#sins of the father au

[cuppajj]

ive been thinking about ur "sins of the father" type au with capscaicin and burning spice... it occupies my mind

i bet burning spice would be super disappointed in his kid. "you're my child and ur not even doing anything worthwhile???"

mind idk much of cappy's lore i haven't actually read his story or anything... to me he's just a silly little guy who has to deal with the burden that he is indeed at least in part a beast. like. imagine how that shatters his mind for a little while...

I feel like… Burning Spice would be disappointed in a way where he knows Capsaicin has more in him than he’s trying to make it look.

He’s not weak, he’s cowardly. And cowardice is not what he was baked to have. Is this what he developed from meddling with the ilk of lower, easily destroyable cookies? Have his two “friends” been softening him beyond recognition? How unacceptable. He knows the strength his son once chained himself because of in the strength he wants to see in him, and now… no, perhaps he needs help. Perhaps he needs a little reminder that destruction must never be feared, but worshipped.

[arcuuda]

Evil twink at your demonic services 😸

Sonamaxxing 🔛🔝

[porchtart]

look at this ⬇️⬇️⬇️

[ultravioletqueen]

The character:

Her (fuckass) polycule:

☝️this one(the white haired dude)belongs to saffiro in YouTube/instagram/Twitter

FUCKASS POLYCULE THINGIE

Multishippers! Choose a character, then put them in a polycule with ALL of your ships for them. That means popular ships, rarepairs, DUMBASS SHITPOST CRACK SHIPS (emphasis on this one), and also throw in the canon pairing(s) as well.

Bonus points if you draw them all together as a polycule! (I didn't because I'm lazy and have other priorities;;)

Here's one of mine!

Character:

Her (fuckass) polycule:

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Eighteen♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Eighteen Warnings: profanity Visit the first tag on this post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Eighteen]

a/n: holy shit 2k words long? This is worth two whole chapters yall ig that’s how yk shits about to go down

Your feet hit the ground, the darkness of the alleyway shrouding with you with the shadows as you retracted your wings into your back, making them disappear. Peeking your head round the corner, you tentatively stepped out.

You prayed you wouldn’t be too noticeable- surely you couldn’t draw too much attention if you just acted natural. Weaving through the people on the streets, you made your way through the town.

You’d seen it from overhead, strangely one of the only places that seemed more welcoming than the rest of the areas in Hell. Your wings had been aching after spending so long flying that you’d given in and let yourself down.

You tried to not make eye contact with anyone, but accidentally glanced at a couple of people’s faces, noticing the strange lack of eyes, instead pairs of black holes replacing them in people’s faces. Gulping, you kept your gaze glued back to the ground. 

You saw your silhouette flash in the corner of your vision through a shop window, and involuntarily froze, stepping closer to the grass. You looked different.

More demonic.

You tried to swallow the lump growing in your throat as you took in your new appearance, bile rising in your throat before quickly turning away and briskly moving on. 

“Ow!” 

You stumbled back, unable to stop a small curse escaping your lips. A woman stared at you, her knuckles turned white at clutching her umbrella as she tipped her hat back to get a proper look at you, empty black eyes roving up and down your body.

So much for not drawing any attention.

Gulping again, and you tried to squeak out a small “Sorry!” Before trying to hurry around her, but she stopped you, a hand on your arm pulling you back. 

“Are you alright, dear?” She asked, face soft with concern. You blinked. “Your face’s all cut up.”

“Is it? Oh.” You laughed nervously. “I didn’t notice. I-I’ll be fine.” You tried to pull away but her grip tightened. You looked up at her in panic.

“I’ve seen you somewhere,” she said, and now her face had turned serious. You laughed even harder this time, the sound hysterically tumbling from you as you tried to reel the situation back under your control.

“I doubt you have, miss,” you assured her quickly, before turning away, right into someone else’s chest.

You looked up, and all you saw was red.

“Now, I’m sure I have.” She shuffled over to both you and the tall red man. You caught two small antlers poking out from his hair, and stifled a chuckle. “I’m Rosie, and this is Alastor.” She gestured over to the deer. He extended a hand, static crackling in his voice.

“Pleasure to be meeting you, dear,” he grinned. You stared at the hand, before taking it gingerly. 

“And you…” her eyes fixed onto you. “You’re the fallen angel.” 

You opened your mouth but no sound came out. Alastor’s red eyes narrowed onto you. You felt them burning, and looked away as you let out a small, tense chuckle. “Guilty.”

Rosie laughed, slapping a hand onto Alastor’s shoulder. “Oh sweetheart, don’t worry.” Her lips stretched into an even wider smile. 

“We won’t eat you,” Alastor smirked.

“Although you do look delicious.” 

You didn’t know whether to be thankful or not. “Oh. Thank you.”

Alastor’s hand found your arm, nails digging into your skin as he drew you close, linking arms. “But we would like it if you could…”

“Join us for tea!” Rosie cut in. They both shared a meaningful glance.

You looked at the sky, heart thrumming insistently. “It’s getting quite dark.”

“Perfect,” Alastor replied, voice dripping with something sinister as he and Rosie led you through the streets to outside a small café. Rosie’s hands closed around your shoulders.

“We can get you something nice to wear on the way,” she said, glancing pointedly at your torn clothes.

“Lovely,” you muttered. They both smiled.

-

“So. Tell us everything.”

Rosie and Alastor both smiled at you expectantly over the table. You stared at the steaming cups before you, then them, then back at the cups. 

“Look, I…I appreciate this.” You gestured to the table, the tea, your fresh clothes. “Whatever this even is. But I need to leave.”

Alastor once again put his hand on your arm. You stared down at it. “I suggest otherwise, dear,” he said, smile strained and sharp as his eyes flickered with embers. You slowly lowered yourself back into the chair, gulping.

“Tell us. Why exactly are you in Hell?” He knitted his fingers together, face inquisitive. Rosie took a sip of the tea.

“I’d rather not disclose that information,” you said coldly. Rosie laughed.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart, but I think you would.” She smiled sweetly.

You scowled, gripping a tighter hold on your cup. 

“Don’t frown now, honey. You know you’re never…”

“Fully dressed without a smile,” Alastor finished. He leaned closer. “Why are you in Hell?”

You didn’t say anything.

Rosie’s face softened. “Come now, honey. You know we only want to help you.” She placed her hand over yours, and it was soft, warm. Her face held sincerity. “We just want to know what happened to you.”

You sneaked a suspicious look at Alastor, one that didn’t go unnoticed.

“I apologise if I may have come off as…” he waved his hand. “Strong. Off putting.” He sighed. “Believe me, darling, if we had wanted to hurt you or take you by force we would have.” He shot you a meaningful glance. “Most sinners wouldn’t be as forgiving.”

You gulped, a powerful wave of fatigue suddenly crashing over you as the events of the past few days finally caught up to you.

“You can trust us, sweetie,” Rosie said softly.

You dragged your hands across your face. “I…Heaven kicked me out…”

“We can tell,” Alastor remarked. “Why?”

“I got in a relationship with a…” you waved your hand around vaguely. “A resident of this place.”

