#so let me razzle dazzle you

[cuntybun]

i wish i liked sex as much as the next guy. no one talks about this except for annoying people, but not really participating in an activity that a good chunk of the world would call the best feeling ever is kinda a bummer. it would be sooo sweet to be like "i want your cock inside of me" and mean it

[reidmarieprentiss]

Don't Get In Your Own Way

Summary: You and Spencer have always been close - everyone else can see it's more than just friendship. When will you two be ready to see it as well?

Pairing: Spencer Reid x BAU fem!reader

Category: fluff, light smut (18+)

Warnings/Includes: alcohol consumption, suggestive content, friends to lovers, minimal BAU case talk, mild public indecency

Word count: 10.3k

a/n: this was an olddd draft ,,, i came back to give it the ol' razzle dazzle

main masterlist

Every afternoon, like clockwork, you and Spencer retreat to the stairs outside the FBI offices, your little quiet corner away from the noise of the bullpen. The team is usually scattered—some opting for takeout at their desks, others heading out for a bite—but you and Spencer? You prefer the fresh air, the slight reprieve from case files and fluorescent lights, just the two of you.

Spencer talks—a lot. And you let him. You never interrupt when he goes off on a tangent, whether about a book he’s been reading, some obscure historical event, or even the latest behavioral theory he’s been mulling over. He’s learned, over time, that you listen—that you don’t just humor him but engage, ask questions, challenge him. It’s one of the reasons he feels safest around you, why he lets the mask slip, why he doesn’t feel the need to filter himself. Around you, he’s just Spencer. Not Dr. Reid, not the genius of the BAU. He's just a guy who loves sharing the things that make his brain light up.

Lately, he’s been growing his hair, letting the waves fall into his face while he works. He never noticed how often he pushed it back, but you did. One afternoon, after watching him shove it out of his eyes for the hundredth time while struggling through paperwork, you wordlessly slid a hair tie onto his wrist.

“For when you finally give up,” you’d said with a small smile.

Spencer had looked at the simple black band like it was some kind of sacred object before slipping it on. He never did tie his hair up, but the band stayed. Now, when he’s anxious, when his thoughts spiral too fast for even him to keep up, he rolls it between his fingers, snaps it lightly against his skin, and uses it as an anchor. He wonders if you even realize what you’ve given him and how something so small makes him feel grounded.

You are completely unaware of how much Spencer sees you and how much he feels for you. You like him—more than you should, more than is probably appropriate for two people who are just friends—but you tell yourself it doesn’t matter. Spencer is brilliant and kind and so effortlessly attractive, and you? You convince yourself he’d never see you that way. It’s not self-deprecating, not really—just… reality.

Meanwhile, Spencer sits beside you every day, wondering how you don’t notice how his eyes linger, how his heart jumps every time you laugh, and how he holds onto your hair tie like a lifeline. How he wonders if you feel the same way.

—

Derek doesn’t let up. Not now, not ever.

Spencer’s been subjected to his relentless teasing for years, but ever since he started growing his hair out—and ever since you gave him that hair tie—Derek has been on a mission.

“Pretty Boy, you’re pathetic,” Derek says one afternoon, leaning against Spencer’s desk with his arms crossed, watching him roll the hair tie between his fingers like it’s some kind of lifeline.

Spencer, who has been deep in thought, barely looks up. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, come on, man,” Derek scoffs. “The hair tie? The way you light up every time she talks to you? The fact that you, the man who hates all forms of physical contact, don’t even flinch when she gets in your space? Do you even hear yourself when you talk about her?”

Spencer blinks at him, feigning ignorance. “I talk about her the same way I talk about all of my friends.”

Derek lets out a loud, incredulous laugh. “That’s funny. Real funny. Because I don’t remember you getting all flustered and dreamy-eyed when you talk about me.”

Spencer’s brows furrow. “I don’t get flustered.”

Derek raises a brow and mimics Spencer in a high-pitched, breathy voice. “Oh, she listens to me ramble. She actually engages with me. She’s so perceptive.” He drops the act, shaking his head. “Man, you are down bad.”

Spencer rolls his eyes and turns back to his book, a weak defense mechanism. “I really don’t think—”

“No, you don’t think,” Derek interrupts. “That’s the problem. Because if you were thinking, you’d realize that she looks at you the same way you look at her.”

That makes Spencer freeze, a book halfway in his hands.

Derek smirks, knowing he’s struck something deep. “Yeah. That’s what I thought.”

Spencer opens his mouth, ready to protest and argue some logical counterpoint, but nothing comes out. He can’t explain away the way his heart clenches at the mere possibility that you might feel the same.

Derek slaps a hand on his shoulder, grin widening. “Any day now, Pretty Boy. Any day now.” Then he walks off, leaving Spencer to stare blankly at his book, brain absolutely wrecked.

He glances down at the hair tie around his wrist, suddenly hyper-aware of the way it sits against his skin.

Rossi is just as relentless with you as Derek is with Spencer—except he’s a little more subtle about it. He doesn’t tease in the same playful, in-your-face way that Derek does with Spencer. No, Rossi prefers to plant little seeds, make small comments, and give you just enough to get your mind churning.

He’s been keeping a close eye on you ever since you joined the team. Maybe it’s the way you love to talk about home or how you light up when someone treats you like family. So, naturally, Rossi steps in. A guiding hand, an occasional piece of advice, a warm presence when you need one.

And right now? Right now, you need someone to tell you that you’re being blind as hell.

“You know, bella, I’ve been around a long time,” Rossi says one afternoon, leaning back in his chair, swirling a glass of bourbon in his hand. “I’ve seen a lot of things. A lot of things. And I’d like to think I have a pretty good read on people.”

You barely look up from your case file. “Are you about to say something wise or just something annoying?”

He smirks. “Oh, I can do both.”

You roll your eyes but don’t argue.

Rossi takes a sip of his drink, watching you with that knowing look that makes you feel like you’re being studied under a microscope. “You like him, you know.”

Your stomach twists uncomfortably, but you don’t react. Not outwardly, at least. “Who?”

“Oh, don’t play dumb. You’re smarter than that.”

You exhale sharply, still keeping your eyes on your paperwork. “I don’t like Spencer.”

Rossi chuckles, setting his glass down with a soft clink. “That’s cute. Now say it again like you mean it.”

You finally glance up at him, narrowing your eyes. “I mean it.”

