died of natural causes in old age. Then they went to Heaven.

In the middle row is Husk's first step-daughter, Kimberly. He married her mother (Tamara) when Kim was 5 years old, and they divorced after about 14 years (this was his longest relationship). He still remained relatively close with Kim afterward, as he's the only father-figure she ever had. Kimberly also lived into old age and died a peaceful death. She is a mouse angel in Heaven and is more content appearing her age than her step-brothers are; they instead took forms aligning more with the prime of their lives (*I headcanon that while sinner demons don't have a choice in how they look after death, including still appearing the age they were when they died, winner angels have more leeway and can be whatever age they are most comfortable appearing as).

The last row is Husk's step-children from his third and final marriage. Both of their afterlife forms are based on donkeys. The elder child is Jennifer. She was 13 when Husk married her mom, Helen, in the late 1960s. The relationship did not last very long. Jennifer was murdered by her college boyfriend at 18, and her parents split shortly after (it was more the final straw in a marriage that was already failing).

Her younger brother, Rob, was distraught. He and Husk had a falling out, which they never recovered from. Rob cut himself off from the family, and Husk passed away only a few years later. Rob grew up to be a bitter man and did not make many good life choices. While his sister went to Heaven, when Rob died many decades later, he did not. Even in Hell, he never attempted to reconnect with Husk. He sort of just gave up and was killed again in the exterminations not long after arriving.

[imaginedisish]

Poker Face (Logan Howlett x Fem!Reader)

A/N: OKAY! Here is the strip poker fic! This is not a request, but there are a few requests I really like, so I'm most likely going to write one of those next! Could not waste the opportunity to use Lady Gaga's "Poker Face" as the inspiration here. I hope you guys enjoy!

Summary: You and Logan are alone in the mansion for the evening, and after a few drinks, your game of Blackjack turns into strip poker...

Warnings: 18+ Sexually Explicit Content MINORS DNI!!! Oral (f!receiving), Fingering, Unprotected PIV, multiple orgasms, softdom!Logan(?), cocky!Logan, alcohol consumption (neither reader nor Logan get drunk), feelings, friends to lovers, strip poker!, f!reader/afab reader, cursing, def some grammatical errors (proofread this one between weird times), I think that's it!

Word Count: 4,025 how did I do that???

The house is empty. Quiet. It’s so strange, almost eerie, but honestly welcome. You can’t remember the last time you were ever so alone. Not lonely—alone. Comfortably and peacefully alone. 

Scott, Jean, and Storm took most of the children off on an overnight camping trip, while Hank, Kurt, and Charles were on a mission with some of the older mutants. Rogue and Gambit were out somewhere, leaving you and Logan in the mansion alone. 

You’re sitting at the kitchen table, back to the window, looking out at the empty room. Everything is untouched—neatly put away. You know things will be back to normal by tomorrow afternoon—dishes in the sink, shoes all over the floor, kids shouting down the halls. But for now, there’s nothing. No disruptions. No—

“Oh, hey,” Logan mumbles, stepping through the doorway and into the kitchen. “Didn’t know you were in here.”

You smile, trying your best not to let your eyes flit up and down his body. He’s wearing one of his tight beaters and a pair of jeans. You’d be lying if you said you didn’t want him—if you said that being alone in the mansion with him wasn’t somewhat overwhelming. You’ve wanted Logan since the day you joined the X-Men, just a few months ago. And while you’ve become close friends, you know it’ll never progress further than that. 

“Wanna join me?” You ask, tilting your head to the chair across from you. 

Logan smirks and nods. He walks to the fridge, swings open the French doors, and reaches inside. “Got something for us, actually,” he says, glasses clinking as he rummages through the fridge. He pulls out whatever he’s looking for, turning around, and revealing a 6-pack of beer. 

“No way!” You shout excitedly. “Logan Howlett, breaking the rules as always.”

He sits down across from you, placing the beers in the center of the table. “You know you love it,” he husks, grinning widely. 

You can feel the heat rising to your chest. He’s right. “I do,” you whisper, hoping he doesn’t catch on to the implications of your words. If he does, he doesn’t show it. He grabs a beer by its neck, pops off the cap with ease, and holds the bottle out towards you. Your fingers brush his as you take the beer from him, his hands warm and surprisingly soft. The contact is fleeting, effervescent. You wish he could touch you again. 

You bring the bottle to your lips, the cold beer a distraction from your all-too-hot thoughts. You watch as Logan pulls a bottle for himself, his muscles flexing as he removes the cap. He brings the bottle to his mouth and knocks it back, his throat bobbing as he swallows. 

“So…” You trail off, doing your all to ignore the way his tongue swipes across his upper lip as he places the beer back down on the table. You take another swig of your beer, ready to down the entire thing just to give yourself the confidence to say something. “D-did you wanna do anything?” You take another big gulp. 

Logan smiles. “Not sure,” he says, taking a sip. “You got anything in mind, princess?”

Your heart flutters at the familiar nickname. You rub a finger up and down the beer bottle, streaking the condensation. “We could play a game,” you offer, your eyes finding his. “Cards?”

Logan hums in affirmation as he knocks his beer bottle back again. He’s already practically finished. “You wanna play Blackjack?” He asks, taking a final sip before standing up and walking over to the kitchen island. He rifles through a couple of drawers before finding a pack of cards. He sits back down across from you, grabbing another beer and cracking it open. 

“Sure,” you answer, watching as Logan slips the cards from their box and expertly shuffles them. He thumbs the cards, dexterously letting them slide through his long fingers. He deals you the first card, face up, and then does the same for himself. You have a king of hearts, and Logan has a five of diamonds. He deals again, and you’re given a nine of clubs. It’s a good hand. Better than Logan’s, so far. He deals himself another card, looking at it briefly before putting it face down on the table. 

He smirks up at you. “Hit, or stay?” He asks.

You roll your eyes. “Stay, obviously.” He shakes his head, smiling as he deals himself another card. 

“Well, princess,” he says, showing you all three of his cards now. Five of diamonds, queen of hearts, and six of spades. “Looks like I won.” He’s smug as he grabs your cards and shuffles them back into the deck. 

You scoff and let him deal you in again.

You’ve only had two drinks, but there’s something about being with Logan that makes you feel like you’re drunk. You’ve been playing Blackjack for almost forty-five minutes now, round after round. Despite this being a game of chance, it seems like Logan wins far more often than you do. 

And yet, something gives you the sudden confidence to up the ante. 

“Lo?” You ask, taking a swig of your third beer, now. He looks up at you and hums, dealing the next round. You lean across the table. “What if we…” you trail off. “Made this more exciting?” 

Logan looks across the table under hooded eyes. You can sense the sudden shift in his expression, and you know he can sense the suggestiveness in your voice. The corner of his mouth turns up—a sly, half smile. “Exciting how, princess?”

You’re nervous now—all talk and no action. “Maybe we could bet somehow?” You offer, but Logan knows that’s not truly what you mean. He cocks his head, eyes narrowing.

And then he says exactly what you’re thinking—as if he can read your mind. “What about strip poker?” 

Your eyes widen and you swallow harshly. Logan is focused on you, still folding the cards into each other. You finally nod your head. “Sure, sounds fun.” 

Logan quickly deals the first cards. You have an ace, and Logan has a ten of diamonds. He places another card down for you—seven of clubs—and another face down for himself. 

“Hit or stay?” He asks, his eyes set on yours. He’s leaning closer to you than he was before. 

You take a deep breath. “Stay,” you answer, your voice trembling ever so slightly now. 

Logan shakes his head. “Wouldn’t have mattered anyway,” he says, flipping over his second card. It’s an ace of hearts. He collects your cards without another word, but his eyes are still glued to you. 

You bite your lip nervously and decide to tug away your sweatshirt. You’re wearing a thin tank top underneath, much to your relief. Logan’s eyes flit up and down your body, drinking you in. 

You drape the sweatshirt across the back of your chair, your eyes narrowing in Logan’s direction. “You have to be cheating,” you accuse sarcastically.

Logan grins ear to ear as he deals again, looking down at the table. “Just lucky,” he says, the words stopping your heart. “Very lucky.” He looks back up at you. Your breath catches in your throat. 

There’s a four of hearts in front of you this time. You roll your eyes at the low card. Logan—naturally—has a jack of diamonds. He places another card in front of you, a nine of clubs, and another face down for himself.

“Hit,” you mutter before he can ask the question. He places a seven of diamonds in front of you and shakes his head. He reveals his other card: an eight of spades. You smile widely, self-satisfied as you grab your beer by the neck and take a long swig. You lean back in your chair, watching as Logan pulls his beater up and over his head. 

He’s perfect, you think to yourself. Sure, he’s all chiseled abs and muscles, but he truly is beautiful. And you hope he knows it. “Happy now?” He asks, dealing the next hand. 

Heat spreads across your chest and down to your stomach. Your clothes feel tight, itchy. You try your best to ignore the way Logan makes you feel—to ignore the way you long to press your thighs together for some sort of friction. You—very obviously—are failing horrifically. 

“Hit, or stay?” Logan asks. You’re so distracted by him that you completely missed the deal. You look down to see an eight of hearts and a six of diamonds. Logan has a king of spades face up, and his other card face down. 

You raise your eyebrows, mulling it over in your mind. “Hit,” you finally spit out, and Logan deals you a ten of clubs. 

Oh. 

“Well shit,” you mumble. Logan chuckles as you stand up, struggling to decide what to take off. You look down at your athletic shorts and decide those are the next to go. You slip them down your legs and place them on the back of the chair with your sweatshirt. 

Logan’s throat bobs as his eyes trail up and down your legs. He isn’t laughing anymore; there’s something serious in his eyes, something dark. He works his jaw as you sit back down across from him. He looks pained as he deals the next hand. 

You cock your head to the side as he places a queen of hearts in front of you. “Are you okay?” You ask.

“’M’fine,” he answers curtly, drawing an ace of diamonds for himself. He quickly places another card down for you—a five of spades—and another face down for him. 

But you can tell there’s something wrong. It’s the way he moves, the way he fidgets in his seat. You reach out tentatively across the table, your fingers brushing against his. “Logan,” you soothe. “We don’t have to play if you don’t want to.” 

His eyes find yours, and he smiles softly, looking at your cards and then flipping his over. He got it. Twenty-one. Blackjack. “I think this game is almost over,” he says, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. 

You roll your eyes and grab the hem of your tank top, slowly pulling it up your body and over your head. Now all that’s left is your sports bra and your panties. You look across the table, and there’s Logan, eyes locked on you. “One more round?” You ask. 

But he ignores you, pushing out his chair, standing up, and walking over to you. “No,” he murmurs. “I think we’re done with the game.” He pulls your chair out from the table and leans down over you, placing his hands on either armrest, caging you in. 

His eyes are dark and filled with lust, his lips just centimeters from yours. Your noses brush, his breath fanning across your cheeks. You can smell him—the pine and musk and tobacco, his shampoo, a hint of mint. 

“L-Lo,” you stutter, your heart beating out of your chest as he leans in closer. There’s something animalistic, something primal about the look in his eyes. 

“I know you want me, pretty girl,” he husks. “Could smell that pussy crying for me before you even took those little shorts off.” 

“I-I,” you stutter, unable to form a coherent thought, no less a sentence. Your thighs rub together involuntarily at Logan’s words, searching for friction, for relief. 

Logan chuckles darkly. “Yeah,” he hums, one hand dropping from the armrest and slipping in between your thighs. “That’s what I thought, princess.” 

He pushes your legs open, his fingertips trailing along your inner thigh, slowly climbing higher. He finally reaches your heat and two of his fingers drag teasingly through your clothed folds, up to your clit. “Haven’t even touched you yet and you’re already soaked,” Logan growls, stroking you through your panties. “Making a mess of the chair, hm?”

“Logan,” you whine, his fingers circling your clit and then pulling away. Before you can protest the loss of contact, he’s hoisting you up and out of the chair, his hands squeezing your ass, holding you tightly in his arms. You wrap your legs around his waist and bring your hands to the nape of his neck.

He carries you through the kitchen and into the hallway. He stops in his tracks and pushes your back against the wall, his lips finally finding yours. The kiss is rushed and frantic, like he just has to have you now, like he’s so hungry he’d die if he waited another second. He grinds his hips into yours, his erection straining through his jeans. 

“Need you, darlin’,” Logan mumbles against your lips, his chest heaving in time with yours. “Needed you this whole time.” He finally steps away from the wall and heads towards the stairs. You thread your fingers through Logan’s hair as he bites your lower lip, your pulse point, kissing you anywhere he can as he walks up the stairs and into his bedroom. 

He closes the door with a kick, and strides over to the bed in the center of the room, placing you down in the middle and crawling over you. His lips find yours again, his tongue darting out and sliding over your bottom lip, silently asking to be let inside. How could you ever say no? How could you ever not give him whatever it is he wants?

Logan balances on his forearm as his free hand trails up your body, warm and soft and soothing. He finds the hem of your bra and pulls the fabric over your tits. You arch your back, helping him slip it off the rest of the way. He finds your breasts, massaging gently before teasingly rolling your nipple under his thumb. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he huffs, moving to your other breast, pawing at the flesh, rolling over your nipple again, pinching lightly. His knee is settled between your legs, keeping you spread open for him. Your hips involuntarily rock against him, your needy core sliding up and down his thigh, searching for relief. 

Logan smiles against your lips and swallows your moans with a kiss before his touch suddenly disappears. His knee is no longer between your legs—the delicious friction gone. Your eyes flutter open and closed as he crawls down your body, kissing his way to the hem of your panties. 

“Lo,” you whimper as he places a chaste kiss to your clothed clit. “Please,” you beg, squirming underneath him. 

His arm latches around your waist, holding you down to the mattress while his other hand hooks inside the waistband of your panties. He tugs teasingly, taking his time as he slides your panties down your legs and tosses them off to the side. Logan settles himself between your thighs, his breath fanning against your cunt.

His arm is still firmly pushing you down into the mattress as he brings his face closer to where you need him most. “Wanna taste this pretty pussy, darlin’,” Logan grunts, and his tongue swipes through your folds, dragging across your slit and up to your clit. 