“Who?”

You chewed your lip, their soft words coaxing out tired and broken answers. “Lucifer.”

The both fell into shocked silence, and exchanged another glance. But you ploughed on, determined to finish now that you had started. “They found out, cause someone-“ Your throat closed up “-tipped them off, and kicked me out.” You rose, spreading your palms across the table. “I need to find Lucifer and Charlie. Lucifer-“ you choked up. “He’ll help me. I know he will.”

“Is your name [name], by any chance?” Rosie raised an eyebrow. You looked at her and Alastor.

“Yes.” Your eyes narrowed.

“Charlie mentioned you,” Alastor explained. He quickly looked at Rosie, and flicked his head in one subtle movement. Rosie’s brows shot up, but she walked away, leaving you and Alastor standing in the flickering lights of the café window. 

“You know Charlie?” You asked, eyes brightening with hope, but your question was ignored.

“I’m afraid I have something to tell you, dear,” he chuckled, adjusting his monocle as he stood up and drew you in by the shoulder. He flicked his cane, gesturing to the darkening streets. “Shall we go for a stroll?”

You stared at him. “Sure.”

You both started off down the street, his arm still firm around your shoulder. “So, Lucifer and Charlie, is it?”

You nodded wordlessly.

“And you think they’ll help you?”

Your stomach twisted with dread, but your chest clenched with determination. “I don’t think, I know.”

He looked at you with pity. It made your shoulders tremble. “I wouldn’t be too sure, darling.”

“What do you mean.” You clenched your hands into fists, fighting to keep your voice even as he broke away to face you.

“I mean, my dear, that they won’t.”

You laughed, but it was forced. “And explain that to me.”

He leaned on his cane nonchalantly, and a burst of anger flared up in your gut. “Charlie… she was the one who tipped off Heaven.” He inspected his nails closely.

“No she wasn’t,” you pointed out sharply. “It was Lute- the general-“ you winced. “-the new leader of the exorcist army.”

“Really? And you think the word of one single person could convince Heaven?” He stepped closer. “What evidence exactly did Lute provide?”

You stared at him. “A bracelet.”

He laughed mockingly. “A bracelet.” Your face burned with embarrassment. “Tell me, my dear, exactly how a bracelet could provide suitable, concrete evidence?”

You thought hard, but couldn’t come up with anything. “It was a special bracelet. It could have raised suspicions-“

“But they would need someone to confirm them.”

As much as you hated this, everything he was saying made sense. And you couldn’t come up with anything to counter his argument. “You’re just a stranger. Why should I listen to you?”

“Whether you listen to me or not is up to you.” His cheshire grin glinted in the dark night. “But perhaps you should simply hear me.”

You chewed your lip. “Go on, then.” You flicked your hand at him.

“As for Lucifer… when you landed here, in Hell, it was on the news, yes?”

You nodded, dread making you feel lightheaded. 

“Lucifer saw, and he simply said that you could help yourself.” He stepped even closer. “That he wouldn’t care if you lived or died- that you had landed here by your own fault, and that you weren’t his problem.” He leaned down to whisper in your ear. “That he didn’t care about you.”

You froze.

“He didn’t love you,” Alastor continued, before flicking his eyes up to your face. “But it isn’t your fault that you’re here, is it darling?” You couldn’t make a sound. “He tempted you.”

“You don’t even know half the story,” you said shakily. “You don’t know the truth.”

“For all you know, he could have set you up.”

“No, no. No… you don’t…” you tried to move away, but you couldn’t.

“If he truly loved you, don’t you think he’d try and save you?”

“You have no proof.” Your fist clenched even tighter, nails cutting into your palm and drawing golden blood. 

“Oh, but I do.”

And with that, he tapped the microphone on his cane. You stood, enraptured, as Lucifer’s unmistakeable voice flowed out.

“I don’t care if she lives or dies. I don’t care at all…” It crackled, then cut to another audio. “No, I don’t love her…” Another. “…someone else…” Another. “[name] isn’t my problem. It’s her own fault she’s ended up here. Try to save her? Are you serious? Just leave her for the Vees.”

The last one was a blow to your chest.

“Love her? Are you serious? She’s just some girl, a good distraction for a while.”

You sucked in a deep breath, then let it out slowly again. Turning away. “I need to go,” you gasped, and before Alastor could grab you you’d flung yourself into the dark night, your mind a storm of thoughts. 

Eventually, the familiar shadow of a building loomed into the distance. The building where the three overlords had captured you. 

They were powerful. They were useful. 

The window was still broken. You flapped your wings as you slowed to a stop, kicking your legs out to lose momentum before dropping into the room, gingerly stepping over the broken glass scattered across the floor. You looked up and around. The room was dark and empty. 

Taking in a shuddery breath, you sank to the floor. 

Reality finally crashed over you.

Tears stung your eyes, sobs bubbling up past your throat as you fought to stifle them vainly. They racked through your body, tears streaming down your face as you covered your mouth. 

Adam died, Lute hated you, you’d never see Emily again because you’d let Lucifer tempt you. You dragged your nails across your skin, relishing in the pain it gave you, the pain that morphed into anger. 

He had tempted you. Had you forgotten who he really was? What he really was?

He was the devil. He was temptation incarnate, and he had sought to lead you to ruin. The burning-red thoughts made your head spin, turning you dizzy with fury. The reason you were lying here, bruised and broken, seeking those who wanted to harm you, was him. 

The anger dissipated, breaking down back into sadness. How could he just leave me like this? Was I a mere distraction? Your heart tore apart. 

He took everything from me. 

The door to the room slowly creaked open, and you heard someone swear, footsteps racing towards you.

“You-“

You looked up. Velvette stepped back quickly, startled. “What happened to you?”

Vox followed soon after her. You searched, but Valentino was nowhere to be found. “Oh, you, great, you’re here. Wait, why the fuck are you here?”

“We’ve been looking for you everywhere,” Velvette chipped. You blinked at her hazily.

“Look, we-“ Vox seemed disconcerted at your strangely calm demeanour, despite your crazed appearance, but ploughed on. “Ignore Valentino. We want you to work with us.”

“Work with you?” You murmured softly. Your lips barely moved.

“Yes. Work.” Velvette looked at you. “You’re an angel. You’re, like, ten times more powerful than any other sinner or overlord here in Hell.”

“You’d be a perfect addition to our team,” Vox finished. 

You looked at them both for what seemed like ages. They both glanced at eachother, wondering if you were going to say anything.

Finally, you spoke: “What’s in it for me?”

“We’ll give you anything you want,” Vox said, voice laced with desperation. “Power, money, safety. We’ll give you anything.”

You hummed thoughtfully.

“Just tell us what you want,” Velvette assured you. “What do you want, angel girl?” You looked up at her, finally finding your answer.

“Revenge.”

[mars-ipan]

Mars i fear i may be dying of the plague. I have coughed blood into my sink twice now and my throat feels like I gave really aggressive oral to a scrubdaddy spongue.