“Mm-hmm,” Rossi hums, clearly unconvinced. He leans forward, resting his arms on his desk. “You know, you remind me a lot of myself when I was younger.”

You raise a brow. “Oh? You had a thing for Spencer, too?”

Rossi lets out a full-bodied laugh. “No, but I was stubborn. And I was good at convincing myself that things weren’t what they obviously were.” He tilts his head, eyes twinkling with amusement. “Let me ask you something. If I told you that Spencer thinks the world of you, that he practically glows when you’re around, what would you say?”

You swallow, suddenly very aware of your heartbeat. “I’d say you’re exaggerating.”

Rossi shakes his head. “No, bella, I’m not. Derek sees it. I see it. Hell, even Garcia sees it, and she’s usually too busy matchmaking herself to notice when something’s right under her nose.” He leans back again, watching you carefully. “But the real question is—why don’t you see it?”

Your mouth opens, then closes. The truth? Because the idea that Spencer could feel that way about you is terrifying. You’ve convinced yourself he wouldn’t, couldn’t, not in the way you secretly hope.

So you deflect. “Spencer’s just… Spencer. He’s sweet to everyone.”

Rossi sighs, shaking his head with something like fond exasperation. “You keep telling yourself that, kid. But one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time.”

You scoff lightly. “What, you want me to march over there and declare my undying love?”

Rossi grins. “Wouldn’t be the worst idea.”

You shake your head, muttering something about meddling old men as you shove your paperwork into a neat stack, trying to ignore the way your hands feel slightly unsteady.

Rossi just watches you, amusement still lingering on his face.

Because he knows.

And one day, you’ll know, too.

—

The precinct is buzzing with too much movement and too much noise. Officers shuffling papers, detectives arguing over case details, coffee machines gurgling, the fluorescent lights humming like an irritating static in the back of your head. It’s a small station, cramped, and the team has been forced into an even smaller conference room, shoulder to shoulder with local law enforcement.

Spencer has been quiet all morning, his fingers twitching slightly, his blinking a little too frequently. You’ve been with him long enough to notice when the world is becoming too much for him, and right now, it’s clear that the rapid-fire conversations, the overlapping voices, the smell of burnt coffee and cheap air freshener—it's all pushing him to the edge of his tolerance.

So, as usual, he attaches himself to you.

It’s something he’s done for years, seeking you out when things get overwhelming. You’ve never minded. In fact, you never even thought much of it—until now.

Right now, his head is slumped against your shoulder, a deep sigh escaping him, his breath warm where it ghosts over the fabric of your shirt. His long fingers loosely clutch your jacket sleeve, not in an obvious way, but just enough that you know he’s anchoring himself with your presence. His entire frame is pressed slightly against your side, fitting into your space in a way that should feel intrusive—but it doesn’t. It never does.

But today? Today, it does feel different. Not bad, not at all, just... noticeable.

The warmth of his body against yours. The way his hair brushes your cheek when he shifts. The way you can feel the weight of him, trusting, unguarded.

You should say something—acknowledge it, maybe even tease him like Derek would—but your throat feels tight. Instead, you sit perfectly still, let him rest, let him take what he needs from you.

Across the room, Rossi is watching. He doesn’t say a word, just gives you a knowing look, an almost smirk, before turning back to his conversation with Hotch.

You swallow hard, your mind racing with thoughts you don’t have time to entertain. Not right now. Not with a case on the line.

Spencer exhales again, a deep, exhausted sound. Without thinking, you lift your hand and gently brush it over his arm, a quiet reassurance. He hums in response—barely audible, but enough to let you know he appreciates it.

And you?

You pretend your pulse isn’t hammering; pretend this is just like every other time.

Even though, for some reason, it doesn’t feel that way anymore.

—

The room is already cold and sterile, the air thick with the lingering scent of antiseptic and something darker, something that clings to the walls of places like these—death, decay, the remnants of lives cut short. The mortuary is dimly lit, the fluorescent bulbs casting a bluish hue over the metal slabs, the bodies covered with crisp white sheets.

Spencer and Emily step inside, the door clicking shut behind them, sealing them away from the world of the living for just a little while.

Emily exhales, rubbing her hands together despite the temperature-controlled environment. “I don’t know what Hotch thinks we’re going to find that we didn’t already see,” she murmurs, but there’s no real complaint in her tone—just exhaustion.

Spencer doesn’t answer right away. He’s already moving, scanning the room with sharp, restless eyes. He doesn’t like being back here. Too quiet, too still. Too much time to think. And he’s already spent the morning overstimulated, barely hanging onto himself. If it weren’t for you—your presence, your steadying warmth—he might have lost his grip entirely.

But you’re not here now.

Emily watches him for a moment, sees the way his fingers twitch slightly, how he pushes his hair back only to drop his hand to his wrist, rolling the familiar hair tie between his fingers. A grounding mechanism. She’d seen him do it before.

“Spencer,” she calls gently.

He blinks and looks at her.

“You okay?”

He hesitates, then nods.

Back in the SUV, Emily watches Spencer out of the corner of her eye as he flips through the case file, his knee bouncing slightly, his fingers twitching against the edge of the folder. He’s rattling off statistics about the likelihood of unsub behavior escalating post-mortem examinations, but there’s a certain absentmindedness to the way he’s speaking—like he’s not entirely here.

And Emily Prentiss? She’s no fool.

So, as she turns onto the road leading toward the mortuary, she decides to go for it.

“I wasn’t going to say anything,” she starts, keeping her tone casual. “In fact, I haven’t for the past few years.” She glances at him and watches as his fingers tighten slightly on the folder. “But today felt different. Are you sure you’re alright?”

Spencer stills, his knee stopping mid-bounce before he forces it back down. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Emily snorts. “Oh, come on. You can’t seriously expect me to believe that.”

Spencer purses his lips, shifting in his seat like he’s trying to physically move away from this conversation. “We have more important things to focus on right now.”

“Uh-huh,” Emily hums. “And yet, back at the station, you looked about one deep sigh away from crawling into her lap.”

Spencer stiffens. “That’s an exaggeration.”

Emily shrugs, smirking slightly. “Is it? Because from where I was standing, you were practically molded to her side.”

Spencer stays silent, glaring down at the folder like it’s personally offended him.

Emily softens, tilting her head. “Look, I’m not teasing you. I’m just asking—are you okay? Because I’ve seen you cling to her before when things get overwhelming, but today… it was different.” She hesitates. “You were different. She was different.”