You curse under your breath as Logan licks another long stripe, his tongue finishing with a flick to your clit. “So fucking sweet,” Logan murmurs against you, the bass and vibration of his voice sending a burst of pleasure up your spine. “Knew you’d taste so good, pretty girl.” 

Logan pulls you closer to him, burying his face into your cunt like a man starved. He takes your clit between his lips, sucking roughly. His fingertips slide up your inner thigh, drawing higher and higher until he finds your folds. 

“Such a fucking tease,” Logan mutters, spreading your slick, prodding your entrance. “Using cards as an excuse to take your clothes off for me.” He shoves two fingers deep inside you as his tongue circles your clit. “Wanted me that bad, huh?” You can feel him smiling against you, all smug as he pulls his fingers from your slit and plunges back in. 

“Y-yes,” you stutter. His grip is like iron across your hips, keeping you in place, stopping you from squirming. “Wanted y-you so fucking bad.” 

He pumps his fingers in and out, down to the knuckles as he laps at you. He sucks at your clit again, harder this time. “I know, sweetheart,” Logan soothes, his thumb rubbing against your hip as his thrusts become faster, deeper. You’re already shaking underneath him—a trembling mess. “I’ve got you, pretty girl,” he coos. 

His tongue flicks your clit, swirling around the bud, adding more pressure with every stroke. Your walls flutter around his fingers, taking him in deeper. “Logan,” you whine, growing closer with every pump. “I-I—”

You’re cut off as he adds a third finger. “That what you needed, princess?” Logan asks, all cocky and self-assured. Your back arches off the mattress and Logan tightens his grip on your hips, holding you down as he devours you. “You’re not going anywhere until I’m finished with you.”

Your muscles clench around him at the words. His teeth graze lightly against your clit as he pulls the bud into his mouth, sucking roughly. “Lo…” You trail off, unable to use any semblance of language to communicate the way he’s making you feel. 

“Taking me so good, darlin’,” Logan praises, his fingers fucking into you unrelentingly. “Such a good fucking girl.” 

You’re so close, almost at that edge, pleasure burning through your every nerve ending. “’L-Lo I’m so—” you choke out.

“So fucked out that all you can say is my name,” Logan teases, sucking on your clit between sentences. “Wanna feel you come around my fingers.” He pushes himself in deeper. “Wanna taste it.”

“F-fuck,” you stutter, contracting around him uncontrollably. The tension building in your stomach finally snaps, the fire set free to burn through your body. “Logan!” You cry out, chanting his name like it’s a sacred prayer. And maybe it is.  

“I’ve got you,” Logan soothes, his tongue still lapping at you, his fingers still thrusting in and out. “I’m right here, let go for me.” He works you through your orgasm, his pumps slowing down as you ride out your high.

He pulls his fingers from your cunt, but his face doesn’t move. He’s still lapping at you, his tongue swiping through your folds, your slit, up to your clit. He’s drinking you in, savoring the taste of you. 

“Lo,” you whimper, running your hands through his hair, trying to guide him up your body. But he doesn’t budge. He grunts against your core, his tongue dragging through your heat. “Please,” you beg. “Need you, Lo.”

He licks one more long stripe through your folds before finally lifting his head to look up at you. Your release is painted across his lips, glistening in the moonlight. His tongue darts out, licking away the proof of your orgasm. 

“Need me, sweetheart?” He asks, sitting up, unbuckling his belt and letting it fall to the floor with a clink. He unbuttons his jeans and pulls his zipper down. “Need me to fuck you?” You nod, settling into the pillows at his headboard as he tugs his jeans and boxers down his legs. 

His cock springs free, bouncing against his stomach. You swallow nervously at the size of him. He settles on top of you, balancing on his forearm as he guides his cock to your entrance. 

Logan presses a chaste kiss to your lips as his tip nudges through your folds. “Thought about this for a long time,” he murmurs, the head of his cock bumping against your clit before sliding back down towards your entrance. His lips meet yours again, more hurried and hungry this time. “Always thinking about you.” And then he buries himself deep inside you, down to the hilt. He stalls, unmoving, giving you a moment to adjust to the size of him. He’s stretching you out, working you open. You grab his biceps, searching for purchase. Nothing could have prepared you for this, for the way he fills you up and makes you feel whole. 

“Feels so fucking good,” Logan whispers, pulling out and pushing all the way back in. “So tight, so perfect,” he praises, slowly setting a rhythmic pace, pumping in and out. 

His hand leaves the base of his cock and slips between your bodies, finding your clit—still sensitive from your first orgasm. His thumb strokes soft circles into the bud, drawing a moan from your lips. 

“Y-yes,” you pant as Logan plunges into you, faster and deeper with each thrust. You can feel him throbbing inside you, his cock dragging against your walls. It’s already too much—already more than you can handle. “F-feels so good, Lo.”

His hips snap against yours. “I know it does, pretty girl,” Logan coos, rutting into you. “Gonna take care of you. Gonna make you feel good.” His words go straight to your core, your muscles contracting around him. He curses under his breath at the feeling, your pussy taking him deeper as he sinks inside you. “Squeezing me already, sweetheart.”

He’s fucking into you, his pace growing reckless and punishing. He adds more pressure to your clit, rubbing harder, faster. You don’t know how much longer you’ll last, not with his lips at the shell of your ear whispering praises. 

“So fucking beautiful,” he husks, his hips rocking against yours. “Taking me so good, doing so well for me.” He’s hitting that sweet spot inside you with every thrust. He swallows your moans with starving, desperate, needy kisses—biting your lips, bruising them. He’s consuming you, taking everything you have to give him. 

He presses his forehead to yours, pounding into you, somehow finding a way to sink deeper inside. Your walls flutter around him, and you know you’re almost there. “Logan,” you croak, pushing your hips into his. 

“F-fuck,” he stammers, his cock twitching inside you, massaging your inner walls. “I know princess, know you’re close.” You can feel his thrusts faltering, growing sloppier. “Wanna feel you come on my cock, pretty girl.” You moan his name, wrapping your legs around his waist, keeping him close as he pumps in and out. “Come for me, darlin’.”

Logan pinches your clit and buries himself deep inside, sending you over the edge. Your orgasm crashes into you, your walls clenching around him, squeezing him tighter. “Stay,” you whisper, and he knows what you mean—knows exactly what you’re asking for.

He curses under his breath and his head falls to your shoulder as he comes undone, too, filling you up, spilling inside you. Everything is liquid heat. Your muscles contract and relax, your shoulders melting into the mattress. Everything feels hazy as Logan gently strokes your clit, thrusting in and out of you slowly, riding out your orgasms. 

He finally pulls out, wrapping his arms around your back and rolling you over so that you lay on top of his chest. He holds you close, his fingers trailing up and down your back. He kisses the crown of your head. “You okay?” He whispers into the silence of the room. 

“Yeah,” you answer, burying your face into his chest. “’M’perfect.”

He presses another kiss to the top of your head. “Wanted you for so long, princess,” he husks, his voice deep and raspy. 

“Wanted you, too, Lo,” you say, pressing a kiss to his chest. 

You can hear his heart beating; can hear every breath he takes. You can even hear the smile in his voice. “You have a terrible poker face, you know.”

You laugh softly, lifting your head from his chest. “I think it’s just fine, thank you very much.” He’s smiling down at you, his hair a mess, sweat still on his brow. He’s perfect. So fucking perfect. “And besides, you’re the one who suggested strip poker.”

He shakes his head, tugging you back down to his chest. “Should’ve played it sooner.” You can feel his chuckle reverberate through his lungs. “We can play again if you want…”“…but this time we skip the poker part.”

tags: @ilysmdovie12 @prettyseaveins @spiderset @figsnpassionfruits @silversprings-mp3 @movhoney @wittyjasontodd @theasiaabattoir @fanfic-writing-barbie @manipulatour @pedrohoe04 @derbygracie @honeyfewr

[chaoticace2005]

Alastor: You know, when I was alive people would always tell me I should find a woman and have kids.

Angel: Ouch, I feel you there Smiles. You’d ever find a way to get them to stop?

Alastor: Well-

Angel: Beyond murder.

Alastor:

Alastor: Well, they usually stopped asking me to have kids once I started talking about a plan I had if I were to be cursed with children.

Angel, scared: …what?

Alastor: Step one, have children.

Alastor: Step two, hide babies all around the house.

Alastor: Step three, when my kid asks "Where do babies come from?" Respond with "Where DON'T babies come from?" and pull one out of a cabinet.

Angel:

Angel: Holy shit I might have to use that if my family comes around asking.

Husk: You’re dead. You can’t have kids.

Angel: Try telling my nonna that.

[t0rturedangel]

How about the Hazbin hotel gang with seraphim child reader who just somehow appeared after ep 8

╭ . . . 𝚊𝚗 𝚊𝚗𝚐𝚎𝚕𝚒𝚌 𝚜𝚞𝚛𝚙𝚛𝚒𝚜𝚎 ੭

𝐇𝐀𝐙𝐁𝐈𝐍 𝐇𝐎𝐓𝐄𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐒𝐓 𝐗 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 ⿻  𝘏𝘰𝘸 𝘪𝘯 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘦𝘷𝘦𝘳 𝘭𝘰𝘷𝘪𝘯𝘨 𝘧𝘶𝘤𝘬 𝘥𝘪𝘥 𝘢 𝘴𝘦𝘳𝘢𝘱𝘩𝘪𝘮 𝘢𝘯𝘨𝘦𝘭 𝘨𝘦𝘵 𝘩𝘦𝘳𝘦??

⌦ 𝒲𝒜𝑅𝒩𝐼𝒩𝒢𝒮 ﹕angel dust - swearing, just him being him. Alastor - ill intent, possible swearing. Mentions of killing, mentions of blood. Nifty - she tries to kill you, dw you dont die. this too me so long im gonna cry

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ okay, firstly just know that the crew goes fucking crazy- I mean they just fought an entire army of exorcist angels and killed Adam, the first man Adam!! So they all think that you're sort of there to try and punish them all for it, so they all get ready to attack (even though you're LITERALLY a child, children are wild though)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ that's until Charlie, bless her heart, recognizes you (and depending on if you tried to defend her in court just like Emily) and rushes up to you, holding her arms out happily- thats until Angel Dust surprisingly tries to stop her

"It's you!" Charlie gasped, her eyes widening in a pleasant surprise, you were the third and youngest seraphim and much like your older sister Emily felt the need to defend Charlie and her idea of redemption- the thought of allowing those who suffered to see the error of their ways and correct them and then given their reward of eternal peace sounded brilliant, much like Emily you were horrified to learn of the exterminations. You were the first one to openly agree to what Charlie had said despite Adam's comments and facial expressions, you also helped Emily in trying to make the court see what was wrong with this method, unfortunately your plans did not work, though Charlie remembered your efforts and clearly she enjoys your presence. At the glee in her tone, you smiled and stepped forward, wanting to give a hug to the princess of hell though paused in confusion when someone looking oddly like a spider stopped her.

"Woah there toots!" the spider called out to his friend, grabbing her arm to halt her movement- Angel dust was staring both you and Charlie down- a look of uncertainty and distrust painted all over his face "Why ya going to rando angels? what if they were sent down here to finish the job for Adam?", Angel did have a point- you appeared put of no where and was just standing outside the hotel? pretty suspicious.. though Charlie is quick to cool things down "Oh no no no! They're alright, they're a friend! They mean no harm at all- in fact [name] was one of the angels who supported my idea!" she turned to you joyfully, smiling from ear to ear "We can trust them!" ... "okay but how did they end up here? in uh hell?" Husk piped up, his voice full of boredom- or annoyance (you can never really tell with husk, what an odd man) "Oh I fell! ... or rather- I threw myself out of heaven" you happily answered the question, giving everyone a quick second to process what the actual fuck you just said.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ thats how you joined the hotel! Pretty nice innit??

𝐂𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Charlie adores you! you're such a sweet little thing, you're a sweetie and are just so kind to everyone!! (at least that's what she likes to think)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she thinks of you as a little small sibling!, after all you're the youngest of the team and act just like her, plus she always wanted a little sibling so you're perfect!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ any ideas she thinks of or any redemption exorcises she runs them by you- to see if they can be more or less effective to get her friends into heaven

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Since Charlie could only stay in heaven for so long, she loves to ask you about heaven and how it was like- always being so invested in your stories, she honestly cannot get enough of them!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ also, Charlie is... painfully aware that she can never get into heaven, ever. Afterall, she's not only a hell-born but also literally the heir to the throne of hell so yeah there is no chance for her redemption, something she cannot handle- she cries knowing this but now that she has you- someone who ran from heaven, actively choosing to leave and come here gives her comfort. Now she'll never be alone, she has you and you have her!

𝐋𝐔𝐂𝐈𝐅𝐄𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ At first, Lucifer was startled and untrusting of you- you're a seraphim, someone that was just like him and could possibly actually take him down despite you being an actual child.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ over time, the king of hell did grow warmer to you, after all he sees a bit of himself in you. Both ex-angels, both hate heaven.... it's like you're his second little one!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Sometimes, when lucifer isnt busy with his actual child, he hangout with you- entertaining you with his magic while you return the favor with little stories and things, sometimes you even create little gifts like flowers for him.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Lucifer vows to keep you safe, even though you can easily take down hundreds of sinners and even overlords, it's paternal instincts what can i say?

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ this man totally makes you ducks- he has enough experience in making ducks so you know own a few dozen in your hotel room- how lovely!!

𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐎𝐑

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ oh this man, this radio demon. He's out for your soul, absolutely hell-driven to get it, and it's all for power (who could have guessed)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He doesnt like kids, in fact he can confirm that he absolutely HATES children though he will act all kind and lovely to you- remember though it's all an act! don't fall for it, he just wants your soul (if he gets your soul, your angelic soul? fuck- he'll be even more powerful than before, having an angel's soul would make him practically invincible!)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ This guy, funny fella really. HE CANNOT BUGGER OFF. Whenever you need help with anything he's the first to appear and offer a helping hand- and then in return as a favor back asks for a deal- is he serious? (yes. he always is)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Alastor though also, much like everyone else becomes a a bit soft for you- occasionally creating those little weird shadow creatures to play with you, since everyone around you are adults and are busy it's a way of keeping you entertained when they're busy

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He, also, understands that you are more powerful than him- and knows that if he gets on your nerves enough he'll probably become dust.