Do you have any priest au thoughts/scenarios/rambles to sooth a troublde lad such as mysrlf🙏🙏

hemo. as a guy who has also coughed up blood somewhat recently. it may be time to go to an urgent care and make sure it’s nothing serious. there’s a pretty nasty pneumonia going around rn and if that IS what it is the sooner you get those antibiotics the faster you’ll recover.

as for priest au stuffs: the election kinda killed my creative flow (we’re ballin but we’re stressed) BUT i’ve been trying to flesh out hajime’s backstory a bit for the the past few days so here’s some bullet point brainstorming on that :D

check under the cut for the goods, as per usual ^_^ tw for mentions of child abuse, and also a general warning for priest au-typical horny talk and homophobia

i’ve been thinking abt hajime’s childhood/past a lot, partially bc i don’t feel fully confident writing him until i have the details of his backstory fleshed out. i think his dad was more of the aggressive “no son of mine” type of homophobic, where his mom was more of the “hate the sin love the sinner” type of homophobic. it’s cliché maybe but like. traditional catholic family values yanno. his family does differ from traditional catholicism in one way though: hajime is an only child.

i don’t think hajime was ever The Manliest Man growing up. yeah he was strong from helping on the farm, but he never felt the need to flaunt his masculine attributes. he never wanted to impress girls, he never initiated an arm-wrestling contest, and once he hit teenagerhood he quit wrestling with his friends altogether. when his friends asked him why he never roughhouses with them anymore, he tensed up and mumbled something about it being “weird” and “immature.”

he showed a lot of delicacy towards nature as well, a trait he carries into adulthood! rescuing turtles from roads, gently rehoming bugs, taking care not to step on wildflowers, that sort of thing. he was teased for this growing up :( he’d be compared to a disney princess and the like or just be called a pussy for Caring About The World Around Him. while he still loves nature and knows there’s nothing wrong with that, he does get embarrassed if his gentleness is pointed out— he’s anticipating some sort of reprimand.

been trying to think about hajime’s gay awakening. i imagine once he hit puberty he started having vague… thoughts. they weren’t attached to anyone but he kept it secret anyways since Lust Is A Sin and Masturbation Is A Sin Too and he’s not interested in growing hair on his palms or going blind (he later finds out that those are myths, but for now he heeds the tales), nor is he interested in the scolding he would get from his parents if they found out. from there we have two main options as i see it.

option A: in a parallel of the magazine he finds in Jabberwock, teen!hajime comes across some sort of gay porn. it’s completely accidental— he finds a mag or some other paraphernalia in a log or something, opens it, Realizes what is is, looks around for witnesses, and quickly stuffs it into his jacket. he’s not even sure why, but he knows he’s curious. as soon as he gets home he hides it between his mattress and his bedframe, and that night, when he’s sure his parents are asleep, he grabs a flashlight and starts to look through it. he doesn’t understand why he’s so fascinated until he realizes: he’s breathing heavily, hot in the face, absentmindedly rubbing his thighs together, and, most incriminatingly of all, he’s the hardest he’s ever been in his life. mortified, he shoves the magazine back under his mattress and tries his best to forget about what he saw, tossing and turning as he tries to calm down and go to sleep.

option B: hajime is really close with one of his peers. they’re childhood friends, and they’ve gotten along great forever. at some point, though, hajime starts feeling weird around him. not BAD weird, but… he’s nervous, and his skin seems to buzz whenever they touch, and his heart flutters when he makes his friend laugh, and… he can’t make sense of it all. not until he wakes up one night from a particularly vivid dream, chest heaving, skin covered in a thin sheen of sweat, and his sheets soiled with the evidence of his subconscious sin. he realizes what’s going on, and his heart sinks into his stomach. he does his best to ignore it, but it haunts him.

we could also combine these options and say both of these things happen, but idk yet. i like the loneliness of the porn but i also like the guilt of having to talk to your close friend and pretend you aren’t feeling confusing and frightening things for them.

hajime lives at home until his early adulthood, when he is Caught. if we went with option A for his awakening, then he comes home one day to find The Porn sitting on the kitchen table, its pages now crinkled from years of viewing, and his heart sinks into his stomach. he’s not sure how they found it— maybe his mom was cleaning his room and lifted his mattress? but it doesn’t matter— they Know now, and he has no way to explain himself.

if we go with option B, hajime is caught with that “good friend” of his. he had snuck in via hajime’s bedroom window, at a time they both were sure hajime’s parents would be asleep. unfortunately, hajime’s dad comes up to his room (hajime never learns the original intent of this visit) and opens the door to find his son, hair and clothes a mess, with the neighbor boy straddling his thighs, hands clearly paused in the middle of lifting up his son’s shirt. it’s silent for a bit, and the tension in the air is so heavy hajime feels like he can barely breathe. still, he breaks out of the stupor first, muttering a quiet “you need to go” to his friend without breaking eye contact with his father. the friend gets the message and bolts, leaving via the same window he came from. hajime is now alone with his father, so guilty and scared that he feels nauseous.

regardless of which of these events occurs, the outcome is the same. hajime’s father responds first, yelling and berating. hajime is terrified— he’s seen his dad mad, but never like this. never shouting obscenities and vile words at him. when told to explain himself hajime stumbles over his words, eventually landing on some variant of “i don’t know.” eventually, his father decides words aren’t punishment enough, and hajime gets the shit beat out of him for the first time in his life. he tries to defend himself, but he’s never been much of a fighter, and he doesn’t want to hit his dad, self defense or not. when his father finally storms off, his mother comes near, her eyes brimming with tears. she holds her arms out to hajime, tells her baby to come here. hajime, aching and bruised and perhaps with a freshly broken nose, collapses into his mother’s arms, silently crying into her shoulder as she pets his hair. she holds him close, rocking them from side to side, before she speaks. “oh, hajime, darling,” she starts, voice thick with tears and love, “i’m sorry. we’ve failed you, haven’t we? that’s why you’re doing this to us.” hajime’s stomach curdles at those words, and he quickly excuses himself, washing the blood off his face in the bathroom sink before he locks himself in his room.

regardless of the guilt he carries— he knew he was sinning, after all— hajime knows he is no longer safe at home. his father had never beat him like that before, and he doesn’t know that he would be able to walk away if it happened again. he doesn’t want to leave his mother, but he could tell that she was disgusted by him, too, her words still echoing in his mind. so, hajime packs as many of his things as he can fit into his suitcase, and the next day he leaves town, never letting himself look back. he job hops for a bit before he manages to get his house in Jabberwock— he got really, really lucky with the price of the property.

hajime hasn’t talked to anyone from his hometown since he left, and while he still has his parents’ landline number memorized, he doesn’t dare call. his dad’s probably disowned him, anyhow. sometimes he wonders how the people he grew up with are doing, but he can’t bring himself to go back. it’s not home anymore.

[lavenderhyacinths]

Something something - Blood is thicker than water, something something - Im just like my (grand) father

[kimageddon]

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Gloves

Seemed like a good idea at the time. He looks good in gloves.