Spencer swallows, pressing his lips together. He could brush it off. He could easily throw out some logical, cold dismissal. I was overstimulated, and she provided a familiar presence. There is nothing unusual about that, but the problem is, it is unusual.

Because for the first time, he noticed it.

Noticed how natural it felt, how good it felt, to be pressed against you. Noticed the way your touch lingered, how your fingers brushed his arm with a softness that made his skin buzz. Noticed how he felt safe, not just because you were familiar, but because he wanted to be close to you. Because he liked it.

And that? That realization is unraveling something in him he isn’t sure he’s ready for.

“I—” He hesitates, scrubbing a hand over his face. “I don’t know.”

Emily watches him for a moment before nodding, letting the conversation settle for a few beats before she speaks again.

“You know,” she says, keeping her tone light. “You could always ask her.”

Spencer’s head snaps toward her, eyes wide, panicked. “Ask her what?”

Emily grins, eyes twinkling as she pulls into the mortuary parking lot.

“Oh, you know. On a date.”

Spencer makes a strangled noise of protest, but Emily is already unbuckling her seatbelt, pretending she doesn’t hear it.

She lets him stew in his thoughts and sit there with that panicked expression because honestly?

He needs to figure it out for himself.

—

Tuesday nights were for Star Trek, and Friday nights were for pizza and movies. It had started as something casual, a way to unwind after long days at work, but over time, it became an unspoken rule—a part of your week as consistent as waking up in the morning.

Tuesday nights meant curling up on your couch, debating over which Star Trek series to watch that week. Spencer always had his preferences—he loved The Original Series for its groundbreaking storytelling and The Next Generation for its philosophical depth—but he never protested when you picked Voyager because he knew how much you liked Captain Janeway. You didn’t always pay attention to the episodes the way he did, but you loved listening to him ramble, watching his eyes light up as he dissected the scientific inaccuracies or argued about the moral dilemmas presented in each episode.

And then there was Friday night—pizza and movie night.

Unlike Star Trek night, where Spencer usually held the reins, movie night was a battle. You had vastly different tastes—Spencer leaned toward old classics, noir films, and things with intricate plots that required full intellectual engagement. On the other hand, you sometimes just wanted to watch an over-the-top action flick, something fun and ridiculous.

“I don’t understand why we can’t watch Casablanca,” Spencer had complained one Friday, frowning at your choice of Die Hard.

“Because Casablanca is depressing, and I just want to watch Bruce Willis blow things up,” you’d argued, plopping onto the couch.

Spencer had grumbled but ultimately stayed, reluctantly eating his pizza while you enjoyed Die Hard a little too much.

But despite the friendly bickering, you both always showed up for each other. No matter how draining the week was or how heavy the cases got, Tuesday and Friday nights were yours. If one of you was too tired, the other brought food. If Spencer needed to visit his mom, he’d make you promise not to watch Star Trek without him. If you had a bad day, he let you pick the movie without a single complaint (except for that one time you picked Twilight, which he still refuses to acknowledge).

For years, it was just routine, something comfortable, something easy.

The case had finally wrapped up late Wednesday afternoon, and while you should have been relieved—grateful that everything ended as cleanly as possible—you were distracted. Off-kilter. Your mind wasn’t on the debriefing, the flight back to Quantico, or even the pile of paperwork waiting for you tomorrow.

No, your mind was stuck on him.

Spencer.

More specifically, the way you couldn’t seem to shake the lingering warmth of his body from when he had leaned against you, or the quiet, vulnerable way he had sighed into your shoulder, or the way Rossi’s words had wormed their way into your brain and stuck.

"You keep telling yourself that, kid. But one of these days, you’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time."

Damn him.

You were usually so good at compartmentalizing, at keeping your feelings neatly boxed up and shoved into the farthest corner of your mind where they couldn’t betray you. But now? Now, every little thing Spencer did had you spiraling.

Like right now.

Friday afternoon rolls around, and you’re already on edge.

When Spencer casually walks up to your desk, his messenger bag is slung over his shoulder, and his hands are tucked into his pockets, you already know you’re in trouble.

“Hey,” he says, tilting his head slightly. “We’re still on for tonight, right?”

You blink at him.

Wait. What?

Is he confirming plans? He hasn’t done that since the first month you started doing this—since he was still unsure if the ritual was set in stone. But now, after all this time, he’s asking?

Your heart starts hammering, palms go clammy.

“Yeah—yes,” you blurt out, nodding a little too fast. “Of course. Why wouldn’t we?”

Spencer watches you carefully, clearly picking up on something being off. His brow furrows slightly, and he studies you with that damn profiler gaze, the one that makes you feel like he’s reading every single thought you’re desperately trying to bury.

“You okay?” he asks slowly.

You force a laugh. It comes out weird. “Yeah! Why wouldn’t I be?”

His frown deepens.

Okay. You need to fix this before you combust.

You grab your phone off your desk and clear your throat. “So! What are we watching tonight?” you ask, trying to force the conversation forward before you completely unravel.

Spencer tilts his head slightly, still watching you with suspicion, but he lets it go.

“For our movie night? Or are you asking if we’re switching to a Star Trek episode lineup for some reason?”

You roll your eyes, grateful for the distraction. “Movie night, obviously.”

He hums, his lips quirking slightly. “I figured it was my turn to pick.”

You groan dramatically. “Ugh. If this is another silent foreign film that you claim is ‘captivating,’ I’m kicking you out before the pizza even gets here.”

Spencer smirks. “It’s not silent.”

You narrow your eyes. “But it is foreign.”

Spencer just shrugs.

You groan again, shaking your head. “Fine. But if I fall asleep, I’m blaming you.”

He grins, and for a moment, just a moment, everything feels normal again.

Except it’s not.

Because now you’re noticing everything. The way he’s smiling at you, like he genuinely likes looking at you. The way he’s still standing a little too close, the scent of cologne you’ve never noticed mixing with the faint smell of old books and coffee. Your heart is pounding, not from panic anymore but from something else.

And Rossi’s voice echoes in your head—You’re going to wake up and realize you’ve been standing in your own way this whole time.

You swallow hard, forcing yourself to push the thought away.

Spencer is still looking at you, waiting, expectant.

You clear your throat. “So… my place at seven?”

He nods. “Your place at seven.”