𝐍𝐈𝐅𝐓𝐘

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ at first, Nifty only had one goal: to kill you (hey don't blame her! Charlie told her to stab and she's still under that impression)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ good for you though!! coz you fly up right as she even tries to stab her dagger through your chest- Charlie and Vaggie immediately grabbing nifty to stop her from moving and killing you.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ after the whole misunderstanding, Nifty actually enjoys begin with you! you're clean, and help kill bugs (well really it's you pointing the bugs out to Nifty and her killing them)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ You're, unsurprisingly, taller than Nif so she likes to climb up on you and sit on your shoulders or stand on your back while holding onto your shoulders. She finds you the most comfortable to climb- plus she can hide in your wings and be used as a secret weapon.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she adores playing with roaches with you- while you are grossed out by it slightly, you still play to entertain Nifty (then after you sanitize your whole body about ten times)

𝐀𝐍𝐆𝐄𝐋 𝐃𝐔𝐒𝐓

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel tends to avoid you, not out of hate or spite or anything- it's just.... well he is aware of how he is and well he doesnt want to ruin you in the sense of his dirty talk and swearing.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ though occasionally he finds himself stuck looking after you, which is.... fun.... no i mean really its fun as fuck!!! Angel makes all sorts of jokes, offers you alcohol (you did almost take it if it werent for husk and practically everyone else to all collectively pry the bottle of vodka out of your hands)

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ angel dust also teaches you some very creative swear words! so now, whenever you feel like talking you run around screaming weird insults at people, Alastor has heard you shout "EAT ASS AND DIE HORSE FACE FUCK BITCH!!" a few times to random sinners

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ The... star, is actually proud of teaching you those words- hey if you wanna stay in hell you gotta act like it!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ hides you away from Val- though somehow you still find out about him, and when you learnt how he treated your spider-friend.. uhm, the studio was in smithereens and val was close to death- now permanently loosing his right arm (just his right arm for now)

𝐇𝐔𝐒𝐊

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ to you, Husk is like the weird- drunk uncle who just got out of prison. Though, he's the cool drunk uncle.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk doesnt really speak to you, which is brilliant coz you dont really speak- so the two of you communicate through looks and gestures, leaving everyone in the hotel watching you two 'talk' very confused.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ never gives you alcohol, no matter how much you ask with 'cherries on top' and if he does catch you with any intoxicating drinks he snatches them off of you- scolds you a bit then drinks the beverage himself.... hypocrite

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Husk helps you avoid Alastor, he doesnt want to see you being under his clutches, you dont deserve that you're just a kid.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ He also teaches you how to do magic tricks just incase you ever want to become a magician... and sometimes he teaches you how to play card games- or how to gamble

𝐕𝐀𝐆𝐆𝐈𝐄

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ In all honestly, Vaggie is very much threatened by you- because like, do i even need to say it?? YOU'RE A SERAPHIM !!!!!

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Buttt as long as Charlie is okay with you and you don't pull any stunts to try and sabotage the team you're alright! Just dont try anything.... please

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ she accidently treats you like a soldier sometimes- a habit from her exorcist days, speaking of you could immediately tell she was one of those angels and while you did not like her at first you grew to like her- viewing her as a second older sister

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ you and Vaggie sometimes sit and remember old times in heaven- and you'd ask about the exterminations, though quickly stopped after noting her discomfort.

⿻ㅤㅤᱺ Vaggies also likes to try and swap weapons with you- to see if she and you can handle other weapons (unsurprisingly you both adapt quite quickly)

[mydadleft471]

A Jester Indeed

Summary: You've heard tales of Messmer the Impaler from other Tarnished. They say he's a monster, that his flame will burn through your armor to the bone, and that he is not to be trifled with. So what happens when you, a not-so-serious individual, fight the Impaler and show him mercy?

Spoilers for Elden Ring and Shadow of the Erdtree. Some warnings of violence, fighting, blood, and a stupid Tarnished.

This was a request from anonymous! They requested, "Messmer with a Tarnished reader who chose to spare him at the end of their battle, and she frequently comes by to annoy him." This was so fun, thanks anon! I wasn't sure how to incorporate the Tarnished coming back to annoy him, so I just made her a little shit whenever possible lmao. Hope you like it!

As always, thank you for reading, liking, reblogging, and commenting! I've gotten back into writing because of everyone's continued love and support and I can't begin to thank you guys enough! <3

You were so in over your head.

Traveling to the Land of Shadow was an ordeal all by itself. As you carved your path of carnage throughout the Lands Between, you’d killed many. It did not matter what they were; if they didn’t want to talk it out, you knew there was only one way it would end. No matter how many times you died, which had to be in the hundreds by now, you would come back and try again. Victory had always tasted so sweet. 

As did the amount of runes some bosses dropped.

Seeking out the Lord of Blood was certainly a task, but you had also found the husk of Miquella, Malenia’s twin brother forever cursed to be a child. Disgust must’ve been obvious on your features as Mohg appeared out of a pool of blood and referred to Miquella as dearest. You had a feeling you wouldn’t mind ending the Lord of Blood.

You did mind, however, the amount of bloodflame he threw at you. His trident could kill you in one hit if you weren’t careful, and it did, many times. Eventually though, he fell just like the rest. After you lit the site of Grace near Miquella’s cocoon and sat down, you noticed someone standing a few feet in front of you. They were donned in gold and black armor with an ornately embroidered white cloak. Carefully, you rose, ready to fight if necessary.

She introduced herself as Needle Knight Leda, in service to Miquella the Kind. She told you that if you wished to travel to the Land of Shadow, all you needed to do was touch the withered arm dangling lifelessly outside of the cocoon. Noticing your hesitation to follow someone you had just met, she tells you of her compatriots that would offer you assistance when you arrived.

You were never one to shy away from challenge and adventure, so you rested your hand upon the cold, much larger one. In an instant, your vision went white and suddenly you stood in an unfamiliar place. It almost reminded you of where you first woke up after crossing the fog, but it was more foreboding. You shrugged off the feeling of anxiety and started up the hill in front of you.

After stepping out into the open and seeing the vast landscape before you, you knew you had to explore every inch of this place. You would discover why this place was hidden, and you would almost certainly fight challengers tougher than you could imagine. The thought alone sent shivers of anticipation down your spine. With Torrent by your side, you embarked on your journey throughout the Land of Shadow.

That anticipation that had once set your soul ablaze was now fear coursing through your veins. After weeks of fighting, you had reached the Shadow Keep, home of Messmer the Impaler, who was another of Queen Marika’s children. Messmer’s guards and knights were no joke, and you had met your demise at their hands more times than you could count. But you had persisted and cut your way through his numbers, and here you were: in front of an imposing and cold metal door that would certainly lead to your number of deaths reaching the thousands.

Everything you had heard about Messmer was terrifying. You were unsure if you would actually best him. Many other Tarnished you’d met along your travels spoke of his flame, scorching and unnatural, searing them down to the bone before they were impaled on Messmer’s spear.

You tried to keep your spirits high. You had fought and beat Radahn, once known as the mightiest demigod of the Shattering. You’d killed Mohg. You even killed Miquella’s sister, Malenia, the Goddess of Rot.

So why were you standing here shaking like it was your first encounter with combat?

You sighed and knew you’d have to will yourself to open the door in front of you. Throwing caution to the wind and ignoring your nerves begging you to turn back, you pushed the heavy metal door open and stood in the doorway. You flinched and closed your eyes, expecting your death to be immediate. But you were fine.

Taking a few tentative steps into the room, you realized that it was almost entirely dark. A few candles sputtered weakly along the floor, but that was it. Perhaps the Impaler was out?

Your hopeful thoughts quickly died as the room lit up. Hundreds of candles sparked to life within mere seconds. You drew your weapon and looked around the room, your heart beating wildly against your ribcage.

“Mongrel intruder.”

A low, stern voice echoed throughout the room, sending shivers down your spine. Looking towards the center of the room, you shrieked when you saw a red snake hovering in front of you. It wasn’t poised to strike however, so you, although a stupid idea, reached out to pat its head.

“Thou’rt Tarnished, it seemeth.” 

The snake began to slink away from your outstretched hand. You saw a large towering figure sat on a throne in the very back of the room.

Messmer the Impaler.

“I am, yes. Why does that matter?” Your voice shakes and comes out weak.

He stands up, seemingly ignoring you. You realize how he towers over you.

“Mother, wouldst thou truly lordship sanction in one so bereft of light?” He does not sound amused.

“I don’t want to fight you. ” You realize that might not seem convincing with your sword drawn.

“Yet… my purpose standeth unchanged.” He saunters towards you. 

You really shouldn’t be here.

“Those stripped of the Grace of Gold shall all meet death. In the embrace of Messmer’s flame.” From his hand, fire erupts and swirls, but it’s unlike anything you’ve ever seen before. It’s darker, a deep crimson with black tendrils dancing around like snakes. It’s beautiful, yet horrifying.

“But I can see sites of Grace! There’s one right outside your door!” You plead with him, your voice unnaturally high with fear. He pauses for a second, mulling over your words. Then his brow hardens and his gleaming gold eye narrows.

“The Tarnished, graceless and stricken, is also a liar, it seemeth.”

You were stupid and brave, but a liar? That crossed a line.

With his words as your only warning, he leaps into the air, creating an inferno of raging fire. He slams down next to you and you barely have time to roll out of the way. The explosion clouds your vision, and you don’t catch him hurtling towards you. His spear rams through your stomach as if you weren’t wearing armor, and you scream. Your hands grasp the handle where it impales you and it’s sticky with blood. Your blood.

Messmer comes closer as you fall to the floor. You have to admit, he’s quite handsome, even with your blurred vision. You don’t think telling him that would spare you.

“I don’t want to fight.” Your voice comes out weak and you spit out blood on the floor next to you. You’re beginning to fade.

His eye glows a blinding gold as he stands above you. He seethes with disgust.

“Then thou shalt run. Thine wishes are an impossibility. But rest assured, Tarnished,” he spits the word like an insult, and brings his face closer to yours. “The Impaler will see to it that thy fate never cometh to fruition. Thou shalt perish here, as many times as necessary.” 

With those words, you fade away and return to the site of Grace outside his door. You lay there in stunned silence for a few seconds before you dare to sit up. Looking towards the fog wall in front of you, you question yourself. Could you really defeat Messmer? He’s made his intentions crystal clear and you know that each time you face him, it will end in your painful death. 

No, you say to yourself. You take a few deep breaths and make a conscious effort to not give into the fear he instilled in you. That’s what he wants. He wants you to be afraid to face him, to give him the upper hand. But you won’t do that. Sure, he’s a demigod that’s launched an endless crusade on an entire race of people and has a curse that’s gotten him shunned from his Mother’s good graces, but you’re really good at fighting. And you’re persistent as hell.

Standing, you draw your weapon once more and walk through the fog wall.

He’s returned to his throne, and once he sees you, he grips his spear and stands.

“I warned thee, Tarnished. All thou wilt gain here is an acute understanding of agony.”

“I’m not afraid of you. I’ve faced demigods before and won. I’ve died countless times and came back. This fight won’t be any different.”

He is taken aback by your confidence, but he quickly regains his composure. His face hardens and he leaps into the air once again, flame encompassing his form.

“So be it.”

You dodge his inferno and sidestep him as he rushes at you. You have a feeling he uses his fire to disorient you and shroud himself. You would be wise to keep the distance between you two as close as possible.

“A spear is a horrible weapon for close combat!” You holler at him and see his eye narrow. You’ve successfully pissed him off.

He ignites his spear and soars through the air, then rushes at you with multiple jabs, and you successfully dodge all but one of his attacks. He slams down into the ground next to you, and right as you reach for your flask, a myriad of spears burst from the ground and quickly end you. As your vision fades, you see him above you once more, looking down at you with something you could almost call pity.

You re-enter his arena with little time between your attempts. Though he manages to best you over ten times, you are growing more certain in his attack patterns, and you can seamlessly dodge and punish most of his moves. On your 16th try, you’ve managed to only get hit twice throughout the fight so far, and you still have 9 remaining charges in your flask. You know he’s beginning to worry from the way his attacks grow more and more desperate. He stops charging deliberate moves and instead swings wildly at you in an attempt to kill you instantly.

After side-stepping his barrage and rolling through his summoned spears, you quickly deliver a swipe that cuts his stomach and sends him to his knees. You breathe out heavily and watch his every move with your sword at the ready in front of you.

“Bested, by a meek Tarnished…” His voice radiates with pain and humiliation. He looks at you, his eye dimmer than usual. 

“Give up. I don’t want to kill you.” You hope he doesn’t push you to deal a final blow.

He weakly stands up, using his spear to hold him upright. He turns away, facing a giant statue of Marika holding a baby. How did you not notice that before?

“O Mother, forgive me.” You narrow your eyes and ready yourself for whatever he’s about to throw at you.

He reaches towards his eye that shines a brilliant gold as his long claws near it. In horror, you realize he is about to tear out his eye. Throwing your sword to the ground in an act of desperation, you fling yourself forward and catch his hand. Your weight makes him shift uneasily on his feet and you find yourself staring into the same eye he was about to pluck out.

He glances between your hands around his and your worried expression. He cannot understand why you would stop him. “Let go, Tarnished. I would give thee a fight to ne’er forget.”

You shake your head, clutching onto his hand tighter and trying your best to pull his arm down. “I’m not going to let you tear out your own eye! Are you crazy?”

“Thou hast me at thy mercy. Strike me down or release me.”

“I’ve told you before; I’m not going to kill you.”

His eye narrows and he releases his spear. It thuds onto the ground and the sound reverberates throughout the entire chamber. His other hand wraps around your neck, and he lifts you like you weigh nothing. You do not release his hand as you struggle to breathe.

“Thou’rt foolish and weak. Thy grace is false, thy blade is dull, and it seems thy mind is shattered.” He squeezes harder and you notice black spots in your vision. He peers into your eyes for the Grace you claim to have, and he sees flecks of gold dancing in your irises.