Tags: (If your name is crossed out then check your settings or username -- Tumblr is not letting me tag you!) @alwayssnivellus @the-chains-are-the-easy-part @ashotofspotchka @justalittletomato @nahoney22 @eloquentmoon @stardustbee @lune-de-miel-au-paradis @nobody-expects-the-inquisitorius @rain-on-kamino @bacarasbabe @lifeless-being @lazarithebellydancingmime @firstofficerwiggles

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

[tsotf-fic]

♚ chapter 1 - when stars collide ♛

iii. the ward

As they approached the party, Y/N gasped. The palace itself matched the over-extravagance of the partygoers: hundred-foot-long velvet tapestries depicting the glory of the Empire decorated the front of the former Jedi Temple in a way seemingly designed to mock its ancient history. The statues of ancient Jedi sages had long been torn down, replaced by a single statue of the Emperor looming over the center of the stairway. Stormtroopers flanked the sides of the building, stony and unmoving, threatening any onlookers who would dare to step a toe out of line.

"Are there normally this many stormtroopers stationed outside of the Imperial Palace?" Leia asked, careful to sound as innocent as possible. It wasn't entirely fake; stormtroopers were nonexistent on Alderaan, so any eavesdropper would assume she was purely unaccustomed to their presence.

"It is standard protocol," Her father responded, and then he lowered his voice. "Although... something about this doesn't feel quite right to me, either."

Y/N shivered. Without saying anything, Leia intertwined their fingers, not quite grasping her hand but still holding on to her as they ascended the palace steps.

A crimson-plated protocol droid stood off to the side of the massive doors at the palace entrance. The palace guards had their staffs crossed, blocking entry to anyone who dared to enter uninvited. Not that anyone would–palace security had a reputation for being both impenetrable and merciless, and although there hadn’t been any incidents as of late, no one dared to find out just what the repercussions would be. There were rumors, however. It was best not to think of them. 

The droid straightened up as they approached, greeting them in a posh, mellifluous voice. “Greetings, loyal citizens of the Empire. I am L-3PO, official Imperial liaison between organics and robotics, tasked tonight with welcoming guests to this most wonderful event. I’ll have to check to see that you’re on the guest list and verify your identities–this will only take a moment!” 

Datapad in hand, the droid scrolled through with their stylus, and Y/N could only begin to imagine how long the list was; just how many planets, and people…

"Presenting the Alderaanian Delegation,” L-3PO said, reading from the illuminated screen. “Her Majesty, Queen Breha Organa, and His Highness, Viceroy Bail Organa.” 

The royal couple bowed and made their way through the doors, pausing just behind the entrance to wait for the girls.

L-3PO spoke again. “Her Highness, Princess Leia Organa, and…?” The droid looked over at Y/N skeptically, mechanical eyes glinting, and she froze. Leia’s eyes flicked between Y/N and her parents nervously, silently begging for their help as Y/N stood unresponsive.

Breha looked over at the frightened girl and stepped in. "Lady Y/N Alde, our ward."

"Oh–my deepest apologies, Your Highness, it took a moment for my database to recognize her face! Forgive my slight malfunction," L-3PO apologized, and the guards backed away, lowering their staffs. "Her Grace, Lady Y/N Alde."

A flame rose to Y/N’s cheeks as she stepped forward, praying her makeup would hide her humiliation as she went to join her party. A few sympathetic glances were thrown her way, but she chose to ignore them, save for the eyes of the princess–eyes that held no patronizing pity. Only anger.

fanfiction by @kaleidoscope1967eyes

[cuppajj]

In the case of capsaicin being connected to burning spice, would it be worse or better for him to know beforehand? Considering how much capsaicin cares about the things he accidentally destroys, finding out you're literally connected to the embodiment of destruction would be really scary.

And if he knew beforehand then he would always have this lingering shadow over his life, Knowing that he was originally destined to destroy just like his father.

I also like to think burning space will respect any decision as long as you're willing to fight to your last breath for it... Unless maybe you're his kin, then it might be more personal to him.

I’m wondering about that myself for this au, part of me wants him to know and part of me doesn’t. For now I’m leaning toward the idea that his memories of Spice are repressed.

He starts out not knowing, but some trigger (perhaps Spice waking up) begins to bring back memories he can only vaguely make out? Destruction that extends beyond what he had chained himself for, things that are harder to understand and things that seem so alien that he can’t tell if it’s a dream. But he always looks the same in his reflections, so too is the foreboding figure with the mane of black hair. But surely these are just recurring nightmares, right?

Likely he learns of his connection with Spice earlier than later on though, I like the idea that this au is Capsaicin grappling with his identity as Spice’s child rather than him piecing together that he is. Maybe Capsaicin firmly believes he’s one thing, but suddenly realizing so much of his previous life was hidden from him by himself might make him tempt whatever path Spice wants to push him down, in his own way at least. What more does he need to atone for? What if what Kouign-Amann and Prune Juice say about not needing to dwell on his past isn’t enough for him?

But he’s not going to follow in his father’s footsteps. But does his father know him better than he knows himself?

Basically Capsaicin remembering he’s the child of Destruction opens a rabbit hole of questions

Lots to think about… we’ll keep workshopping

[arcuuda]

I died for like half a year or whatever I'm back tho idk

Most recents. I think imma focus more on the dysfunctional and uncanny aspects of my self insert from now on

These ones are the much older ones

Bottom one is an AU I share with my homie @/zackiswack

[ofowlsdinosaursanddragons]

Woe Bede kaijumorpha au lore be upon ye.

Also TOH and EMESIS BLUE reference for the Bede, Eternatus being a shit dad, and two Bedes there.

[heavenlyraindrops]

♱Father Forgive Me (For I have Sinned) ~Chapter Twenty♱

Lucifer Morningstar x Angel!Reader Fandom: Hazbin Hotel Chapter Twenty Warnings: profanity, mentions of abuse Visit my pinned post to see all other chapters.

♱ In which the purest soul in Heaven falls from grace… for the Devil. ♱

[Chapter Twenty]

“That girl’s idea of ‘redemption’ is idiotic and… well, blasphemous.”

Charlie’s eyes welled with tears. Lucifer stared at Alastor’s microphone in shock. 

“It’s no surprise she’s come up with such a stupid idea. I suppose she takes after her father.”

Lucifer started towards Alastor, face murderous, but Vaggie had to stop him.

“Wait, let it finish,” she pleaded. Lucifer batted her hand away but didn’t move after that. Amusement glittered maliciously in Alastor’s eyes. 

“I am going to burn that hotel to the ground,” your voice said.  

“That’s it.” Lucifer snatched the cane out of Alastor’s hands, snapping it in half and tossing the remnants to the side. Charlie spluttered.

“Dad!”

Alastor sighed. “I knew I should have shown it to just Charlie. I apologise, dear,” he said, taking Charlie’s hands in his own. “It’s truly a shame you couldn’t have seen through her sooner.”

Charlie shook her head. “No, no… I… she said she believed me.” She clutched her chest, looking at everyone else, face broken. “She said she thought I was right. That she supported me.” 