And with that, he walks away, leaving you gripping your desk, trying to convince yourself that your entire world hasn’t just shifted on its axis.

—

The knock at the door makes your stomach drop.

You weren’t expecting it. Not from him.

Spencer never knocks. Not anymore. Not when he’s been coming here for years, slipping inside without hesitation, using the key you gave him so long ago that neither of you even remembers when it stopped being your apartment and started feeling like his, too.

But tonight, he knocks.

And for a moment, you just stare at the door, pulse pounding in your ears, a strange, unsettling panic twisting in your chest.

Why?

Why would he knock?

Did something happen? Did you do something? Did he?

You scramble to your feet, nearly tripping over the corner of the rug in your rush to reach the door. Your hand hovers over the doorknob for half a second too long before you finally pull it open.

And there he is.

Standing in the dim glow of the hallway light, looking just as nervous as you feel.

He’s holding the pizza in both hands, gripping the box like it’s the only thing anchoring him. His lips are parted slightly as if he’s mid-thought, mid-explanation for why he’s standing here like a stranger instead of walking in like he always does.

“Hey,” he says, and his voice is careful, deliberate. Like he’s testing the temperature of the air between you.

You swallow. “Why’d you knock?”

Spencer shifts, his fingers flexing against the cardboard. “I—” He exhales sharply, eyes flickering down for a moment before meeting yours again. “I wasn’t sure if I should just—if you wanted me to just come in.”

Your stomach twists. “You always just come in.”

“I know,” he says quickly. “I just—” He stops, swallows, tries again. Spencer takes a breath, shifting his grip on the pizza box. “Can I come in?”

Your fingers tighten slightly around the doorknob as you nod and step aside.

The warm glow of your living room wraps around Spencer like a familiar embrace. The scent of old books and candle wax lingers in the air, mingling with the rich aroma of fresh pizza. He’s holding the box carefully as if it were fragile or important. His fingers clutch the edges a little too tightly.

Something is different.

You feel it the moment he walks through the door, the way he hesitates on the threshold before closing it behind him. His usual easy presence is replaced with something unsure, something heavy that neither of you can quite name.

It’s never been awkward before.

But tonight, it is.

Maybe it’s the way he swallows before speaking or the way you feel hyper-aware of the space between you—space that’s usually nonexistent when you’re tangled up on the couch, watching whatever movie you finally agreed on after bickering for twenty minutes.

Maybe it’s the way his fingers brush against his wrist absentmindedly, rolling the hair tie between them, a habit you know means he’s feeling too much.

Or maybe, just maybe, it’s because something unspoken has been hanging in the air between you for a while now, something neither of you have dared to name.

Spencer sits down beside you, a little closer than usual but still not quite enough. His knee brushes against yours, and you don’t pull away. Neither does he.

“Movie?” you ask, trying to sound normal. Trying to push through the tension.

Spencer nods, but he doesn’t reach for the remote. Instead, he glances at you, searching your face, lips parting slightly like he wants to say something.

And for the first time in all the years of Friday pizza-and-movie nights, for the first time in all the comfortable silences and easy laughter, you think—

He might actually say what you’re both thinking.

But when Spencer finally does speak, it’s not what you expect. You blink at him, your brain short-circuiting.

"Do you want to watch 10 Things I Hate About You?"

It takes you a second to process the words because that is not what you were expecting.

For a moment, your grip tightens on the edge of the couch, your knuckles going white, and your heart still hammering from the sheer weight of what you thought he was about to say.

“What?” you finally spit out, voice higher than you’d like.

Spencer shifts awkwardly in his seat, clearing his throat as if he’s just realized how strange the moment is. “It’s… isn’t it your favorite rom-com?”

You stare at him. “Yeah… but I didn’t think you liked it.”

“I don’t dislike it,” he hedges, suddenly looking everywhere except at you. “And, statistically speaking, if we’re ranking romantic comedies based on their adherence to Shakespearean influence, it’s arguably one of the better adaptations of Taming of the Shrew—”

You cut him off with a squint. “You’re rambling.”

He presses his lips together, a nervous habit, his fingers twitching slightly. “Right. Sorry.”

The air between you feels charged, like an unsaid truth is pressing against the walls, threatening to break them down. But instead of confronting it and saying whatever it is that’s clearly sitting on the tip of his tongue, Spencer is talking about rom-coms.

You cross your arms, tilting your head. “Okay, but… why? Why that movie? Why now?”

His eyes flicker up to yours then, just for a second, and there’s something raw, vulnerable, and uncertain.

And then, before you can decipher it, he shrugs. “I just thought you’d like it.”

Your heart clenches painfully because God, he’s so Spencer. Always thinking of you, noticing the smallest details, and looking out for you even when you don’t expect it.

And yet… there’s still something unspoken lingering between you, something simmering beneath the surface, something that almost came out before he took a sharp left turn into the world of 10 Things I Hate About You.

“Do you want to watch?” Spencer asks again in that vulnerable tone, lifting the movie case from his bag.

You exhale, rubbing your hands on your pants to wipe off the nervous sweat. “Yeah,” you sigh.

Spencer nods, but it’s almost hesitant, almost like he wasn’t sure you’d say yes. He lingers for a second with the 10 Things I Hate About You DVD case in his hands, gripping it just as tightly as he had the pizza box moments ago.

You swallow, rubbing your palms against your pants again before reaching for the remote. “Uh, you can put it in.”

He moves toward the DVD player slowly, methodically, like he’s focusing on the action so he doesn’t have to focus on you. You watch him as he kneels down, sliding the disc into the tray, his fingers steady even though you know he isn’t.

The air between you is thick with something unspoken, a weight pressing on both of you, but neither of you acknowledges it. Instead, you wait as the movie boots up, the familiar menu music filling the quiet space between you.

Spencer hesitates before sitting, but it’s closer than usual when he does.

Not overly close—not close enough to make it obvious—but close enough that you can feel the heat of his body, close enough that his knee brushes yours again.

You pretend not to notice.

He pretends not to, either.

The movie starts, and for the first time, neither of you is watching it.

You’re too aware of him—the way he shifts slightly when you do, his fingers twitch against his knee like he’s trying not to reach out, and the way his breath catches ever so slightly when your arm brushes his.

Spencer doesn’t usually do this. He’s tactile when he’s overwhelmed, yes, but this? This is different. This is hesitation; this is awareness; this is something tiptoeing dangerously close to the edge of something neither of you has dared to touch before.