Hesitantly, he loosens his grip enough for you to breathe, but not enough to allow you your freedom. As expected, you heave in heavy gulps of air and cough. He wonders what Mother sees in you, a mere Tarnished, too weak to kill him but not strong enough to delay their inevitable demise at his hand.

“Thank you…” You mutter. You’re still clutching his hand.

“Why didst thou hesitate with thy blade?”

You give a tired and sputtering laugh. “Maybe I’m tired of killing.”

“Nonsense. Reveal the truth.”

“Will you at least put me down?”

He grits his teeth and slowly releases you. He expects you to immediately pick up your weapon and strike back, but you simply reach for one of your flasks.

You notice him watching you with caution. “May I?” You gesture to your flask.

“Fine.”

Unexpectedly, you close the gap between the two of you and unscrew the cork from the bottle. You then hand it over to him without a second thought. 

He doesn’t move, too shocked by your sudden offer. This would heal him, and if he so chooses, he could kill you again with all his strength returned to him.

“I do not require that.” 

You huff and roll your eyes. “Would you please just indulge me? I think you owe me after how many times you killed me, don’t you think?”

Wordlessly, he reaches down and takes your flask. Tipping it back, the liquid warms him as it travels down his throat. He instantly feels better and the wounds you inflicted on him earlier dissipate. When he looks down again, he sees you smiling. He hands the flask back to you and you replace the cork, then store it away in a pouch on your belt.

“There, all better.”

“A duller foe I have never met.”

“And yet, here we are. So, what’s next? Are you going to talk with me, or do you feel like you need to kill me again?” You gesture at his spear still on the ground.

“Why wouldst thou grant me mercy?” His face pinches in confusion.

“Because you don’t deserve to die.” You answer.

“Dost thou consider themselves judge, jury, and executioner?”

“No, but I know enough to understand that you’ve been shunned and cast out by Queen Marika, just like me.”

A Tarnished who speaks ill of his mother? He had yet to wrap his head around that.

“Speak plainly.”

“Okay. I know your mother made you go on an endless crusade in her name against the Hornsent for whatever they did to her. She’s done the same with Godfrey in the Lands Between. The Mountaintops of the Giants, once a land covered in fire, now lay cold with bodies and snow as their only inhabitants. Now, she wants me to fight my way through her remaining children to claim their Great Runes so I can have the burden of becoming Elden Lord.”

“Mother chose-” he begins.

“She cast you out because of your curse.” You interrupt him and his eye blazes out of fury.

“How dare thee!” He bends down to pick up his spear. You hold up your hands and make no move to grab your weapon.

“I understand your pain. I’m cursed to die over and over again until I fulfill her wishes. She doesn’t care for me.” You keep your voice even.

“Thou will never understand my pain nor my curse.”

“Maybe not, but I understand how it feels to be cast out and sequestered without honor or glory.”

Why was he talking to you? He should’ve ended you the moment you gave him your flask. He should’ve killed you 20 times over by now.

But he hesitates.

“Tarnished. Thou hast granted me mercy. Thy reasoning I shall never understand. But thy words ring true and hold merit.” 

“Does that mean you’ll stop killing me?”

“It means I shall consider ceasing hostilities towards you. Thy safety is not yet guaranteed.” 

You groan. These demigods are always so complicated. “Then what do I have to do to get you to trust me?”

“Thou wilt tell me everything.”

You blink at him. “Okay. We could’ve avoided my painful demise many times over if you had just said that earlier.”

The grip on his spear tightens. “I shall make the memory a reality if thou dost not hold thy tongue.”

He’s met with silence. Perhaps you had finally learned when you were to speak. Or maybe you were just thinking of another clever quip that would make him doubt his decision to spare you.

The hilt of his spear hits the ground and he stands taller. His voice echoes around the room. “Thou wilt stay here, within the Keep, so that I may have eyes on thee at all hours of the day. Thou shalt be safe and comfortable in exchange for your knowledge.” 

“You’re going to keep me prisoner?”

“Wouldst thou prefer a grave to a bed?”

“Fair point. We have a deal.”

You hold out your hand and he stares at you in bewilderment. He narrows his eye.

“What?”

You gesture to your hand. “It’s a deal. We’re supposed to shake hands to make it official.”

“I shalt not touch one so depraved.” He looks disgusted at the mention of touching you.

“Shake my hand or get used to killing me. Your choice, my Lord.”

“Thou wouldst jest, even now? When death stands before thee?”

“Can you just shake my hand?”

“...Fine.”

He reaches out and grasps your hand loosely, and you shake his hand. His skin is surprisingly soft. Just as you are about to say something, he pulls away.

“Come. Thy quarters are just down the stairs.”

“Good. I’m exhausted.”

“As am I,” he replies.

You follow him. “But I gave you my flask. You should feel fine.”

“Thou misunderstood. I am exhausted of thy prattling tongue.” 

You scoff, which earns you a small smile from him. You are steeped in an uncomfortable silence as he leads you to your chambers. You walk down a long hallway lined with ornate paintings and trinkets. This is somewhere you had not been while you were fighting your way up to Messmer. You wonder if he knows how many of his men you had dispatched. Considering he granted you some semblance of mercy, you think he has yet to find out.

He stops at a large wooden door. Twisting the knob, the hinges creak like they haven’t been opened in a century. The room is full of dust and stagnant air, but is otherwise beautiful and luxurious.

“I shall have servants clean thy room, of course, but this is where thou shalt stay.”

“It’s pretty. I don’t think I’ve ever stayed somewhere so nice.”

“For once, thy countenance is agreeable.”

“Well, for once, you’re being nice to me.”

His eye twitches in annoyance. “Was I not nice when I spared thee of another woeful death?”

“Seeing as I stopped you from plucking out your own eye, we’ll call it even.”

He felt like he was dealing with a petulant child whenever you opened your mouth to speak. Even threatening you with your demise just spurred you on.

“I shalt leave thee to thy quarters before my headache worsens.”

As he walks away, you call out to him. “Just admit that you haven’t had anyone so entertaining and interesting in your Keep, it’s okay!”

“Yes, my Keep hath never held a jester such as thee.” He replies over his shoulder, not caring if you heard him.

Smiling to yourself, you think that, yes, he does need a jester.

He’s much more handsome when he smiles.

[multi-fandom-imagine]

➤Happy Mother's Day.

↳ Husk || Alastor || Lucifer Morningstar || Adam

•Husk•

"Ah! Shit" gritting his teeth, Husk felt Marylin sink her teeth into one of his ears as Coltrane and Harry watched their father grip the tray of food for you, the man nearly dropping it. "Marylin careful!"

Hearing her father, Marylin snuggled into his fur as he then nodded to his two son's. "Alright, come on you two. Let's go surprise mommy."

Ear's poking up, Henry and Coltrane jumped onto his shoulders. Satisfied, he gripped the tray full of food he cooked for you. Making his way to the bedroom then kicking the door open. The triplet's flew towards you, little chirps leaving their chests as they snuggled into you.

"Happy mother's day beautiful." Husk placed the tray down as he gave your head a kiss.

Biting back a yawn you smiled letting your children snuggle into you. "You didn't have to do this Husk."

Scoffing, Husk sat on the edge of the bed as he rolled his shoulders."nonsense...this day is about you beautiful. Now just tell me what you want and it's granted."

"I just want to spend a day with you all." You smiled taking a bite of the food.

Leaning in, Husk gave you a grin. "Granted."

•Alastor•

"Today is mother's day! So that means it is about your mother girls! Which means we are going to take care of a the little nasty's that hurt and bother your mother." Alastor smiled down at the twins as the little girls smiled up at their father.

"Yes papa!" "Yes papa!"

"Perfect!" Alastor straightened his form as he patted his daughter's head. "Good girls."

Mary and Kathryn rush away from their father know just the person to bother, the very asshole that has been harassing you from the start.

Following after his girls, Alastor wanted to make sure the girls didn't maim the bastard too much. This day was about you after all.

"How was your sleep darlin?" Alastor pulled out a chair to the table for you.

Smiling you gave Alastor a grateful smile. "It was amazing, I really needed it."

"Happy mother's day mama!" The twins rushing over to you. The little girls giving you a hug as they nuzzle their faces into your neck.

•Lucifer Morningstar•

"All most done annnd perfect!" Lucifer stuck out his tongue setting up the decorations for you. He wanted everything to be perfect when you arrived back home with Edna and Charlie.

He wanted this day to be perfect, it has to be perfect since you were the one that gave him a second chance, you gave him Edna, you gave him Damian.

Turning to face his son, the King of hell placed his hands on his hips beaming. "What do ya think."

Squealing, the baby clapped his hands together just happy to be with his father.

Hearing the door open, along with the voices of his girls. The man scooped up his son quickly making his way towards you. "Happy mother's day! How was the girls night out!"

Smiling, you turned to face Lucifer. Edna rushing to her father. "We had lots of fun daddy! But sissy Charlie is taking us out again...but baby brother are coming."

Blinking, Lucifer turned his attention to Charlie in confusion. "What?!"

Shrugging her shoulders, Charlie took her brother from his arms. "I figured you and mom could use the break."

Not getting a chance to reply, Lucifer watched Charlie leave with Edna and Damian. Shaking his head, he wrapped his arms around your waist tugging you in close. "Happy mother's day beautiful."

Retuning the smile, you nuzzled your face into his chest. "Thank you Lucifer."

•Adam•

You should have been expecting this, the man has been doing something like this ever since Celeste was born.

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY WAY!" Adam shouted at anyone that stepped foot near you. Little Celeste marching in front of her tossing flower petals.

"Ya outta our way! It's mama's special day!" Celeste yelled at anyone that would dare to step a foot near you.

Dropping your shoulders, you gave everyone a weak smile mouthing sorry every now and then. While the two may go over the top each year you were grateful each year.

Adam turning to face you, mask off. Lifting up his little girl into his arms he then tugged you close as he nuzzled his cheek against your own. "Happy mother's day to the sexiest woman in heaven." His voice dipping as he gave you a knowing grin.

"I got somethin planed for us." His voice dipped.

[theyanderespecialist]

Yandere Alastor X Pregnant Reader (Headcanons) Alastor's Baby Mama (Hazbin Hotel)

[Hello, My Sexy Muffins! I am back with another update! This one is with Alastor being yandere for his pregnant listener, and headcanons he would be like in this situation, anyways I hope you all enjoy this chapter here, all my sexy muffins!]

(Disclaimer: Alastor is Not Yandere In Canon, this is just for fun and not to be taken seriously at all! Simping for fictional characters and yanderes is fine, just do not be illegal or gross about it. YOU KNOW WHO YOU ARE YOU FLAKY BISCUITS! Yanderes are not ideal partners to have in real life! Also, remember to separate fiction from reality and headcanon from canon, thank you!!!)

-Yandere Headcanons With Alastor X Pregnant Listener from Hazbin Hotel-

.Alastor would not be the best dad, in canon Viv has said he would not be against smacking around his kids (REMEMBER HE WAS IN HIS 30s IN THE 1930s HE IS BEYOND BOOMER) 

.He would of course raise his child that was defenseless and needed him. 

.But if his child who is able to "take care" of himself were to get hurt he would find it a bit funny (like in America funniest home videos) 

.Of course, that is when the kids are kids, but what about his pregnant wife? 

.Alastor is Asexual and in hell and thought he could not have kids. 

.Somehow in one of the times he made love to you his partner you had got pregnant. 

.He was a bit in shock, his microphone putting out radio static and him going "Say what now?" 

.How did it happen, why did it happen? 

.Of course, he is yandere for you and would very much want to take it to the next step with you. 

.So if you are not married to him at this point he will propose as he is doing the right thing and will make an honest woman out out of you. 

.Also with his old-time mind set he would say. "I am not going to let my child be a bastard." (Born out of Wedlock) 

.He is not giving you a choice, you are going to be his wife and bound to him, so yeah, good luck with that, lmao. 

.He becomes even more protective of you, realizing that now that you are pregnant you have a target on your back from all his enemies. 

.So he would steal you away and keep you by his side, If you want to leave the hotel, then you will have to be with him and maybe even husk. 

.If not you will be in the hotel and Husk and Niffty will be keeping a close eye on you. 

.He would even reel Charlie and Vaggie into this and use them to keep you safe and sound as well. 

.You are a prisoner to your husband and he is keeping you in this gilded cage. 

.He would of course give you everything you want and need. Except for your freedom of course. 

.Why would you need freedom when you have him, and your future children? 

.He is 1000 percent the type of man who wants his wife at home, pregnant and barefoot in the kitchen. 

.He at first did not want kids but seeing you pregnant has flipped something in him. 

.It mainly has to do with his narcissistic traits, as he will see this child as an extension of himself and their accomplishments will be his as well. 

.So that is nice, but also his yandere side likes seeing you swell with his seed. 

.That pregnant belly, widening hips, and full breasts are signs that you are with HIS Child, that HIS seed has done something to you. 

.This makes him excited in more ways than one because it is a way he can control and manipulate you, and keep you by his side. 

.But it also puts him in la mood because it shows him that you are his and his alone! 

.That you being full with his child is proof you belong to him the radio demon. 

.He would still deal with rivals by killing them and broadcasting their screams across hell. 

.He would be fiercely overprotective possessive and jealous. 

.NO ONE ELSE CAN touch the belly bump, that is HIS Belly bump. 

.He also sleeps with you in his arms a lot now, if you somehow get out of them to get a glass of water and he wakes up without you there. 

.He will appear behind you, snatch you, and teleport through shadows back to the room, place you back in bed where you belong. 

.No midnight snacking for you, unless you ask him first. 

.He is very attentive to all your needs when pregnant and also is a bit more in the mood sex. 

(as asexual can be aroused and horny and have a high libido and CHOOSE To have sex, Asexuality is about Lack of Sexual Attraction NOT The Lack of the Act of Sex itself) 

.So when you get to the want to have sex stage of the pregnancy he is more than willing to satisfy your needs. 

.You have unlocked a beastly side of Alastor good luck. 

.Oh and 1 million percent he would feed you venison and other demon meats while pregnant. 

.He wants to make sure you have a very healthy cannibal diet for you and his spawn. 

.He takes care of you at least, but he does need to be taught more modern ways on raising a child FR FR. 

[YASSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSSS another chapter is done! I hope you all enjoyed this and stay sexy all of my sexy muffins!] 

[after-witch]

Run Rabbit [Sukuna x Reader]

Title: Run Rabbit [Sukuna x Reader]

Synopsis: You were the first one in your village chosen to be a sacrifice to Ryomen Sukuna. But you won't accept your fate so willingly.

Word count: 2000ish

notes: obsessiveness, reader is set to be a sacrifice, non-graphic injuries, non-graphic sexual assault threat, 

There are two types of desperation beating inside your breast

The desperation to live, to not be torn to pieces by some beast, to keep going another day and walk down the path of life, wherever it may take you.

And perhaps the worst of the two, the desperation of knowledge: the fact that you can’t deny that you understand why they’re doing this to you, why you’ve been tied to the tree at the entrance of your village. 

Why they have chosen you as a sacrifice to Ryomen Sukuna.

He had slaughtered so many people already, in your village and many more besides. Men, women, children. It made no difference to him--no, you think, perhaps it did. From what tales you’ve heard, he seemed to enjoy killing women and children most of all. 

Your own parents had been killed by him while they were traveling to a nearby village to visit your mother’s pregnant friend. Perhaps that’s why the village chose you as the easiest sacrifice--you had no family left to stand up for you.

You were just some orphaned daughter. You couldn’t carry on the family name. You would be a burden, if you were married off, and who wanted to take the time to create a match for you amidst the current heavy fear enveloping the village? 

So they took you in the early hours of the morning, when the air was misty and cool, and dragged you from your bed to this very tree that leads to the main path to your village. The tree itself was considered sacred. Or it had been, once. Scattered around you are broken charms, no doubt laughingly scattered by Sukuna himself; failed protections against his horrors. 

But you? You were going to be the village’s salvation. Surely he would accept their offering and kill you (perhaps more, beforehand) and spare the village. At least for a while. At least until they had to drag some other pretty thing to the tree, and hope he would take them and spare their village for another day. 

That’s what they hoped for, anyway. 

But you? You were not going to be a good sacrifice. That is why you have spent the better part of the day sawing at the rope binding your wrists to the tree, using one of the broken charms as a sharp edge. 

And as the sun begins to slip beneath the horizon, and the warmth in the air seeps away and leaves a clammy cold in its wake, you feel the rope finally fray to a fragile husk--

Just as every insect in the night suddenly ceases their droning calls, and the night birds in the weaving lakes no longer cry out. 

Just as the sound of footsteps approaching the tree replaces them.

You have never seen the demon, curse, monster Sukuna in person before. You had only heard the stories, at first huddled together with your family, and then alone. 

He is, above all things, overwhelming. Eyes upon eyes, arms upon arms.Two of each, and faces like halves.  He is… 

Inhuman. Unnatural. 

Without realizing it, you are frozen--a doe in the flickering lamplight of a weary traveler. No, for this is no weary traveler who smiles indulgently at the sight of a frightened deer. You are more like a doe trapped in the unmistakable sight of a hunter’s bow.

“Well,” the monster says, his voice like a rough purr that sends goosebumps creeping up arms. “This is a first… surprisingly.” His eyes look you over, and the sight of the multiple pairs moving sends your empty stomach lurching. “Usually villages try to sacrifice their weakest first. The children… the elderly.” 

The way his gaze rakes over your form sends your limbs trembling, and you begin to rub your wrists together, willing the rope to give way to nothing in time for you to have some sort of chance. 

If he notices, he says nothing. Instead, he steps closer and looks down at you. “But oh, you’re a precious thing, I would think. A lovely woman.” He calls you precious but nothing in his tone or demeanor suggests he thinks you so. 

“Shall I kill you outright? Or have my way with you first?” There’s a laughter in his words, and you’re not sure if he means them, but they create a hard knot in your belly all the same. 

It doesn’t matter. Because the rope has split.

“Neither,” you spit out, and you don’t wait for his reaction--you simply run.

The primal part of your brain expects to hear his footsteps behind you. Instead, you hear laughter, barking, harsh--but delighted. 

“I’ll give you a head start, girl!” He calls out. You don’t dare look behind you to see if he’ll hold true to his words. 

--

The forest is familiar and unfamiliar all at once, for you never went into it during the night, and certainly never alone--and definitely not with a demon at your heels.

Dark greenery whizzes by, punctuated with scratching branches and your own terrified, panting breaths. Some of the branches catch the fold of your robe and you stumble, pulling until the fabric tears or the branch lets you go. 

A branch catches your clothing again, but when the fabric tears this time,  you don’t regain your footing. You fall to the ground and your body aches, unused to running and injuries--

And then you hear those footsteps again. Loud. Confident. As if whatever creature makes them knows he is entitled to be exactly where he is, doing exactly what he does. You don’t doubt a demon who has slaughtered countless, seemingly for sport, might feel that way.

Hot tears fall down your face, dripping on the ground, almost in time with the footsteps.

“Are you done already? How boring.”  His voice above you (for you don’t dare look up at his face) has lost the delight it held earlier, replaced with something you keenly sense is far more dangerous: a loss of interest.

He’ll kill you. If you don't run now, he’ll kill you.

Some noise, grunting and animal-like, escapes your lips. And then you’ve propelled yourself upward, riding on adrenaline, running into the darkness again.

Behind you, Sukuna laughs.

“Keep going! Don’t give up!”

The mockery in his voice lands and slides off you like raindrops. You don’t have the resources to care about anything but getting away from him.

So you run and run and run.

--

Your fingers taste of sweat and dirt, but you keep them pressed to your lips, muffling your ragged breathing as best you can. 

Sukuna is somewhere behind you. His every movement rustles leaves, snaps twigs. He doesn’t need to hide his presence--why would he? He could kill anyone or anything he came across.

If he finds you tucked inside the hollow of this tree, he’ll kill you. Maybe worse than that, because you can; or because he feels an inclination for it.

“Brat.”

Your muscles turn to ice. He found you. He found you and this is it and now--

But pain does not come, death does not come. Instead,  you realize, slowly, that he wasn’t addressing you. He’s talking to himself.

“She’s made it this far, huh? If she crosses that stream…” He sighs, and your mind provides the image of his face, pinched with irritation. “I can’t follow. It’s been blessed. Damn sorcerers.” 

Hope, fragile but alive, flutters in  your breast. The charms on the tree didn’t work… but evidently something did work against this creature. And you were close--so close you could hear the water bubbling--to reaching it.

And like a miracle, his footsteps recede, and the soft sound of the night returns. The insects, hesitantly chirping; the soft crunch of a fox scurrying out of a burrow.

After a time, long enough to make sure he has truly gone, you slowly, carefully crawl away from the hollow of the tree. 

The stream. If you can make it across the stream, you’ll be safe.

With your muscles aching and your feet bleeding from the terrain of the forest, you run towards the sound of quietly bubbling water that will be your only chance of salvation.

--

You have never appreciated the moonlight as much as you have on this night. The moon is not quite full, but it’s large and bright enough to illuminate the man made rock path lodged across the stream, giving easier (but no less slippery) access to those who want to cross it.

Just get across, you think. Just get across and be safe. Be free. Start over. Find somewhere you can live and settle down and--

You take a deep breath and force yourself not to race too far ahead. You don’t want to get distracted, not now. 

Not when every footsteps matters. You go as slow as the panic in your breast allows, keeping your arms straight out like you used to as a child, begging your parents to help guide you across. 

On the last stone, you hear him approach. Hear the rumble of his chest as he hums. Feel the oppressiveness of his presence.

But you leap to the wet, mossy ground on the bank of the stream and you turn and your heart beats fast with fear and relief in turn. You made it. You’re safe. 

Your face breaks into a sobbing smile just as Ryomen Sukuna takes an easy, sauntering step onto the stepping stone. 

His laughter hurts your ears.

“Did you really think I couldn’t cross water?” His four eyes blink down at you, and it’s like your soul wants to drop to the ground and run away. “Country bumpkin…”

The smile cracks, but the sob on  your lips pushes its way out as you whirl around and run.

But your body has other ideas. It’s too tired. You were not used to such physical strain, and the stress from being tied to the tree and chased and chased--and chased--like some animal has finally overruled the adrenaline pumping through your body.

Your legs collapse, and you fall to the ground. You’re on your knees, aching and bleeding though they are, and you gulp down terrified, sobbing breaths.

This is it. This is when he kills you. You can only hope it will be fast. 

“Finally run out of steam, girl?” Sukuna hums, and you feel his foot press down on the small of your back. It doesn’t take any effort for your body to crumple beneath it, but he keeps his foot on the dirty, frayed fabric of your robe.

There’s an uncomfortable flush of humiliation, but you chide yourself for even feeling it. Does it matte, what he does, if he’s just going to kill you now?

“You lasted longer than I thought you would. Though you were stupid to think I was serious about the river.” His voice is low and lazy. You almost wish he sounded angry, annoyed that he’d had to chase you through the woods.

But then  you realize that this chase which has worn your body to its limit was like a relaxing stroll for him. 

You were running for your life--and it was nothing to him.

“Just…” Your voice is hoarse, and you would drag yourself to the stream and gulp it down like a wild animal, if you could. What is water, though, when you’re going to die at any moment? “Just kill me already,”  you finish.

There is a rustling sound, and you don’t know what it means until you’re flipped harshly on your back. You cry out as you’re flipped, body aching, and hurting even more when you feel rocks digging into your tired muscles.

It was better to be staring at the ground, you think. Better to look at that than up at the face of the monster who will end your life. 

He tilts his head at you--the two faces, you think, are not just grotesque but otherworldly and very, very wrong. They shouldn’t exist, and he shouldn’t exist, and you hope that somewhere, somehow, some day, there will be a person who knows how to destroy the thing above you. 

He hums again. And after a while, he grins, as if he’s pleased with himself. “No, I don’t think I will, girl.”

His words take a while to sink in. And the question forms on your lips before you have time to wonder if you really want the answer. 

“Why--why not?”��

Sukuna leans down and grips you by the ruined fabric of your robe. He hauls you to your aching feet, and keeps his grip on you even as your legs try to buckle  underneath you from fear just as much as the physical strain of the night. 

One of his four hands grabs your chin, and none-too-gently forces you to look at him. His pairs of eyes study you, and your stomach twists and turns as you’re made to stare into his face. 

“You were given to me,” he says, voice back to that low, growling purr from when he first saw you tonight. “And I’m going to appreciate this little present.” 

[scoutswritingcorner]

Hi, I've just discovered your page, and I love all your stories, Especially the Alastor x Readers. So, I was just wondering if you could do an Alastor x Fem Reader, like how would he react to his doe announcing being pregnant/ How would he be as a dad? Also the same for Lucifer? if it's not too much?

Family Man

Alastor x GN!Reader, Lucifer x GN! Reader

A/N: Hihi! Thank you so much for requesting friend! I made this more into a headcanon/fic thing! Thank you for your kind words, friend!

TW:Pregnancy, anxiety that comes with that topic, Alastor being Alastor

Alastor:

-🦌 First off when you told him, he was silent for a very very long time. I’m talking full on deer in headlights moment, he stayed like that for an hour. Your poor husband was confused and his brain had to reboot.

-🦌 Once he gets out of his funk, he’s going to ask you if your okay with that and if having a family is what you want. Don’t get me wrong, he’s excited but he’s also extremely nervous. He never thought of himself as a family man.

-🦌 It’s not that he hates kids or children in general he just never saw the interest in them. Little tiny humans running around just didn’t appeal to him, he also didn’t have time when he was alive. Ya know between killing and running his radio show.

-🦌 But once he makes sure it’s what you wanted? He’s going all out, I’m talking about getting everything from a bigger room in the hotel to little baby clothes (he acts like he’s uninterested but by Lucifer you catch his eyes lingering a little too long with a certain softness). 

-🦌 Won’t let you lift a finger at all (not like he didn’t before). 100% more overprotective than anything. You want to go out on a walk? He’s with you immediately, arm wrapped around your waist. He can’t go with you? His shadows are following you. 

Alastor was in the middle of a conversation disagreement with Husk before his focus was pulled away seeing you put on your coat, “Darling, where are you off to on this fine Hellish afternoon?” He asked, appearing behind you with his arm wrapped around your waist as he bent down to gently kiss your cheek. “Going on walk,” You hummed as he sent a gaze down towards your growing belly. “Perfect!~ Maybe if you're up for it we can stop by Cannibal Town to speak with Rosie~” He hummed, forgetting all about the conversation from before his focus mainly on you.

-🦌 Speaking of Rosie, once she knows about your pregnancy she’d be over the moon and makes it her mission to watch over you if Alastor has “business” murder to attend to as well as makes herself an Auntie. You didn’t mind at all.

-🦌 Once you go into labor? He is right beside you wiping your forehead and allowing you to squeeze his hand as much as you want. As well as making death threats to whoever was helping you deliver the baby whether that be a doctor or someone from the Hotel. He has very creative ways of explaining how he would skin someone from head to toe.  If you weren’t in so much pain (and delirious from the medication) you would’ve told him to chill.

-🦌 Now once the baby is in your arms and he’s calmed down significantly, he’s going to be pampering you and his child. He doesn’t care for what the gender of his child is, he just wants you and his child to be happy.

-🦌 Now, this might go without saying but Alastor is a Mama’s boy through and through so if he does end up having a daughter there is a chance he might name her after his mother in someway. If it’s a boy, he’ll allow you to have full reign on the naming process while giving his input as well.

-🦌 Now, I see Alastor as a laid back but strict parent. He’ll allow his kid(s) to have full reign and learn what hurts them or not. But will step in if they are truly in danger or about to get seriously hurt. Will give out amazing advice when needed. But most likely will stay back. 

-🦌 No matter the gender of his kid(s), they will sit with him in his radio tower as he shows them what does what. He does this mostly when they are babies or toddlers when they get older he actually teaches them on what does what and how to successfully run a radio show. You have caught him doing this multiple times and he has yet to apologize cause they need to know how important radio is.