Lucifer gritted his teeth, eyes still trained on Alastor. How fucking dare he try and lie, try and fake your voice, to try and run you through the mud. How dare he hurt Charlie any more than she already was. “[name] would never say that.”

Alastor quirked a brow. “And how would you know?”

“Fuuuuck you,” Lucifer hissed. He raised his hand but Charlie grabbed it, pushing it down.

“Dad, listen. How do we have any proof Alastor’s lying?”

“I fucking know he is,” Lucifer snapped. 

Charlie shook her head vigorously. “Dad, no. Please just listen-“

“She’ll be coming to the hotel. She’ll be after all of you.” Alastor cut in, the voice of reason. He eased Charlie away from Lucifer, putting an arm around her shoulder, and smiled thinly. “I suggest staying away from her.”

Lucifer looked at Vaggie, who looked stricken, and flashed her a look. She pressed her lips together and looked away. He turned to Husk, who simply dragged a hand across his face.

“I’m too fuckin tired for this,” the cat demon mumbled, dragging himself away to retire for the night. Lucifer turned back to Charlie and Alastor. 

“I’ll find her,” he said suddenly. 

“I advise you against it, Your Majesty,” Alastor sneered, but Lucifer ignored him, instead turning to Charlie. 

“I’ll find her, talk to her, clear this up.” And stalked up to Alastor. “And if I find out you’re fucking lying, trying to be some fucking slick bastard, you’ll end up just like your ugly cane- microphone- thing. Snapped in half. Got it, tampon?” He stabbed a finger into Alastor’s chest, making the man’s eye twitch.

“Crystal,” came the reply.

“Dad…” Charlie sighed and turned away, clutching her arms. Lucifer rubbed her back, steering her away from Alastor and up the stairs.

“Let’s get some sleep, Apple Pie,” he murmured. “It’s been a long night.”

Charlie nodded, too tired to reply. 

-

“You look so cute, babes,” Velvet almost purred, hands patting down your skirt. You sighed, readjusting the hem of your black top. “You’ll fit in perfectly with us.” She smirked, winking, and grabbed the back of your neck to drag you in for a selfie.

You watched her post it, not bothering to check what the caption was and instead walking around, checking out her studio. “I like your, uh… fashion stuff.”

Velvet hummed. “Right?” She looked at you up and down. “You know, you’d make the perfect model.”

“Thanks.” You rubbed your arms, not knowing how to react until Velvette grabbed your arm, tossing some more clothes over her arm and dragging you to the door. 

“C’mon. Val wants this stuff for his shoot.”

-

You’d opted to sit outside the studio doors, pulling out a cigarette Velvette had tossed you beforehand as you sat on the low, crumbling wall with the night air biting into your skin. You’d never smoked, but might as well start trying now, right? You were in Hell, after all. You looked up to the night sky, the white spot of salvation floating in it. 

“Need a lighter, toots?”

You looked up, to see a tall spider standing before you, a pink fur boa wrapped around his shoulders. He smiled, waving a lighter at you before tossing it. You fumbled to catch it.

“Uh, thanks,” you muttered, flicking it on as he clambered onto the spot next to you. 

He took an drag on his cigarette, and you took one on yours, immediately inhaling too much smoke. You tried to smother your coughs with your fist, yet unable to avoid catching an amused look from him.

He held out his hand for the lighter. “Never smoked, huh?” You handed it to him, shaking your head. “Yer supposed to breathe in slowly, baby.” Smoke curled from his lips as he spoke, before the remnants shooting out as he exhaled sharply. 

You took another drag, and breathed out slowly. “Thanks,” you muttered. “Say, what’s your name?”

“Angel Dust.” He crossed your legs, looking at you proudly as if you were supposed to gasp, or squeal, or something. You just stared at him. He raised an eyebrow. “Dontcha know who I am?”

You shook your head. “Just got here… like, today, so…”

Angel checked his wrist. “It’s one AM, toots. Musta been a long day, then, huh?”

“Mhm…” you didn’t have the heart in you to talk about it. 

“Well, I’m an actor, toots.” He winked, and you didn’t have to ask what kind of actor he was to realize. He flicked his head at the building next you. “I work for Val.”

“Cool.” You pressed your cigarette to your lips thoughtfully, gazing into the night sky. “I work with Val.”

Angel Dust stared at you. “You what?”

You looked up. “I work with Val,” you repeated.

“Since when?”

You shrugged. “Since an hour ago, I’d say.”

Angel stumbled up and away from you. “You ain’t an overlord.”

You frowned, some negative feeling buzzing in your gut at his reaction, so stood up and squared your shoulders. “Not yet I’m not. But you can expect me to make my-“ you held up two fingers, smirking, “-second debut on six-six-six news by the end of tomorrow.” You dropped your hand, as realization dawned over him. 

“Holy shit. You’re the angel.”

You blinked. “I- yeah.” 

He furrowed his brow. “And you wanna be an overlord?”

You smiled stonily. “That seems to be the best plan of action for me down here.” You swept your hand at Pentagram city, bright against the sky. “I mean, what else is there to do down here?”

“You could get redeemed.”

You froze.

“No,” you spat suddenly, whirling on him. “I don’t want to get fucking redeemed, and I’m not going anywhere near that hotel.”

He blinked. “So you do know Charlie.”

You laughed dryly. “Sure I do. And she’s got some explaining to do.”

He frowned, reaching out to you half-heartedly, then dropping his hand. “What do you mean?”

You turned away. “She’ll know what I mean.”

Angel clamped his lips together. You didn’t say anything further.

“Angel, you fucking whore you have spent way too long out there!” Valentino almost screamed, voice muffled by the thick studio walls. Angel’s face seemed to freeze with panic, until he took a shaky breath and tottered back inside the building, throwing one last glance at you. 

“Angel Dust,” you said quietly. He looked up. You raised your head. “What does he do to you?”

Angel stared at you, unable to talk. 

“Does he hurt you?” You prodded.

After a few moments of silence, you gave a wan smile. “It’s okay.” You walked up next to him, and turned to him. “We go inside together.” Grabbing his hand and squeezing it. “He can’t say anything if you were with me.”

“Thanks,” he muttered, wiping at his eyes. You wiped the smile off of your face and stared ahead.

“Consider it an apology for my little outburst earlier,” you said. Angel Dust nodded. 

You both stepped inside. 

[selfproclaimedunicorn]

Write me a fic: Per our convo yesterday. I must ask for Regency!Griffith and his meltdown over falling in love in the most reforming your local Rake type way 🧍‍♂️🫡

this 100000000% got away from me & it is now only tangentially what you asked for. I mean, what you asked for is in there, but I couldn't decide which idea I liked more so I had to string them together & now it's a 4.6k word monstrosity.