And you don’t know what to do with that.

So you try to focus on the movie, try to push through the nervous energy coiling in your stomach.

But then—

Then Spencer shifts, leans back against the couch, exhales softly—

And his arm drops, just slightly, around your shoulders.

Your heart stops.

You stare at the screen, unblinking, unsure if he even realizes what he’s done.

But he doesn’t move.

And neither do you.

The room feels different now. Warmer, heavier, charged with something neither of you have spoken aloud. You can’t tell if it’s the candlelight flickering in the dim space or if it’s just him, just this, whatever this is, settling around you like a second skin.

Spencer’s arm—his arm—is resting along the back of the couch, not quite on you, but close enough that you can feel its weight, close enough that if you shifted even the slightest bit, it would be.

You try to focus on the movie. Try to act like nothing’s changed.

But your body betrays you.

Your shoulders stiffen at first, instinctively, not because you don’t want this—God, you do—but because you don’t understand it. Because Spencer Reid does not do things like this. He does not reach out in this way, not unless he’s overwhelmed, and even then, it’s different. This is intentional, isn’t it?

Isn’t it?

You inhale slowly, carefully, keeping your eyes trained on the screen as Kat Stratford delivers another sharp-witted insult. But you’re not really listening. You’re waiting. Waiting for Spencer to shift, realize what he’s done, pull back, laugh nervously, and pretend like nothing happened.

Except—

He doesn’t.

If anything, he seems more relaxed than before. His breathing is even, his body settling into the couch like he belongs there. Like you belong there.

And then, before you can stop yourself before you can overthink it like you always do, you shift. Just slightly. Just enough that your shoulder leans into his arm.

The movement is so small and insignificant that if it were anyone else, they wouldn’t notice. But this is Spencer. And Spencer notices everything.

You hear the sharp inhale of breath and feel the way his body tenses just for a moment—just long enough to make your pulse hammer against your ribs—before he exhales slowly, deliberately.

And then—

Then his fingers brush against your shoulder.

A whisper of a touch, hesitant, almost like he’s waiting for you to pull away.

But you don’t.

You can’t.

So, he stays.

And for the rest of the movie, neither of you moves. Neither of you speak.

But everything, everything, has changed.

The credits roll. The music swells softly through the speakers. The dim glow of the screencasts flickering shadows across the room, but neither of you move.

Not even a little.

Your body is still pressed into his side, your shoulder tucked against him, his arm draped so loosely yet so deliberately around you that you can’t tell if it’s keeping you close or if it’s keeping him grounded.

Maybe both.

Maybe that’s what this has always been.

You don’t know how long you sit there, frozen in the moment. You don’t know if he’s thinking the same thing, if he’s waiting for you to speak, to move, to acknowledge that something unspoken has settled between you like a weighted silence.

But then—

“Y/N,” Spencer murmurs.

Just your name.

Soft. Almost careful.

You inhale sharply, blinking yourself back into the moment. Your head turns toward him slowly, cautiously, like moving too fast might shatter whatever fragile balance is hanging between you.

And then—

Spencer shocks you.

Because the second your eyes meet his, the moment your lips part in silent question—he leans in.

And he kisses you.

It’s not hesitant.

It’s not unsure.

It’s not like the Spencer Reid you thought you knew—the one who second-guesses, who overthinks, who analyzes every possibility before making a move.

No.

This is something else entirely.

This is Spencer moving without logic, without calculation, without fear.

This is Spencer wanting.

And for a split second, your brain short-circuits, unable to process what’s happening or understand how the man who had just spent two hours analyzing 10 Things I Hate About You is now kissing you like he means it.

But then—

Then you kiss him back.

And it’s over.

Whatever line had existed between you—whatever barrier had kept you from stepping over the edge—it's gone.

Spencer exhales against your lips like he’s been holding his breath for years. His fingers tighten against your shoulder, just slightly, pulling you in closer, pressing against you like he’s terrified you’ll disappear if he lets go.

But you’re not going anywhere.

Not now.

Not after this.

—

Dating Spencer is like stepping into something timeless, warm, and constant. It’s not rushed or overwhelming. It’s not dramatic or chaotic. It’s just Spencer. And that, in itself, is everything.

He doesn’t love convention. He doesn’t do big grand gestures unless they mean something. But he does the little things, the things that matter. The things that show how deeply and irrevocably he feels for you.

Like reading to you before bed.

It starts without much thought, just a quiet habit that becomes part of your nights. You never ask him to do it, and he never makes a point of it, but it happens—night after night, in the soft, dark quiet of your bedroom when the world slows, and nothing exists but the warmth of his arms and the soothing rhythm of his voice.

Some nights, it’s The Picture of Dorian Gray or a few pages from Pride and Prejudice. Other nights, it’s something entirely different—a passage about an old poet, a historical retelling of an artist’s life, something obscure and worn, a book he’s read a hundred times before. It doesn’t matter. You don’t even remember the contents most nights.

What you remember is the sound of Spencer’s voice, the way it lulls you into a hazy, comfortable state within minutes. The way his fingers draw lazy circles on your arm as he reads, absentmindedly tracing patterns like he can’t not be touching you. The way his lips brush the top of your head in soft, feather-light kisses like he’s saying goodnight without ever actually stopping the words on the page.

You never make it past a few minutes.

That’s how long it takes for his voice to pull you under, for the warmth of his chest to turn into a lullaby, for his steady breathing and gentle presence to quiet every thought in your mind.

And Spencer?

Spencer never minds.

Even when you fall asleep on him mid-sentence, even when his voice trails off and he realizes you’re gone, lost to dreams, he just smiles to himself, presses one last kiss to your temple, and quietly closes the book.

Because he loves this.

Loves you.

Even if he hasn’t said it yet.

—

You knew Spencer was good with kids—he had an innate gentleness, a patience that most adults didn’t possess. You had seen him with Jack before, seen the way he could calm a crying toddler with a few soft words and a fascinating fact about dinosaurs. But this? Watching him take care of a baby?

This is a whole different level.

JJ and Will had been desperate for a night out—just a few hours, nothing crazy—and with Garcia tied up at some tech conference, JJ hesitantly asked you and Spencer to watch Henry. She had barely finished asking before Spencer nodded, assuring her that he had plenty of experience with child development and cognitive growth.