You were making your way up to your husband’s tower as you had a sneaking suspicion that he had once again taken your child up there. As you entered through the hatch you watched the display of your husband holding the sleeping toddler in his arms as he rocked back and forth. “These dials right here help you change the frequency and volume of your show..” he softly whispered out his ears, flickering noting your sudden appearance. You walked over as quietly as you could watching as the small tail on your toddler wagged in their sleep. You didn’t dare disrupt him now as he had a way of getting them to bed easily.

-🦌 Overall, he would be great in some aspects. Once again very laid back but still very much present and active in everything involving both you and your child together. He has some flaws in his parenting but honestly who doesn’t. 7/10 in my books. 

-🦌 Oh also- Dad jokes all day, every day. He once again will not apologize, good luck.

Lucifer:

-🍎 Oh boy our favorite short King in the house. He’s done this rodeo for Charlie all those years ago, he knows what to do.

-🍎 But once you tell him in the form of rubber duckies (idk that seems so cute to me) he looks up at you confused before he starts bawling. Don’t worry it’s because he is super excited and he’s an emotional guy, please give him hugs and kisses.

-🍎 Once he is done crying, he picks you up and spins you around before the anxiety sets in. Do you want to be a parent? What if he isn’t a good father? What he fucks up again?

-🍎 Please reassure him and give him more kisses, tell him you do want to be a parent with him and he’ll be a great father and if he fucks up, you’ll be there 100% of the way to help him back on the right track. He appreciates you so much.

-🍎 He is super nervous to tell Charlie cause what if she doesn’t approve? What if she gets upset? She doesn’t, Charlie is super super excited to have another sibling and when she hears the news she cries much like her father. So now you have your husband and stepdaughter sobbing in each other’s arms.

-🍎 Charlie convinces you both to do a baby shower/gender reveal party at the hotel. Vaggie makes sure to keep the troublemakers Angel and Alastor at bay. Lucifer the whole time is making sure you're alright and comfortable while also crying at the tiny baby booties.

You smiled at your husband who was walking back with a glass of water for you, “Are you okay? Do you need anything else, Darling?” He whispered out sitting next to you, making you smile and shake your head. “I’m fine, Luci..go enjoy the baby shower Charlie set up for us..” You whispered out watching as he pouted at the thought of leaving you his very pregnant spouse.

-🍎 Idk why but my brain just wants Lucifer to have twins so bam- he’s gonna have twins now. Poor man had to let his brain reset for a hot minute cause now he’s gonna have double the babies. He will cry so please hug him close again.

-🍎 Oh boy oh boy when you go into labor? He is the best person to go to, he’ll let you scream and curse at him while he comforts you and gives you little kisses between praises. Wiping the sweat and tears from your face while allowing you to squeeze his hand.

-🍎 When he holds the twins? He cries most definitely and promises to do everything he can to make his babies happy.

-🍎 Another man who doesn’t care what the gender of his babies are, if they are healthy and happy he is happy. The possibilities here for names are endless. The babies most definitely get his blonde hair and rosy red cheeks.

-🍎 Now having twins gives him the opportunity to be like, “Not only do I have one cute baby, I have TWO” and proceeds to turn around to show the other baby happily sleeping in a baby sling. You always laugh cause why is your husband so cute?

-🍎 You both need a break or want to go out on a date and can’t get a babysitter? Not to worry Big Sis Charlie is to the rescue with Vaggie and the rest of the crew!

“Are you sure Charlie? We can find someone else if you're too busy.” You asked, feeling horrible but Charlie happily waved off your concern, “Nonsense! I’d love nothing more than to look after my siblings as you and dad go take some well needed rest!” She hummed, glancing over at Vaggie who was happily holding one of the sleeping twins and Lucifer glaring at Alastor who was watching from afar. “Okay, if you're sure..If you need anything don’t hesitate to ask.” You replied watching as your other baby happily chomped on your husband’s finger with the amount of confidence only babies seem to have.

-🍎 Overall, Lucifer’s parenting style is great! He’s a little anxious but who isn’t when dealing with babies, he’ll mess up sure but once again lead him in the right direction and he’ll be fine. I’d give him a 9/10 here. Minus one point because of the dad jokes mixing with the duck jokes (but that’s what we love about him no? It’s mostly the dad jokes.)

[doe-eyed-fool]

Hi, I just discovered your page and am enjoying the Alastor and Lucifer fics, I was wondering if you could do an Alastor x Reader Wedding edition from Proposal/ Ceremony/Honeymoon? and also a tidbit of their marriage/Parenthood? Same for Lucifer? if it's not too much?

Married Life

Alastor x Reader | Lucifer x Reader

Thank you! I'm glad you like my fics, it makes me very happy! Enjoy~

Alastor

Proposal-

Alastor never thought he'd love someone like he does you. All his life he's gone without the need for romance. He's never had any interest in such things. But then you came along, and turned everything upside down.

You made him feel things he never thought he could. Of course these things take time, and even longer for Alastor. He had to make sure he was serious about this. He had to make sure you were serious about this. He would not give his heart to just anyone. You had to earn it and his trust.

And earned it you did. Yes he never thought he'd find love in all his years living and in death. Even more so, he never thought he'd ever do something like this. But here he was, on one knee, asking for your hand in marriage. Of course you said yes, and he couldn't have been happier.

Ceremony-

The wedding would most likely take place in Cannibal Town. Rosie would have been a huge help in arranging the ceremony. After all, Alastor was a good friend, and she'd do anything for him and his soon to be bride/groom. She would even be the one to wed you both.

Husk believe it or not, was Alastor's best man while Mimzy was your maid of honor. (and you know she injured a few girls to catch that bouquet)

Alastor couldn't ignore the sudden quickening pace of his heart as you walked down the isle. His smile was genuine, and his chest fluttered with excitement as you approached. (if he wasn't hiding his tail everyone would have seen it wagging)

Alastor silently dared anyone to speak up when the whole "object now or forever hold your peace" part came up. And best believe that crowd was silent.

When you both were offically married, Alastor held you close as he kissed you softly. The kiss may have lasted a bit too long, but again, no one dared to speak up and ruin this moment.

Honeymoon-

Alastor would have planned a trip to the Wrath Ring (let's forget sinners can't travel through the rings), where you'd stay in a lovely cabin in the woods. It sorta reminded Alastor of home, being in the woods. It was peaceful considering the area. Nice and secluded too, you wouldn't be disturbed.

And if someone tried, well, Alastor would quickly see that taken care of...

There was a large meadow within the woods behind the cabin. The two of you could stay there for hours, just listening to the sounds of nature all around. It was a much needed break from the city life back in the Pride Ring.

Alastor was a wonderful cook and impressed you every day with a delicious meal. He'd even teach you how to cook certain dishes that his mother taught him. (she would have been so proud of him)

The two of you didn't want it to end, but alas, it was nearing time for you to return. Not to worry, there would be plenty more trips like this planned for you two newlyweds.

Parenthood-

This was a huge step for Alastor. He's never disliked children by any means, but having his own...

Nothing really scared Alastor (that we know of), but this was... something that kept him "on edge". Of course, there would need to be a very long and thought out discussion about having children. Alastor would also need some time to really think about it. He was thankful you would allow him that time, no matter how long it took.

Eventually, he would come to a decision. If you two have children of your own, he'd still be nervous. But once he see his newborn in your arms, something stirs deep within him. He just stared at it for a while, then he worked up the courage to actually hold them. And that was what did it.

There was that genuine smile again, that same thump in his chest again. Pride was a good word for it, but love was better. Alastor was sure right then, he didn't need to be worried anymore, or ever again.

If you two adopt, he will love the child all the same. He'd teach them how to cook, how to play piano, and absolutely how to defend themselves. Alastor couldn't have been more proud when his child picked up a few skills he taught them.

Alastor's children would be just as deadly as him eventually, but he would always look out for them and protect them from whatever threatens to harm them.

Lucifer

Proposal-

This man has never been more nervous in his life. He wanted this so bad, and he'd be damned if he lets his fear get in the way. You weren't Lilith, you wouldn't leave him like she did. If he thought you would, he wouldn't be working up the nerve to propose to you.

Lucifer would do everything romantic he could think to do for this proposal. It would happen at his home, private you know? A nice dinner he made himself. Romantic music. Soft lighting. Rose petals scattered here and there. He even dressed himself in his best suit for the occasion.

Lucifer was practically shaking when you showed up. He got some relief when you admired how everything was set up. He would wait for just the right moment before asking the big question.

He was absolutely over the moon when you said yes, he even cried a little....a lot. He cried a lot, sobbing practically. He was just so damn happy you wanted to marry him.

Now all he had to do was plan the perfect wedding...

Ceremony-

When Lucifer told Charlie that you and him were getting married, she was just as emotional as he was. She insisted you two got married in the hotel. Of course you agreed. So sure, why not?

Charlie and Lucifer would be working double time to make sure everything was perfect. And of course everyone else helped out too. When Charlie had a free moment, she and Vaggie would take you dress/suit shopping. Angel insisted he come along too, cause you're not going to go shopping for such an event without him. He knew how to dress to impress after all.

Charlie would be Lucifer's best woman, because there is no way in literal hell is he going to ask Alastor. While Angel would be your maid of honor. And of course Fat Nuggets would be the ring bearer, as per Angel's request. No arguments there.

If you thought Lucifer was emotional during the proposal, you should see him as you make your way down the isle. He was so excited that he couldn't even get mad that Alastor was the one walking you down. All he could see in this moment was you.

Once you reach him, you take his hands and you could see the love in his eyes. Husk would be the one to wed you both, even his grumpy self was smiling as he pronounced you both married. Lucifer wasted no time as he dipped you and kissed you so very passionately. He almost forgot there were people watching, so he eased up a bit. For now...

Charlie couldn't have been more happy for her dad. She gave him a warm hug before watching you two join hands and walk the isle. Soon you two would be off on your honeymoon.

Honeymoon-

Your honeymoon would be spend in the Sloth Ring. (again, let's just forget sinners can't travel through the rings lol) It was one of the more relaxing places in Hell, and that's what your honeymoon would be about. Relaxation. And of course it would be spent to the very last second filled with love and affection.

Lucifer would have rented a beautiful air bnb home, right on the lakeside. It was perfect for spending time on the deck and watching the pentagram sun set.

Lucifer would have also planned all sorts of fun things to do on the honeymoon. Some activities for couples, but mostly just having fun doing whatever.

Ya'll just know Lucifer would be an excellent cook. Every night he would make a delicious meal for the two of you. He'd let you help out too if you wanted. You might even learn something new.

The last night spent there would be the most romantic night of all. The two of you stayed in and slow danced to an old song you both loved. You don't know how long you stayed in each other's arms, but you didn't care. Neither of you wanted it to ever end.

And it never would, now that you two would spend the rest of eternity together.

Parenthood-

This next step would be big for the both of you. Lucifer was worried about being a parent again, after what happened with him and Charlie. He didn't want to mess up again and ruin the relationship he would have with his next son/daughter.

He was grateful you were there to ease his worries. He wanted so badly to make up for his past mistakes. He was already trying his best to be a better father for Charlie, he would be sure to do the same for his next kid.

If you gave birth to his baby, there would be a new swell of pride within him. You and him created such a beautiful thing together. And he would love this baby unconditionally and protect you and them with his very life.

If you two adopt, he would be just as happy. He had the chance to give this child a better life than they had. He'd love them and care for them, and would always keep them safe.

Charlie would be excited to be a big sister, which made Lucifer happier than anything. He loved his kids so much. He loved you so much. In the end, Lucifer would never let anything happen to his family.

[rainylana]

“Ride me, baby.”

Eddie Munson x female reader

summary: you have sex with eddie by the pond.

warnings: outdoor sex, language, short but sweet and smutty:)

There was something about it being risky that made you both horny motherfuckers. The thrill and excitement of it all that brought so much more pleasurable for the both of you. Eddie peaked his head out the trailer door, scanning the trailer park lot for any by-passers, with you giggling behind him like a little kid. “Let’s go, let’s go!”

Eddie grabbed your hand and led you outside, closing the door quietly to not wake his uncle on the couch. “You’re gonna wake everybody!” His curls bounced as he trotted down the steps of his home.

You both giggled as you ran around his trailer, trying to contain your contagious laughter, your bare feet getting slightly damp from the night dew that had frosted. “It’s cold!” You whined. “Are you sure you want to do this!”

“It was your idea!” Eddie exclaimed, leading you through the woods. “And you, should have worn shoes.”

You laughed like a madman, grabbing his arm with broth hands to keep up with him. You winced when you stepped on a sharp twig. “How much further?” You asked.

He pushed a branch out of his way and stepped to the side so he could pull you forward. “We’re here. Not too far when you take the shortcut.”

You sighed happily, stomping your feet on the soft grass rather than the mess of the forest floor. “It’s cute!” You beamed at the small pond, a children’s play set over to your left. “Wayne come fishin’ here?”

“Yeah, him and Hopper.” He brought you to the edge, your reflections glimmering in the water. “It’s pretty, isn’t it? Peaceful.”

You hummed, bending down to run your hand in the cold water. “Is there big fishies in there?”

He smirked at your term and shrugged. “I don’t know, baby, I’d assume so. Wayne’s not that good at it, if you ask me.”

“I wanna learn.” You out your foot in the water, gritting your teeth at the coldness.

“I’m sure he’d be happy to teach you.” He wrapped an arm around your waist. “Come er’.” He pulled you into his arms, cupping your cheek to give you a full, deep kiss that made your tummy flutter.

You moaned into him, pushing off his jacket as it fell to grassy floor of the Earth. “You gonna fuck me out here?” You pushed your body against him.

He reached around to grope your ass, grinding his body against yours. He put his arms around you and lowered you gently to the ground, towering over you. “Fuck, I love that sweet little dress.”

You wore a yellow sundress, too short for the imagination was what Eddie liked to say about it, but he had no problem with you wearing it for him and only him. “Ride me, baby.” He husked, flipping onto his back to lay against the ground, unbuckling his belt.

You pulled down your panties and threw them half hazardously to the side, pushing his hands away so you could free his hardening cock. “Someones happy to see me.” You grinned ear to ear, bending down to take him in your mouth.

“Ah,” He gasped, looking down to watch you swallow his cock. “F-fuck,”

“Not yet, baby,” You let him go, lifting your hits. “I’ve gotta get me some too, now.” You smiled as your pussy stretched around his cock, your hands lifting your dress to get it out of the way.