Griffith paced, mind addled so that he coursed with the nervous energy that apparently plagued most of the men from his mother’s side of the family. It was as unfair as his current situation. “If you keep that up, you’ll wear a rut into the floor.” Aegon mused as he lifted his glass of brandy, examining the amber liquid in the light streaming through the windows of Thorn Hall’s parlor. He’d made himself quite comfortable, sprawled out on one of the sofas to the point he’d made Griffith’s discarded coat slide off the arm and onto the floor. He stopped and stared at his cousin, gray eyes wide with indignation and the wild concern that so preoccupied him. Aegon giggled over the rim of his snifter before downing more than was even half appropriate for a single sip. Griffith clenched his fists, every muscle in his hands flexing. “Would it kill you to be serious for five minutes?!” He snapped. Annoyance with his best friend could at least be identified and be used as an easy target to let out the building steam of whatever issue had his stomach in knots.

“You’re well and truly in a hobble, aren’t you?” Aegon sat up properly now, “Tell me what the trouble is.”

“Mya Redfort is the trouble. At this point in seduction, I would have at least gotten my cock sucked, and yet she is resisting every attempt at anything further than flirtation–it isn’t like I have not charmed her, but I am getting nothing from it!”

Aegon set his snifter on a low table near the sofa and leaned forward, a contemplative look on his face as he rested his chin in his hand, a finger tapping at his cheek. He’d only been married for a year, a decision reached in the immediate aftermath of their friend-and-cousin’s marriage to his sister, and his own previously similar behavior and thought patterns still rang fresh in his mind. Griffith began pacing again, running a hand through his dark brown curls as he tried to puzzle out his problems with and about Mya Redfort.

“I feel sick. Why is nothing working? You will tell me plainly if I have lost my edge, won’t you?”

“You? Griff, you could never lose your edge! What you need to do, is you just need to shift focus. Mya isn’t receptive, so there is no reason to keep going back. Why not set your sights on that Linderly girl with the–”

Griffith stopped his pacing immediately, his stare hard when he looked at his friend again. “How dare you.”

It was silent in the room after that, Aegon blinking slowly as Griffith felt his stomach drop. Realization set in far too late, and he hated it. Or, no–vexed as he was, he could not hate anything that had to do with Mya.

“One Miss Redfort has tamed her local rake it would seem.” Aegon pressed his lips together to try and stifle it, but all he managed was making his grin look ridiculous and tight.

He pointed at his friend, eyes blown wide once more. “Egg–”

“Welcome to the brotherhood! Interesting one to be a part of, quite cozy though. Provides for a very reliable–”

“I am not going to make a fool of myself over Mya like you did with Abrogail.”

“I did not make a fool of myself!” He stood up, squaring his shoulders to try and make himself look more imposing. It did not do a terribly effective job when he was trying to stand toe to toe with Griffith. Aegon was a good five inches shorter and cut a far less dramatically proportioned figure.

“You could not eat, you could not sleep. You eloped with her weeks after Stannis married your sister because you knew whatever Aunt Alicent was trying to arrange to curb your appetites would not make you as happy as they looked. I sat in this very parlor and watched you carry on in calf-love like some kind of barely grown boy-man who'd never known a woman in his life!”

It was silent in the parlor again as all the bluster slowly left Aegon. He sucked his teeth, hands coming to his hips as he looked up at the ceiling.

“I did carry on, didn't I?”

“Yes.”

He paused again, his gaze leveling with Griffith’s once more. Aegon worked his jaw, just as contemplative as before, and then his lilac eyes lit up. Something had struck him, and all Griffith could do was hope that it was brilliant.

“I do not know how much longer I can hold out.” Mya moaned as she slid further down into the chair beside Rhea’s dressing table, her dress riding up to show her ankles and the pink, embroidered slippers she wore.

“It is taking so much longer to get Griffith to fall for you than it feels like it should be.” Abby mused, her elbow propping on her crossed arm so she could put her cheek in her hand. She furrowed her brows, her small mouth pursing into a thoughtful pout.

“My brother is not so easy to wrap around one's finger as Aegon was,” Adrienne rebutted, her tone harsh and clipped, “he is as pig-headed as our mother.”

“I’d be surprised if he was even capable of being aware of any feelings he developed for someone.” Aerea’s words were softer, more airy, than her twin sister’s. That was the only indication the older of them was even paying attention, she seemed more preoccupied with walking her fingers up one of the poster’s of Rhea’s bed.

“You talk as if Griffith has ever felt anything more complex for a woman than lust or brotherly protectiveness,” Rhea said.

Aerea shrugged and leaned against Rhea, her trail up the bedpost left abandoned. “I know him well enough to guess.”

“If the two of you only have negative things to say about your brother, why are you helping me to win his committed affection?”

“Because we like you, and you mean a good deal to our cousins.” Aerea was still leaning hard against her.

“And because it will be better for our brother in the long run if he settles down, and better for us if he stops tarnishing the reputation of our half of the family. I don’t want to be the sister of the man who has ruined every woman he comes in contact with.”

“I am sure it has nothing to do with how good and romantic a story Griffith’s taming would make, right Adrienne?” Rhea teased, bringing color to her cousin’s cheeks. She turned away quickly, trying to hide her flush from the room full of women.

“Friendship with Rhea and Helaena and Abby, and not sullying your debuts with his reputation, and good stories; right, good, motivations in order. Can someone please help me figure out how to make Griffith Tyrell fall in love with me so I can stop pining? I want to kiss him so badly that I am fit to burst, and you two said I should not even do that!”

“Because that is how he will ensnare you, and the next thing you know you are one more in his long string of abandoned lovers, and no one gets what they want except him.”

Mya sighed tiredly. She was resigned to something, although Rhea could not be sure if it was to “her fate” of eternally trying to win Griffith over, or to subjecting herself to whatever the twins told her to do. Whichever it was, both would be over soon. He was as stubborn as his sisters said, that much was true, but he was not completely without all good sense. If Abby had been able to win Aegon over and reform him from his rakish ways, then Mya could do the same for Griffith. He was no worse, he was just craftier and less aware of his own heart.

“What we need to do is plan one big, grand moment that will make him realize if he has fallen for you or not. If we can make this Griffith’s idea, and if he becomes aware of it all at once, he will have to do something about it. That is his way after all,” Rhea proposed.

“Rhea is right!” Aerea sat up all at once, making her wince as she shouted. She shoved her younger cousin's shoulder, grumbling how she hurt her ears.

“Oh, yes!” Abby perked back up at that, her pout turning into a grin that spread across her freckled face, “That is brilliant, Rhea. Between all of us, we will find a way to make Griffith jealous.”

“I did not say to make him jealous.” Rhea clarified, skeptical of Abby’s trail of thought.

“No, but what better way to go about your suggestion is there?” She rebutted, doubling down on her plan of playing to Griffith’s jealousy.

Rhea ran her tongue over her teeth. There wasn't a better way; her father, Aegon, Aemond, even Stannis; none of them were immune to such feelings, so neither was Griffith. Surely. So if there was a surefire way to know if all their long attempts at getting him to love Mya in a truer way than he told all the other young women had paid off while he simply stubbornly clung to the known of his old ways, it would be to see if he got possesively jealous towards her affections.

“Alright Abrogail, what do you propose?”

“Nothing yet, we need a place and time for me to really get a good plot that is likely to work.”