Now, an hour into babysitting, you sit on the couch in quiet awe as Spencer moves around the living room, cradling Henry against his chest like it’s the most natural thing in the world.

"Statistically speaking, infants exposed to language early on are more likely to develop higher literacy skills in adolescence," Spencer muses softly, bouncing Henry gently in his arms as the baby babbles against his sweater. "So even though you might not understand this now, Henry, I think you'd really enjoy learning about the Fibonacci sequence when you’re older."

You stare, biting your lip to contain the ridiculous grin threatening to take over your face. "Spencer, are you seriously lecturing a one-year-old on mathematical sequences?"

Spencer glances at you, unfazed. "He seems interested."

Henry lets out a delighted squeal, gripping a fistful of Spencer’s cardigan and yanking with surprising strength.

"Ah—Henry, no, that's my—" Spencer stops mid-sentence as Henry starts giggling, his tiny fingers still tangled in the fabric. Instead of pulling away, Spencer just sighs in resignation, adjusting his hold so Henry can comfortably rest his cheek against his shoulder.

And oh, no.

Your heart is gone.

Your ovaries? Destroyed.

Because Spencer—sweet, brilliant, slightly awkward Spencer—is standing there in JJ’s living room, holding a baby like he was made for it, rubbing gentle circles on Henry’s back as he hums absentmindedly.

And you are not okay.

"You’re good at this," you murmur before you can stop yourself, watching how he instinctively shifts to sway Henry slightly, lulling him between sleep and contentment.

Spencer shrugs, but there’s a soft pink dusting his cheeks. "It’s just… knowing how to respond to their needs. Babies need security and reassurance. If they feel safe, they thrive." He glances at you then, his voice quieter. "It's not complicated."

But it is.

Because suddenly, your brain is not thinking about just this night. It’s not just thinking about babysitting Henry. It’s thinking about Spencer as a father, Spencer with his own baby in his arms, rocking them just like this, whispering facts to lull them to sleep, pressing soft kisses to their tiny forehead.

And the thought wrecks you.

JJ has no idea what she’s done by asking you to babysit.

Because now?

Now, you are painfully aware that Spencer Reid would be the best dad in the world.

And you really need to go splash cold water on your face before you say something insane.

The drive is quiet at first, a comfortable kind of silence, filled only with the hum of the engine and the faint rustling of Spencer shifting beside you. The weight of the night still lingers, the softness of it, the warmth—Spencer holding Henry, the easy way he’d cared for him, the way it had done things to you that you weren’t entirely sure you were ready to name yet.

"Are you dropping me off," Spencer asks suddenly, his voice cutting through the stillness, "or am I coming over?"

Your hands tighten slightly on the steering wheel.

The question is simple. Straightforward. But there’s something deeper beneath it, something unspoken. Because this isn’t the first time Spencer has stayed over. But tonight, with the way you’re feeling, with the way you want him—really want him—the meaning feels different.

Your pulse picks up.

You don’t answer right away, not because you don’t know what you want, but because you do.

Because you want him to come over. Because you want him in your bed for more than just resting. Because you’ve wanted it for a while now, but neither of you have crossed that line yet.

And suddenly, it feels like Spencer knows exactly what you’re thinking.

He’s watching you, quiet, observant, his fingers resting lightly against his knee as he waits for your response. He doesn’t push, doesn’t pry—he just waits.

You swallow, exhaling slowly before finally speaking. "Come over."

Spencer doesn’t say anything at first. But when you glance at him out of the corner of your eye, his lips are pressed together, his fingers twitching slightly—nervous energy, anticipation, something else.

"Okay," he says finally, voice quiet but firm.

And that’s all.

You don’t talk for the rest of the drive.

But you feel everything.

The way his hand rests between you is so close to yours but not quite touching. The way your breaths sync up is slow but uneven, charged with something you both know is coming.

When you finally pull into your parking spot, turn off the car, and steal one last glance at him, Spencer doesn’t hesitate.

He just unbuckles his seatbelt, pushes open the door, and follows you inside.

Spencer follows without hesitation but doesn’t move past the doorway immediately. He lingers, standing just inside your apartment, watching as you set your keys down on the counter, as you exhale slowly, as you try to steady yourself against the weight of what this night is turning into.

You turn back to him then, and the sight of him standing there—hands tucked into his pockets, shifting slightly on his feet, looking at you like he’s trying so hard to figure out what happens next—makes your stomach flip.

He’s waiting for you.

Waiting for permission.

You take a step forward, closing some of the space between you. Spencer watches you carefully, his breath hitching just slightly, his fingers twitching where they rest at his sides.

Spencer nods. Swallows. Then, in a voice barely above a whisper, he asks, “Are we just sleeping?”

The question hangs between you, thick with implication, and that’s when it happens—the shift from nervous anticipation to something else.

You step closer again, close enough that you can feel the warmth radiating from his body, close enough that if either of you moved just slightly, you’d be touching.

And then, softly, hesitantly, you reach for his wrist, fingers brushing against the skin just above the hair tie he still wears, the one you gave him so long ago.

“I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “Do you want to just sleep?”

Spencer’s breath catches. His eyes flicker to your lips, then back up again.

“No,” he murmurs. “Not really.”

And that’s all it takes.

Because suddenly, you’re kissing him.

Or maybe he kisses you—you don’t know who moves first, don’t care, because all that matters is the way his hands are suddenly on your waist, pulling you closer, the way his lips part against yours, slow and deep and wanting.

It’s different from the previous kisses you have shared. And as his hands slide up your back, as you press yourself into him like you’ve been waiting forever for this, as he exhales sharply against your mouth because he’s finally getting to have you—

You know neither of you will be getting much sleep tonight.

The first time you and Spencer had sex was nothing short of mind-blowing—at least for him.

You hadn’t known just how little experience he had until later when he mumbled something against your skin about only having done this once before, his voice laced with disbelief and something like awe.

But it wouldn't have changed anything even if you had known beforehand. It had started so slow, like neither of you wanted to rush like you were both trying to memorize each other in ways you hadn’t been able to before.

Spencer had been nervous at first—not clumsy, not hesitant in a way that made you think he didn’t want this, but careful, intentional, like he wanted to make sure he was doing everything right. Like he was terrified of messing up, of not being enough.

But God, was he more than enough.

Because once he got past the nerves, once he stopped thinking and started feeling—

It was everything.