“Jesus,” He looked up at the stars as you placed your hands on his chest, moving your hips slowly back and forth.

You moaned happily, the cool air drifting in your hair and soft against your skin. The grass under your knees, the sounds of crickets and night owls, the water behind you. It all seamed out of a movie.

You rode him quicker, your hands holding you steady and in place. You bit your lip hard, seductively, letting out little whimpers that made him twitch inside of you. “Such a dirty girl,” He trembled, becoming undone for you. “Riding me out here where anyone could see.”

You leaned down to kiss him firmly, shutting him up as you moved your hips back and forth like ocean currents. Your tongues tangled together, swiping over teeth and gums as you bounced on him. You moaned into each other’s mouth like animals.

You squealed when he tossed you around and put you on your back, throwing your legs over his hips as he thrusted into you hard. You cried out from the sharpness of his cock pushing inside of you, making you clamp your mouth shut. He grabbed your hands and placed them above your head. “Uh, uh, I wanna hear those sweet sweet noises, baby girl.”

He thrusted into you animalisticly, making your eyes blur with tears as you looked up to the stars. “Shit,” Your voice was full and shaky, your tits practically spilling from your chest as they bounced up and down.

His pelvis rubbed against your clit and sent you over the edge, biting his shoulder as you cried out. You felt him shoot his load inside of you, the tremble of his legs making him collapse atop of you. You both panted, your breath coming out in puffs of clouds.

“Shit,” He gasped into your neck, trying to hold himself. “Sorry babe- did you cum? I couldn’t last,”

You giggled, slapping his shoulder. “I always cum, Eddie. Now, get the fuck off me.”

[shootinwebs]

alastor: (probably drunk because probably would never say this shit sober)

alastor: anyway, congrats again on being married!

husk: ...angel and i got hitched four fucking years ago... you were there... you played us a song...

alastor: yes, well! the next step is to fill this horrible place with your hellion children. should be rather quick and easy. you both have the parts, after all! lucky you! why not go upstairs now and hop to it?

angel: oh my god he wants us to go make a baby literally

husk: no he just wants us to leave the bar so he can steal all the absinthe to go cry and black out in his tower again

[sciencebecameouraddiction]

You walked down the street and sighed. The hotel had been a bit too much today, with Alastor and Lucifer going at each other’s throats and the lovey gazes Angel and Husk shot each other, and the new residents that were coming in, there wasn’t much more you could take today. So you slipped out and proceeded to take a walk. Looking up at the red sky you smiled, part of you thinking that the sky was much prettier than the sky you were used to when you were alive.

Being someone who died more recently than the other occupants at the hotel, you could still remember the blue sky and the sun that would caress your skin each time you stepped outside during the day. You stopped abruptly and turned on your foot and started to head back to the hotel, almost instinctively not wanting to be too far from the hotel.

After you first found the hotel, you became a sort of assistant to Alastor and Charlie and you cursed the sense of responsibility you felt due to this. The guilt for even leaving the hotel just now was a bit too much, but the walk had done you good. You walk into the hotel, expecting anything but what you see.

Alastor was in his half-demon form, not truly taking up the whole lobby, but at this point, he might as well have. Charlie telling - more screaming at Alastor - to calm down. Somehow, Alastor had gotten Lucifer in his grasp and was about to eat him. You blinked hearing the King of Hell telling Alastor to put him down, with promises that he would be quiet. Alastor just laughed and continued to lower Lucifer to his mouth, everyone partially petrified not thinking Alastor would go this far.

You sigh and walk up to the scene and clear your throat. Alastor and Lucifer both looking at you but your eyes were on Alastor. You could feel the displeasure on your own face and felt the start of a stress migraine. You spoke, not raising your voice whatsoever.

“Why are you trying to eat Lucifer?” You asked Alastor, who slow blinked at you.

“I don’t know! I was just making some adjustments to the interiors and fixing a curtain-“ Lucifer’s voice was cut off when Alastor squeezed him a bit harder. You sighed and closed your eyes for a minute, really reconsidering all the choices that led you here to deal with two children.

“Now, you both are how many years old?” You ask. Alastor starts to answer and you cut him off, not even caring if he were to kill you now. “Too old. Let me tell you that. Too fucking old to be acting like CHILDREN.” You scream the last part. “So, put Lucifer down, Alastor, de-Hulk yourself, and agree to disagree on the decor. This is Lucifer’s hotel Alastor, originally, and Charlie is in charge.” You turn to Charlie who is staring at you wide-eyed.

“Charlie, do you like the decor that your father has created here the yellows and reds with the apples and the-“ Your cut off by a radio scratch.

“TaCKy CirCUs DEcOr?” Alastor says cutting you off.

“Those would not have been my choice of words, but the question still stands, Charlie?” You ask gently.

“No, no, no” She starts, shaking her head, you watch as her eyes widen and she stops. “I mean yes, I love the decor, no, I don’t hate it or think it’s tacky circus decor. It reminds me of my home… but I want everyone to feel comfortable here!” She explains.

“So, then maybe you both can collaborate on decor?” You say looking at them, Alastor still gripping Lucifer tightly. “Maybe taking the golds and reds of the decor you like Lucifer and then intertwining the forest feeling of the decor Alastor likes, giving it a cottage core, Moroccan vibe?” You ask.

“A what now?” Is the only question from Alastor as he peers at you. You assume this means you aren’t dying just yet. 

“Cottage core is more forest themed and the Moroccan would incorporate the reds and the golds that I’ve been basing all the designs off of, and with the gold that’s been used all we’d need to do-“ You start to interrupt Lucifer as you see Alastor’s eyes narrowing at his head as he keeps talking.

“All that would need to really be added is more textures, textiles, and some more incorporations of color.” You finish. Alastor regards you for a moment, looks at Charlie, and then drops Lucifer. You sigh in relief as Alastor magically shrinks back down to his regular form.

“I’d rather not work on anything with him, so long as there isn’t any more of this decor for clowns, it will be fine.” He grinds out and you raise your eyebrows at him.

“As our gracious hotelier, we must have you involved in this Alastor, and since Lucifer has such a knack for design and creating things out of thin air, why I think this is a project for all three of us.” You say, a sarcastic tone in your voice, taking a few steps away and heading to your office. “Come now, we need to get a general theme down so Lucifer can start creating.” You stare at both of them expectantly.

“I don’t think you are in any position to be giving orders,” Alastor says and you shrug, realizing this might be the closest to death you may get with the Radio Demon.

“While I may not be above either of you, I am on assignment for the Princess. Is that not right Charlie?” I look at Charlie, pleading with my eyes to follow along. She perks up and rushes toward me.

“Yup! Y/N is here to help! I gave her this task like so long ago!” She says as you stare at her, thinking she couldn’t be more obvious.

“Well, now, you don’t want to disappoint her do you?” You ask Lucifer. “And I truly think that Lucifer may just one up you on design, Al.” Lucifer bristles at that and walks over to you. Alastor blinks and narrows his eyes at you as you use a nickname to refer to him.

“I can do more than one-up him,” Lucifer says fixing his hat.

“Can’t one-up what was lackluster to begin with.” Alastor retorts back.

“C’mon, let’s get the interior of the hotel sorted…” You say walking off with Charlie yelling ‘thank you’ behind us. You shake your head as you pull up your laptop at your desk and start getting to work on the mood board for the hotel. All the while, the bickering between Alastor and Lucifer is the background noise. You smile as you pull up a few images. Being in hell wasn’t all that great all the time, but you couldn’t lie saying you weren’t fond of it.

authors note: it’s been a while since i’ve published ANYTHING… so please be kind.

[shootingstarwritings]

Body a Day #6: Mirror

Milo was the successful CEO of an established tech company. Blessed with three beautiful children, he lived life with no care in the world. It was only when he, deep into his 50’s yet still looking and feeling virile, went to the doctor’s that he discovered that he was going to die.

“It’s terminal,” said the doctor, offering his deepest condolences as he broke the news. He continued on, giving him an explanation regarding the illness, but Milo wasn't listening. His mind was still racing. He only responded when the doctor asked, “Would you like us to contact your family members?”

“No thank you, doctor. I have… a procedure for this. Family tradition, to be exact,” said Milo as he stared off into the distance. He thanked the staff and made his way home, glancing at himself in every passing reflection he could.

Arriving home in his penthouse suite, Milo sat down on his couch with a drink in hand. He stared out into the city skyline on a perfect sunset. On a normal day, he wouldn’t have given it a second glance. Now, all he could do was stare, transfixed by the transient sight, lost in his thoughts.

Which of my sons should I leave my inheritance to?

Milo was a father of three, but the youngest child, a girl by the name of Melanie, was not an option. That left two options: Matthew—who preferred Matt—and Mortimer—who didn’t like to be called Mort.

“Matthew’s a strong candidate, but Mort has his own little charms,” Milo muttered to himself, hoping that the crackling of the fire on his TV screen would help his concentration. He swirled a wine glass filled with a sugary grape juice as he hummed to himself. He wasn’t thinking particularly hard, but he figured that this was what all great thinkers usually looked like before getting hit by an epiphany, so there was merit to copying them in his current dilemma.

And yet, Milo found himself far too indecisive. After going through an entire jug of grape juice, he wandered over to his bathroom and began to monologue to his attractive face in the mirror. “Oh, my dying self,” he began, thinking back to his past as a theater actor. What should happen to my darling company and all my struggles? Will they vanish to the wind, nothing but hollow husks as they erode into dust?” He continued for quite a while before leaning into the mirror and giving it a quick kiss. “Oh, only you could understand someone like me…”

It had only been a few years since the entity was reborn as Milo. It wasn’t difficult to take over the rich CEO, but if he had known that Milo’s body would expire so quickly, he would’ve taken over one of the rotten kids earlier. Mel was still in college, but Matthew and Mort were already in high positions in the companies that Milo owned. They were set for life. However, Milo’s indecisiveness often held him back from just making a choice and doing it. Hell, taking over Milo was a choice that took about a week between him and his business partner, Niles.

Both were attractive, but after seeing Milo lounging around the steps on the company, the entity made its choice.

While the (relatively) brief period of time as Milo was great, part of that was thanks to all the cumshots Niles had pumped into his aged yet virile ass, now that it was coming to an end, Milo found himself in despair.

That was when the epiphany finally struck. Milo ran towards his room and gathered the necessary materials for the ritual. It only took about an hour to arrange everything properly. The candles were lit, the blood (hidden beneath a secret compartment in the freezer) was used and evaporated properly, and soon a burst of magic echoed into the night. Milo’s magic always looked like purple mist that smelled faintly of lavender.

“So, my other self,” Milo said, grinning at his own reflection. “Which one of my children do you wish to give your inheritance to?”

“Mmm…” said the other Milo, although it was ridiculous for them to be referred to as the ‘other.’ They weren’t two halves of a whole, but two congruent images of a soul. It was Milo and Milo. Any differences were quirks in the spellcraft and little more. “It’s amazing how we’ve ended up twice as indecisive with two of us. So instead, how about we flip a coin?”

Fate was a harsh mistress, but when looking at it from the perspective of ‘one Milo per son,’ then there was no reason for either of them to complain.

Matthew sounded excited when Milo dialed him up on the phone. “I’ll be right over there, my dear father,” he said with a honeyed yet forced voice. He was kind, considerate, and prideful to a fault; he was always so sure that his kind demeanor and charisma would give him a golden ticket through life, ignoring just how much of his father’s fortune and influence allowed him to fly through life.

There was a bit of guilt for Milo, as he had genuinely grown attached to these children that weren’t his, but he didn’t want to die. He had never died while possessing a host, and he didn’t want to risk the consequences of doing so. The worst thought was being trapped inside the dead host, unable to escape the prison of flesh as it slowly rotted away… turning into dust like that of Ozymondias’ kingdom.

Ash to ash… dust to dust… Those words always made a shudder creep down his spine. It was nerve-wracking. Horrifying. No, Milo needed to do this. They needed to do this. “Relax, myself,” his reflection assured him, smiling despite the anxiety in his eyes. “You u are no loonger alone. If one of us were to perish, the other would save him. Remember that, okay?” he said with a wink.

Milo nodded and waited for Matthew to arrive. When he did, Milo wasted no time guiding him towards his room, where a special mirror was awaiting him. As Matthew walked inside, he asked, “Why in your room, dad?” He looked around and took a quick whiff. “Hmm… it’s a nice smell. Is that… orange…?” Amazingly, Matthew wandered the room on his own, looking around various trinkets and decorations that Milo had gathered even since taking on his most recent host. “You’ve got quite the odd collection, dad. It’s… uh… huh…?” It was inevitable, but he walked right in front of the mirror.

“Must be a strange sight, huh?” said Milo, leaning against the door frame and shooting out an email from his phone. A bright light flooded the room, which made him glad that he wasn’t looking directly at it. He could hear a panicked scream from the eldest son, but Milo just shrugged and continued to look away. He knew that Matthew saw his father’s reflection instead of his own, and then saw the same image burst out of the mirror and flood his younger and more virile body.

“Quick, to the mirror!” Milo’s other half, now Matthew, cried out. For whatever reason—perhaps a fundamental law of the universe—Milo could feel his essence beginning to vanish. Was it because he was lacking a reflection? Most likely. But Milo didn’t have much time to think. He uttered a quick incantion and then jumped through the glass as though it was a pool of water. Immediately, the sensation of his very molecules being pulled apart as though being ravaged by some invisible, fearsome beast. “Phew, that was close,” said Matthew as he looked down at the panting, sweaty mess that was Milo.

“Sh-Shut up…”

“Hey, you’re alive, right?” grinned Matthew. “All right, I’m gonna give Mort a call and get him to come by. In the meantime, sit tight and get ready, ok?”

Milo sat up and looked around. Anything that was beyond what the mirror reflected was just a gray, foggy void. Essentially, he was trapped in that small pocket of a reflection until someone else looked into the enchanted mirror. “Not like I have much of a choice,” he said, looking down to see a phone with all the numbers and symbols mirrored, making it difficult to read. It also lacked any reception, which made enough sense to piss Milo off. “Just don’t take too long. Hey! Pay attention!” he shouted as the new Matthew began to strip and check out his new, stolen goods.