“The ball Lady Johanna is hosting to try and suss out good matches for her girls,” Mya offered, her tone so casual it could have been an off-handed remark, “because it is not like her husband is trying terribly hard to look.”

“Because Lord Jason Lannister is a man with very little going on in his mind beyond his own importance,” Adrienne quipped. Her opinion of her third cousin mirrored every other member of her grandmother’s family, and if it was not so funny to see him live up to those opinions by bumbling through social interactions, a trifle disguised and riding high off his own pomp, Rhea would have felt bad for the man.

“Oh, yes! That is perfect!” Abby took a few steps away from where Mya sat, her hands clasped in front of her chest as a dreamy look entered her eyes, “We will all make sure you are absolutely incomparable, and as soon as we have eyes on Griffith and know he is aware of your presence, you will dance with someone else. A big show must be made of it too, he must see you can easily replace his spot on your dance card. All of the spots, even! He shan’t even have a chance with you tonight unless he begs, because Mya Redfort is not so easily won over.”

“I like your plan, but what if whoever I dance with instead gets the wrong idea and thinks I do want to replace Griffith?”

“Dance with Stannis. The threat of you being willing to do something besides pining for Griffith the whole night is still there, but he is already married and is head-over-heels for Helaena.”

“Rhea, that is so brilliant I could kiss you!”

“Remember Baldric, subtlety is key.” Griffith whispered in his younger cousin's ear before gently pushing him in the direction of the Lannister girls. Whether Baldric was determined to follow in his and Aegon’s footsteps, or start off as seriously as his brother did not matter. Subtlety in his advances and flirtations had served Griffith well, and so it would serve his young protege as he was thrust onto society.

Griffith only made a brief glance towards his cousin as he greeted Lady Johanna's two oldest girls; he was interested in Baldric's progress, but he could hear about it later. He had plans for the night…or well, he had Aegon’s plans (their wording altered slightly so as to be about Mya Redfort instead of Abrogail). This night was for pulling out all the stops, for wooing his blonde beauty and finally winning a kiss “to spur him” into telling her how besotted he was–as if he were so overcome in the moment he had to tell her right then, and had not been fretting for two days over his sudden reform.

Griffith breezed through the crowd, gray eyes sweeping across every gathered face until he saw her. Her gown was red, it usually was at these sorts of functions, with puffed white sleeves and a bodice that seemed to act more as a shelf to push her breasts up than anything else. Tight, blonde curls framed her face, and a comb with red roses held her bun in place. He would have thought Mya looked beautiful at any given point on a Tuesday morning, flushed from laughter at some conspiratorial secret she shared and in one of the day dresses she always wore, her gloveless fingers stained from eating too many raspberries, but tonight she made Griffith nearly forget to breath. If it were not improper, he would be her partner for every dance so that no one else could.

He plucked two champagne flutes from the tray a servant held as he passed by on his way to where Mya stood with his cousins. Appearing effortlessly out of the crowd, her first drink of the night already on offer, was all part of the plan. It was not Griffith being a besotted fool like Aegon. 

“Miss Redfort.” 

Her green eyes, already large and expressive, were wide as she looked up at him. Mya was already flying her colors, her cheeks subtly red and undoubtedly warm. Her pretty, pink mouth opened with a false start, and she pressed her lips together for a thoughtful moment before properly saying anything.

“It is very good to see you this evening, Mister Tyrell,” her eyes flickered to the glass he held out towards her, “and it is thoughtful of you to already be seeing to my needs.”

“I am nothing but thoughtful. And in my thoughtfulness, I came to the idea that, once you were done of course, I could have the honor of your first dance of the evening.”

“My first dance has already been promised to Stannis.”

His head whipped towards his cousin, who looked a bit bewildered for a moment. Then, Stannis’s eyes met Griffith’s, and an easy smile (an expression that would have looked as at home on his younger brother) spread across his face. He had been told the plan, both he and Baldric had because it was the way of things, Stannis knew Griffith was to woo Mya as an excuse to tell her everything. Surely he would not dare be overcome by one of his rare moods of mischief now. His having no taste for “such games” could not mean he would throw a rub in the way, because that would be participating.

“Indeed it has. Sorry, Griff.”

Helaena slipped her hand from the crook of Stannis’s elbow, and he offered his hand to Mya. Griffith seethed as his lady placed her hand atop his cousin’s and let herself be led away. Rhea and Abby giggled as they leaned into each other, and his mouth turned down into a tight, visible frown. Neither of those two were getting the champagne, that was certain, and so Griffith shoved it towards Stannis’s wife. Helaena either did not know or did nor care about what was going on, and happily took the delicate flute of sparkling wine from him.

Rhea grinned, every bit as smug as any of Griffith’s company was capable of. “Why, Griffith–”

He did not wait for whatever Rhea was going to say, silently stalking further into the ballroom so as to continue watching Mya and Stannis. And heavens but Mya was graceful, even if she was dancing with another man. Griffith’s nose scrunched, that should be him she glided about with. What good was a dance with Stannis, anyhow? He was married already and not even half the catch Griffith was. Or, no, that was a disservice to both Helaena and, under circumstances where his head was clearer, his friend; Stannis was not half as good a catch for Mya. He was perfect for Aegon’s sister though, strange as she might be at times.

“You are upset.”

“Shit!” He startled so that champagne sloshed over the rim of his glass. Griffith would never know if it was not being able to hear Helaena’s approach over the music and the gossip, or if it was just her silent skulking that made her able to sneak up on him.

“You are not doing a good job at hiding it,” she continued, voice bland and matter-of-fact, “you never do. You should not be surprised I noticed.”

“I’m not surprised you–shouldn’t you be giggling with Rhea and Abrogail?”

“I do not think what they’re giggling about is funny.”

“Fair enough.”

“It does seem to have worked though.” Helaena said before taking a sip of the champagne that had been meant for Mya.

“What worked?”

“Abrogail’s plan to make you jealous for Mya’s attention; something about you not noticing feelings, and grand conspiracies they all came up with. It all seems silly to me, and I doubt Stannis would have danced with Mya if he knew.”

They could not have schemes, he had schemes! Throwing propriety to the wind in a move that would have probably made Aegon proud, Griffith downed the whole flute of champagne in one go, finishing it just in time to thrust the now empty glass into the hands of one of the Lannister’s butlers. If Mya was going to try and make him jealous in some gambit to–fiend seize it, who even knew what her gambit was! Either way, two could play at this game, and at the end of the night one of them would get whatever it was they wanted.

“Helaena, would you like to dance?”

“I shall pretend I could not hear you, and that way no one can be offended.”

“I’m offended.”

“At this moment, I don’t think you count.”

Griffith scoffed, even more offended now. What had he done to her?! It was not like he’d ever flirted with Helaena, Stannis had wanted her since they were boys and it would not have been right.

“I don’t want to join whatever games you and Mya are playing at, and I don’t think you should even be engaging in them in the first place. They do not make any sense” Helaena paused to take another sip, and then continued, “you are not dimwitted, although you are acting a bit like it right now, you know how Mya feels about you, Griffith. She feels how every woman you’ve charmed feels about you, and you know how you feel–”

“And how do I feel, Helaena?”