He touched you like he was discovering something new like he was learning you in real time. His fingers mapped the soft curves of your body, memorizing the way your breath hitched when he kissed your neck and how you sighed when his hands gripped your waist.

And when you guided him, when you whispered what you liked against his lips when you told him exactly how to move—

That was when he really fell apart.

Because Spencer thrives on knowledge, learning, on understanding. And now, he was learning you—learning what made you shiver, what made you moan, what made you clutch at his shoulders and gasp his name in a way that sent a shudder through him so deep he thought he might break apart completely.

By the time you were actually together, when he finally slid inside you with a deep, shaky moan, his hands gripping your hips like you were the only thing keeping him grounded—he knew.

He knew he was ruined for anything else.

Because nothing—not the one experience he had before, not the books he had read, not the theories or statistics—could have ever prepared him for this.

For you.

And when he came undone, his forehead pressed against yours, his breath warm and ragged, your name tumbling from his lips like a prayer—

It was the closest thing to heaven he had ever known.

You pulled Spencer on top of you without hesitation, letting his exhausted body flop onto yours, his full weight pressing you into the mattress in the best possible way. He didn’t resist or try to roll away or give you space—he just let himself be and melt into you like he belonged there.

You traced slow, lazy shapes on his bare, sweat-slicked back, feeling the way his breathing gradually evened out, the rise and fall of his chest pressing against yours in a steady rhythm. His damp curls tickled your skin where his face was buried against your neck, but you didn’t dare move. You liked having him close like this.

Then you felt it—Spencer taking a deep breath like he was about to say something important.

His voice was muffled, soft, still laced with lingering wonder as he exhaled against your skin.

“Did… was that good for you?”

You smiled at the ceiling, your fingers still tracing mindless patterns along his spine. He was too cute. Too him.

“It was amazing, Spencer.”

He didn’t respond immediately, but you felt him tense slightly, his arms tightening around your waist as he let out a small, almost sheepish exhale.

“I’m sorry it was over so quickly.”

You laughed, tilting your head so you could press a soft kiss to the crown of his head. “Spencer, you have nothing to apologize for.”

He huffed, shifting slightly so his face was visible again, his flushed cheeks still pressed against your skin. “But I—”

“Nope.” You cut him off before he could finish whatever self-deprecating thought was about to leave his mouth. “I loved it. And besides…” You trailed your fingers down his spine, feeling the shiver it sent through him. “Now that the nerves are out of the way, we’ve got all night to take our time.”

Spencer froze for half a second before lifting his head just enough to look at you properly, his eyes wide, dark, needy.

“All night?” he repeated, voice barely above a whisper.

You smirked, fingers tightening ever so slightly on his back. “Mmmhmm.”

And just like that—

Spencer wasn’t exhausted anymore.

The night stretched long and slow, turning into early morning, and in those quiet, intimate hours, you discovered things—things that made you grin, things that made Spencer writhe, things that neither of you had ever put words to before but suddenly felt so obvious now.

Like hickeys.

Spencer really liked hickeys.

You hadn’t meant to leave one, not at first. But the moment your lips latched onto the sensitive skin of his neck, the second your teeth scraped lightly against his pulse point, Spencer let out a sound that was almost embarrassing—a sharp, gasping whine that had his fingers digging into your waist, his hips bucking up against you without thought.

And just like that, you knew.

“You like that?” you murmured against his skin, already smirking, already marking another spot just below his jaw.

Spencer shivered violently, his breath stuttering, his grip on you tightening. “I—” He cut himself off with a choked noise, arching into you again.

Yeah. He definitely liked it.

And then there was the other discovery that made your entire night.

Spencer was a certified bottom.

He liked giving up control, liked you taking the lead, liked it when you moved on top of him, guiding him, making him fall apart underneath you.

And oh, he thrived in it.

Especially when your hands threaded into his hair, whispered things to him, and praised him in that sweet, teasing tone that made him whimper.

And God, the way his hands roamed when you were on top—

Which led to the third discovery of the night.

Spencer was a tits guy.

Sure, he loved all of you—he worshipped every inch of you with those big, eager hands, his lips, his tongue, taking his time, savoring you like he had all the time in the world.

But your boobs?

Those really got him going.

Maybe it was because of the angle, the way they bounced when you moved, or maybe it was the way they fit so perfectly in his hands, how he could squeeze, cup, and knead them just the way he liked.

Maybe it was the fact that he could bury his face in them, groaning as he nuzzled into your chest, leaving open-mouthed kisses against your skin, mumbling about how perfect you were, how soft, how he never wanted to stop.

And when you realized?

When you teased him about it?

He turned a deep shade of red, sputtering something about biological instincts and aesthetic appeal, but the second you rolled your hips and dragged his hands back to your chest, his words died completely.

“Oh my God,” he groaned, his head thudding back against the pillow, his fingers squeezing you almost desperately.

And yeah—

You really liked that discovery, too.

—

Spencer had barely stepped into the bullpen when Derek’s booming voice rang through the air like a damn foghorn.

"Pretty boy!"

Spencer flinched. He knew that tone. That taunting, giddy, Derek-is-about-to-ruin-your-life tone.

And then—before Spencer could so much as blink—Derek was grinning at him, full teeth, eyes sparkling with absolute mischief as he pointed directly at Spencer’s neck.

“Oh no,” Spencer mumbled under his breath, instinctively reaching up as if he could somehow erase the evidence.

But it was too late. Because Derek had seen it. The hickey.

The hickey.

The one you had left on him Saturday night. Or was it Sunday morning? Honestly, it didn’t even matter—what mattered was that he had forgotten to cover it up, and now? Now, Derek was never going to let him live this down.

“Damn, kid,” Derek laughed, sauntering over with the confidence of a man who lived for this kind of teasing. “So you are gettin’ some.”

Spencer groaned, his entire face going up in flames. “Derek—”

“Nah, nah, don’t even try to deny it,” Derek interrupted, shaking his head like he couldn’t believe what he was seeing. “That is a grade-A hickey, man. I’m talkin’ official, stamped, certified ‘this man is gettin’ wrecked’ level.”

“Derek, please,” Spencer hissed, glancing around desperately as if he could somehow stop this from escalating.

Too bad the damage was already done. Because JJ and Penelope were already staring. And then laughing. Loudly.

“Oh my God,” Penelope gasped, practically shrieking with delight. “Spencer! Look at you! Our boy is all grown up and getting marked up like a romance novel protagonist!”