It took far too long to get Matthew back in control. Maybe I really should’ve recommended for him to get tested for ADHD. I had my suspicions when I took over his father for the first time, thought Milo, reflection on the oldest son’s behavior once more. But eventually Matthew dialed up Mort’s number, who picked up with his usual greeting. “Don’t call me Mort,” he said just before Matthew eagerly greeted him with a “Heya, Mort!”

The two went back and forth, and Milo, despite being in what was essentially a reality away, could still make out most of what Mort said due to all the exasperated yelling. Matthew went wildly off-script, but all it took was a mention that he was over at Milo’s place talking business for Mort to suddenly cry out, “I’m on my way! Hold up.”

Milo and Matthew shared amused smirks and awaited the middle son’s arrival. They didn’t have to wait long. Mort arrived just 20 minutes later, panting and sweay from most likely running up the stairs—forgoing the building’s elevator. “Where’s dad?!” he cried, pushing past his brother and stomping around the apartment. Matthew gestured towards Milo’s open room door, and Mort rushed inside. “Father, I have my reservations regarding—the fuck…? W-Woah, AHHH!”

~o~

Months after Milo’s funeral, Melanie found herself enjoying a family dinner for the first time in what felt like decades. The siblings had gone out for dinner and not a single fight occurred the entire meal! Melanie could feel her blood pressure lowering the more she found herself engaged pleasant talk with her siblings. They smiled, joked, and showed that they were listening to her stories. Not longer did they roll their eyes, check their phones, or just not even bother paying attention to her and instead bring up complicated business deals and numbers to each other, pointedly ignoring her.

After the meal, the three returned to Matt’s home and played a few cards game. Melanie found herself on a bit of a lucky streak by the end of night, managing to get to 21 during the last few rounds of Blackjack.

“It’s been frankly amazing!” she said to her siblings as they walked her to her husband’s car. “I can’t remember the last time we had so much fun. I…” she paused and choked back a sob. Matt pulled her in for a side-hug while Mort told her that the two of them promised each other that they’d get along better.

“Dad wouldn’t have wanted us to keep on fighting,” he told her, smiling with eyes twinging with regret. “Just wish he could see us getting along better.”

Melanie reached out and gripped Mort’s hand. “Something tells me that he can. And I’m sure he’s proudly looking down on us. Thanks for everything, you two. Good night.” With those parting words, Melanie joined her husband. She didn’t notice the knowing look Matt and Mort gave each other.

“Well my dear brother,” began Matt as he looked through his closet. After the funeral, Matt made sure to take all of his old clothes from his days as Milo. No reason to let such fashionable fabrics go to waster, after all. “Glad we made our dear sister smile again. I think tonight was a Mission Accomplished. Oooh, I think this one fits the new me,” he said as he put on a floral-patterned Hawaiian shirt, unbuttoned of course, and a pair of cargo shorts. He showed them off to Mort, making sure to flex to show off his core muscles. “I think the try-hard, sweat-lord life is behind me now that my dad has passed on and left so much money and influence to me. It’s time to just relax and cruise on by.”

Mort chuckled as he stripped off most of his shoes, content with just a pair of briefs that snugly hugged his crotch. “Of course, dear brother… my other half…” he said, lying back and letting out a relaxed sigh. “These bodies of ours were so exhausted when we got to them. They deserve a vacation, don’t they?”

Matt climbed on the bed and lied on top of Mort’s, who let out a moan. “That they do, Mort. So let’s give it to them.” They pulled each other close and kissed. Their hands went wild as they explored each other’s body for what could’ve easily been the 20th time, their lustful expressions identical. For once, Matt and Mort were equals in the other’s eyes; they became mirrored halves that made the other whole.

[cantgetworsethanthistbh]

hmm expanding on this a bit rn cuz the scene is soo in my mind rn and i just wanna play it out sm dhbdudhdh

~~

There was a flash. Blinding white light where everyone was floating in less than a second and longer than eternity. Nothing existed. Nothing exists.

Stan is face planted on the ground now, and the place is a wreck. Things are scrambled in his head, with white noise practically on his tongue and even without his hearing aid on the fritz, sound is nothing but a thin line ring. It takes him a moment to register there's dirt in his mouth, and on his face. That he's the one face planted onto the dirt. Dipper's talking, and he pushes himself up to look. The portal's still on. Even though the rest of the husk is pretty much destroyed with sparks flying from every wire , the portal is still on. It worked. It worked!

Even better— a dark shadow that looks like it's walking away from the glowing light is approaching. Exiting the portal, no, entering their world again. Stan doesn't need to see their face to know who it is, his chest swelling inside at the billions of emotions running through his mind. He can't hope, but he does. He knows who it is. He knows it's true.

The figure walks out, stepping onto the dirt ground with a strong presence.

Ford!

"Brother," Stan gasps, and there's dirt in his eyes making it sting. Stan stands up, the reunion speech on his tongue finally coming to use when Ford stops, right infront of the entrance. He's looking back, not even paying attention to Stan, his whole arm still stuck in the entrance. Stan stops from approaching, looking confused while Ford is seemingly tugging at something from behind the portal, speaking loudly but Stan can't hear it.

"Ford?"

Ford twists, then jumps right back into the portal. Stan's heart drops, then he panics, running to the portal again.

"No no no! Stanford!" He can't stop running, the distance between him and his brother too wide again. He can't lose him again! Not after everything he did! He prepares to hop into the bright white hole too until he feels tiny bodies land on his back, pushing him off his feet and face first into the ground again. He cranes his head up, eyes glued on the portal, heart running miles while the children pin him with their weight. Dread makes his blood go cold when the portal flicks like a faulty lightbulb.

"Kids! Let me go, please!"

"Grunkle Stan, calm down!"

"You can't go in there—"

"I don't care!" He has no time for this! He almost throws them off his back when he feels a heavier weight join them, then hold him up by the arms, apologies from Soos filling the air for sure but Stan can't hear any of it.

He's stuck. The light flickers again. No. No! "Kids, please!" Stan kicks and tries to punch and struggles, his veins about to burst. They're yelling at him but he just can't hear. He's watching in horror when the light blinks rapidly again, no sign of Stanford coming back. Fuck. FUCK.

It can't be like this. It just can't! Thirty years of his life, and a whole nother decade of pain, for nothing? Nothing? How could Ford jump back in? What the hell could be on the other side that's more important than his home, his planet, his brother? Stan had so many plans— he had everything he wanted to say.

He's sorry for pushing him in. He missed Ford like his dying breath relied on it. He's sorry for the project. He wants to hold Ford and kiss him until it is his dying breath. And Ford would thank him— thank him for doing everything he could to bring him back despite it all. He loves him too, never stopped just like Stan. Ford would've done the same for him.

The portal blinks, turns white to gray. Getting dimmer and transparent by the second. No!

No.

No...

Stan grits his teeth, ready for his whole life to mean absolutely fucking nothing while his family holds him back from following the love of his life one more time, for fucking good. He's sobbing maybe, not like Stan can reallh tell where all the salt in his mouth came from with the blurry vision he gets.

This is it.

Then the portal spits out a— two dark clad bodies then shuts down completely, nothing but a regular hole in its triangle body. Stan doesn't give a shit. He gives out the biggest heave of relief in his entire life.

After the whole business with the CIA, with Dipper, Mabel and Soos, with fucking everything over the last four decades, his old heart just can't take anymore of this. But it's okay.

Should be.

Ford, the bigger one, and Stan doesn't have to see his face behind the scarf and goggles to know it's him, has his arms around the smaller one, who's swinging his limbs around wildly like Stan had just a moment ago and dressed the same as his twin. He's smaller only in comparison to his brother— it's a very pretty heavy guy with soft looking parts, strong looking other parts and a tall height but looks like got room for more.

He's screaming, and Stan can hear he's right with his guess— it's a teenager. With a rough voice, almost gravelly. Stan can recognizs a kid who's been smoking at the back of the school too much and permanently fucked his voice up. Stan pauses, realization slapping him just now.

There are other humans in that hell hole?! As young as teenagers?!

"Let me go!"

"No, would you just—"

"I almost had him!"

"You could have been killed!" Stanford growls, and the guy swings at him with his fist. Stan almost jumps up, the instinct to protect Ford at the forefront of his mind with who the hell is this and who they think they are??? with the need to defend his brother, with Soos' grip losening as him and the kids turn their attention on the arguing pair.

Ford catches his fists tho, to Stan's surprise, and twists the guy's arm around to force them back onto his own sides. Ford catches the guy's large built into his own, holding him in some restraining bear hug and pulling them flush together.

Stan feels a spike in his throat watching Ford's new, strong arms wrap over the guy's chest and waist, seeing them way too damn close for a defensive move. The guy must have something in his throat too, and Stan can almost feel that guy's blush under the goggles and scarf.

The fuck...?

"I am not about to let you die."

"Sixer, I swear to God—"

"Hi, excuse me," Mabel chimes in with sugar in her voice and all the men turn to her (while Stan flicks between her and the pair infront of them). She smiles politely, then says "WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON HERE?!"

The guy looks at her, then at Dipper, and Soos, before finally landing his gaze on Stan. Then he shrieks, scrambling out of Ford's hold to hide behind him like some kind of wuss.

"AH— Sixer?! What the fuck is this?!"

"Hey, no swearing infront of the kids," Stan gruffs, finally pulling himself from Soos' hold, even though he agrees with the guy's sentiment because what the fuck is this indeed.

The guy's panicking, clutching to Ford's back like Stan is a god damn nightmare on legs. Yeesh. Clingy much?

"What the, why does he look like you? Is this another you again?"

"No, I don't think any version of me would be this foolish," Ford sighs out, and okay, Ouch. Ford pulls his goggles and scarf down, a scowl on his face— directed right at Stan. Marching from the guy's hold, Stan barely sees a six fingered fist draw up and—

"Ow! What the heck, Ford?!" Stan says, now rubbing at the pain blooming on his cheek.

Ford answers with balling his fist in Stan's shirt and tugging him close. His ears are pink, and oh boy it's not the kind of pink Stan thought would happen. Ford is glaring at him, downright seething that Stan could feel heat from his skin.

"You idiot," He stresses, long spear going straight through Stan's chest. "This was a very, very risky move, opening the portal like that. What on Earth were you thinking?"

Well isn't this just fantastic. "I was thinking of getting my brother back, you huge jerk."

"You could have destroyed the universe!"

"Destroyed-schmoid," Stan waves his hand flippantly, and boy did that piss Ford off more. Well, Stan's pretty fucking pissed too. Where's the love? Where's his bear hug that Ford's throwing around like candy?

"How about a thank you for saving you from that sci-fi, sideburn dimension, huh?" Stan says, hoping the jab at his brother's hair would mask the hurt in his chest. Ford lets go, looking at him up and down.

"Thank you? You really expect me to thank you after what you did thirty years ago? Are you out of your mind, Stanley?!"

"After what I did?! Why you ungrateful—!"

"Stanley?" The kid pipes up again, quietly but everyone heard it judging by how everyone turns and looks at him. Stan feels his eyes drawn to him, with the gears turning in his head as he asks again who the hell is this and who do they think they are. Puzzle slots fitting into gaps and grooves the picture so clear, but with one missing piece at the center. Almost there. On the tip of Stan's tongue, almost there.

The kid reaches for his goggles and scarf, pulling them off to reveal a mess of dark shlrt curls, then a large nose with soft cheeks, strong jaw and a face dotted with pimples. His dark brown eyes have that little gleam in his eyes, one their Ma always told Stan he had and that's how she could still tell them apart even when he and Ford aould swap clothes and hide their hands in their pockets to pretend to be each other.

He never believed what she said was true— Ford's eyes were a whole other beauty of their own— but for a second he sees it, right in the confused stare of the teenager.

It's like looking back in their bathroom mirror back in Jersey. Except real, flesh and blood staring back at him, and it's clear to him more than ever who that is. Who Ford is approaching again and holding with a protective arm over the shoulder of a brother— and even more.

Dipper croaks. "What the..."

"Dude..." Soos follows. And really, out of all of them, Stan's never been prouder than he is of Mabel, saying what everyone is thinking once more.

"Let me repeat: WHAT THE HECK IS GOING ON?!"

[multi-fandom-imagine]

Hi 👋

If you're still taking requests for fluffy dad scenarios, could I get one for Husks with his kits?

Maybe one his kits says their first word and their first word is Dada or Papa, and Husk gets emotional and reader is there to comfort him. I'm here for the fluff 😊

A/n: This is so cute , it 100% would be his little girl🥺 and it would happen because I keep thinking back on this.

Vivziepop mentioned that Husk's love- heart motif was in part a reference to the fact he is something of a softy on the inside, and "kinda sweet" deep down.

• Vivziepop stated that Husk is a cuddler and "a very fluffy, cuddly animal", but, that it's not something that just anyone gets to see, and that ultimately the only person who would get to experience that about him would be a significant other.

Shifting his body further in his couch, Marilyn snuggled deep into his chest as his two son's played on the ground. Husk never thought he's have this life, to be this lucky. After he died and got sent to hell he thought it would be over until he met you and now he had three little children he loved more than anything.

Fighting back his own yawn, Marilyn let out a small yawn. Her eyes slowly opening, tail twitching as she moved closer to Husk.

"Papa."

Eyes snapping open, Husk nearly slipped out of the chair he was in. Her tiny little claws digging deep into his chest. "What did you just say?"

Letting out another yawn, Marilyn's ears flattened on her head as her tiny little wings fluttered. "P...papa."

Husk could feel tears prick the corner of his eyes as he plucked Marilyn off his chest. Bringing her close, he let out a laugh. "Did ya hear that?" He whispered to you. "She called me Papa." His tail twitching, he couldn't stop smiling.

Grinning you stepped towards Husk, your two son's clinging to your back. Reaching out you brushed his tears away, Marilyn letting out small chirps as she nuzzled into Husk's neck.

"See, I told you that her first words would be about you."

Husk let out a soft laugh, his gaze softens. He owes so much to you. "I'm happy this was something I didn't bet on it..." Letting his daughter cling to him he stepped close to you, his tail wrapping around your waist. "Thank you."