“More strongly than you would ever want to let on, if you actually rising to the bait means anything.” And it did, she knew it did, because Stannis’s wife was obnoxiously insightful. Griffith did not respond, he let her stew in how right she was in silence, and after a moment, Helaena continued.

“I don’t know why you cannot just tell her.”

“Because…because.”

She blinked slowly, her light purple eyes boring into him with all the intensity his sister Aerea’s eyes ever carried, or his Uncle Aemon’s. She was waiting for a justification that would not come, because Griffith wasn’t sure there was one.

“So there is no reason you cannot tell her how you feel towards her, just as I said. And you must know that you never telling her will get neither of you what you desire, and that should she move on because you never commit, that you will never be as happy in your rakish behavior as you were before all of this nonsense that has been going on all season ever since you failed to get Mya into your bed the first time.”

“How does Stannis tolerate you always being right?”

“He does not ‘tolerate’ anything, he likes it.”

Griffith and Helaena stood silently next to each other after that, the both of them watching the dancers sweep across the floor. He watched Stannis and Mya, still burning with jealousy because of his infuriating cousins. Helaena probably watched everyone, or if she was watching Stannis and Mya it was not because of jealousy, but because of how well she liked him.

He took his first steps when the final few notes of the dance began, he knew all of the music from these balls as well as he knew the back of his own hand, or as well as he knew how to elicit sweeter sounds from whatever woman he’d set his sights on. Mya Redfort in this case, and in all the cases for the rest of his life. Because apparently these sorts of things were inevitable for his family.

“Miss Redfort.”

“Oh! Mister Tyrell,” she smiled up at him, just as teasing as it always was these past three months, but more knowing than coy, “I presume you are here for that dance? I shall have to check my card, I believe it is already full, or nearly at least.”

“We must talk.” He cut in quickly before she could continue, his hand involuntarily coming to rest on her upper arm. Her cheeks went red again, brighter than before, and an increasingly familiar spark of hope shone in her green eyes.

“Must?”

“It is important, gravely so…please.”

“Alright.” Her voice was soft as a breath, and Griffith dropped his hand to offer Mya his arm. She slipped her hand into the crook of his elbow, and her smile betrayed her excitement. Mya had fully convinced herself she was getting exactly what she wanted how she had planned to get it, but she didn’t because it was Helaena that got him to speak to her plainly, not whatever she had plotted with Rhea and Abby. Griffith at least had the satisfaction of that.

“I'll make sure Lady Johanna does not see the two of you leaving and send out a chaperone.” Stannis whispered before side-stepping between two gathering groups of dancers and making his way back into the throng of guests in the ballroom. He was a good and reliable chap when nerves or a bout of humor that came at someone else's expense did not overtake him.

Mya clung to Griffith’s arm as they made their way through the ballroom and out the side door that led into the manor’s grounds. The gardens at Casterly weren't much in comparison to Thorn Hall, but they were nice enough, and it wasn't like the pair of them were there to take in the scenery. They remained silent when they stopped in front of the fountain, the only sound the quiet splash of water from the lion's mouth falling into the basin at its stone paws.

Coming up with what to say had felt easy when he schemed with Aegon, it was so much more intimidating to think of what to tell Mya when saying plainly how he felt loomed before him. Griffith had never been so true in any of the pretty words he so easily spun for the women who came before her, and now that he meant everything it felt like every word he’d ever known left him. Mya brought her hands to clasp in front of her chest and turned to face him, it was now or never.

“This evening has not gone at all how I planned it to, but it has still brought me to the ending I wanted…or at least something similar.”

“Us being alone together hardly constitutes you having your way.”

“I did not bring you here to–blast and damnation–Mya Redfort, I love you!”

“Truly?” Even though this was what she'd wanted, she sounded surprised and disbelieving. Mya, it would seem, had not planned this far either.

“Deeply, madly. For months I have thought about, have wanted, no one but you. It is as if you have bewitched me…and it frightens me. I do not know what to do with such sincerity, except to offer it to you and hope you will have it. And–and hope you will have me; mind, body, soul, whatever you desire of me, Mya, you shall have it. I would not want to give myself to anyone else.”

“Oh…oh, Griffith,” her eyes shimmered with unshed tears, but she smiled all the same, “I love you too. I have loved you.” There was weight there. She’d been harboring such affections for him for months at least. Had it been years? He hoped not, Griffith did not like the thought of Mya silently pining as he flirted and fucked his way through dozens for three years; disappointing her as he carried on so. No, he would banish the thought. It didn't matter now. This moment was all that mattered.

He gently cupped her cheek, and she leaned into his touch. “Would you marry me, if I asked?”

“I would. And…and would you stay and still mean all of what you said if I let you kiss me?”

“Wild horses could not drag me away.” His gaze did not break from Mya’s as his hand slid from her soft cheek to her jaw, his thumb resting under her chin so he could tilt her head back. Her eyes were wide and wanting, and she parted her lips as Griffith leaned down to kiss her.

Mya kissed him back, firm and hungry, as her hands came to his chest, her fingers curling into the fabric of his coat as if that would hold him in place forever. As if she needed to go to that much effort.

They were breathless when the kiss broke, and Griffith put his forehead against hers as he gently ran his thumb over her lower lip. His other hand went to her waist, and he wanted desperately to pull her as close as he could, to guide Mya into grinding against him. 

“I love you, Mya.” No amount of times he could tell her would be enough to satisfy him.

“Enough to kiss me again?”

“For that and more.” He did as she bid, teasingly brief, as his hand dropped from her jaw and came to hold her waist like his other. Mya pressed her lips together into a tight frown, her brows furrowing over her pretty green eyes. She released his coat and held his face now, pulling Griffith’s mouth down into hers to kiss him how she had meant.

He smiled into the kiss, truly being in love only changed a handful of things really, and walked Mya backwards until her knees hit the basin of the fountain. She sat there, dragging Griffith with her so he loomed over her.

He leaned on one arm, his hand flat against the smooth stone of the fountain basin and placed close enough to Mya that his thumb was against her hip. His other hand came to her thigh, giving it a brief squeeze through the satiny fabric of her red gown. Griffith would not push her for more than this, he could make himself be satisfied if she wanted to wait for their engagement or even their marriage for anything more intimate, but he could still relish in touching her and silently pray for more. He was still getting what he wanted after all: turning Mya Redfort into Mya Tyrell.

[thepurecinnamonroll]

Au idea:

Alex is a nun and Olivia is some kind of fugitive (who used to be a detective, but things happened) seeking refuge in the church that Alex stays in, and (of course) they end up in a relationship despite Alex not even liking Olivia at first because of her flirty personality and... She's a nun— anyway

We gotta add the fact that every time Alex and Olivia do something romantic (whether they're kissing or making love), Alex would pray during or afterwards— and instead of Olivia being offended, she thinks it's adorable :D

[gabyoficial3]

The one who pressed the red button,was not me

The one who pressed the red button,was another boy