“Okay, stop,” Spencer pleaded, feeling absolutely doomed.

JJ just smirked, sipping her coffee like this was the best entertainment she’d had in weeks. “So, how was your weekend?”

Spencer exhaled sharply, adjusting his bag on his shoulder and making a beeline for his desk, determined to escape. “I hate all of you.”

Derek just grinned, following after him with his arms crossed. “Nah, Pretty Boy, you love us. Just not as much as you love your girl—who, by the way, did some damage on you, man. She got territorial.”

Spencer slammed his forehead onto his desk with a loud thud. JJ and Penelope cackled. Derek patted him on the back like he had just won something. And Spencer?

Spencer knew damn well that this was never going away.

—

Spencer was always composed. Always Spencer. Polite, intelligent, articulate. The type of man who didn’t act impulsively, who thought through everything before making a move.

Except, apparently, when it came to you.

Because when it came to you, Spencer had no self-control.

And nowhere was that more apparent than tonight—right now—when he had you pressed up against the bar in the middle of a crowded room, his lips hot against your neck, his hands resting just a little too low on your waist, and his very obvious boner grinding against your ass.

This was not the Spencer the team knew. This was not the awkward, hesitant genius who stumbled over his words and overanalyzed his every move.

No, this Spencer was different.

This Spencer wanted you, and he didn’t care who saw.

This Spencer also happened to be a few glasses of champagne deep in his birthday celebration with the team.

“Spencer,” you hissed, gripping the edge of the bar for support as another firm roll of his hips had heat coiling low in your stomach.

He hummed against your neck, his lips still moving, still marking you in the same way he had been since he discovered how much he loved leaving hickeys on you.

“Hmm?” he murmured, voice low, dragging his tongue lightly over the fresh mark before pressing an open-mouthed kiss against it.

Your grip tightened on the bar. “We’re in public,” you reminded him, but your voice was breathy, weak, barely convincing.

Spencer chuckled—actually chuckled—against your skin, his fingers flexing against your hips. “And?”

And?

And?

You blinked, stunned by his sheer audacity, by the fact that Spencer Reid was grinding up against you in a public bar like he had every right to.

Like he owned you.

And maybe he did.

You hated to stop him. God, you hated it.

But Spencer was too drunk.

It wasn’t that he was wasted—Spencer didn’t drink often, and when he did, he rarely overindulged—but tonight, between rounds of celebratory drinks with the team and the way he had relaxed into your presence, he was just tipsy enough that his usual inhibitions were gone.

And normally, you wouldn’t mind. Normally, you’d love seeing him like this, out of his shell, more bold in his affections. But Spencer was intoxicated, and you were sober, and you refused—refused—to take advantage of that. 

So, with a deep breath, you gently pried his hands off your waist, turning around to face him fully.

“Spencer,” you murmured, voice soft but firm.

He blinked, slow and dazed, his lips swollen from where he had been so intent on marking you up. “Huh?”

You cupped his face, thumbs brushing against his flushed cheeks. “We need to get you home, okay?”

His brows furrowed. “But—”

“No ‘buts,’” you interrupted, kissing his cheek quickly before pulling away completely. “Come on, before Derek starts making bets about whether you’ll take shots with him.”

Spencer groaned, looking devastated—like a scolded puppy who had just been denied his favorite treat. His hands flexed at his sides like he wanted to pull you back, but even in his inebriated state, he listened.

With one last longing look at you, he sighed. “Fine.”

You smiled, taking his hand and leading him back to the group. The second you announced, “I’m taking Spencer home,” a chorus of hoots and hollers erupted from your friends.

Derek practically howled with laughter. “Damn, Pretty Boy, she’s gotta put you to bed already?”

“I hate all of you,” Spencer grumbled as Penelope cackled.

JJ smirked into her drink. “Don’t forget to hydrate him.”

“Oh, I will,” you assured her, rolling your eyes as you steered Spencer toward the door.

After a few more teasing remarks and one last dramatic wolf whistle from Derek, you managed to load Spencer into the passenger seat of your car.

As soon as you pulled out of the parking lot, you reached for the stereo and turned on classical music—something calming that would hopefully settle the restless energy still buzzing under Spencer’s skin.

And sure enough, within minutes, he was already melting into the seat, head lolling to the side as the soft notes of Debussy filled the quiet space.

You smiled to yourself, reaching over to squeeze his hand.

“Almost home, Spence,” you murmured.

He sighed deeply, squeezing back. “You’re the best,” he mumbled, voice slurred with exhaustion.

The rest of the night had been easy enough—getting Spencer home, guiding his sleepy, clingy self into bed, listening to him mumble drunken nonsense as you pulled the covers over him. He had curled around you the second you lay down beside him, burying his face in your neck, sighing deeply as if you were the cure to whatever hangover awaited him in the morning.

Before you had drifted off, you had set up a glass of water and some painkillers on his bedside table, making sure everything he needed would be right there when he woke up.

Now, in the golden light of morning, you were sitting up in bed, back against the headboard, reading while Spencer slowly resurfaced from his alcohol-induced slumber.

He stirred first, shifting slightly under the sheets, letting out a sleepy little grunt before blinking blearily up at you.

For a moment, he just stared.

His hair was a complete mess, curls sticking up in every direction, and his face was still warm and soft from sleep. His lips parted slightly, his eyes unfocused as he tried to piece together where he was, why he felt like this, and why the hell you looked so perfectly content beside him while he felt like his brain was swimming in molasses.

“…Morning,” he croaked, voice raw from sleep.

You glanced down at him, smiling over the top of your book. “Morning, baby.”

He blinked slowly, still processing. Then, realization dawned—the bar, the teasing, you dragging him home like an overgrown toddler.

He groaned, flopping onto his back and throwing an arm over his face. “I was drunk.”

You laughed softly, closing your book and setting it aside. “Yep.”

He peeked out from under his arm, his lips twitching slightly. “Did I…?”

“You were very affectionate in public,” you teased, shifting to face him. “Like, very affectionate.”

Spencer made a noise between a groan and a laugh, rubbing his face. “Derek’s never going to let me live this down, is he?”

“I didn’t let anybody see, Spence.”

He sighed dramatically before turning his head to look at you again, his expression softening. His eyes flickered to the bedside table, taking in the water and painkillers, the small gesture that made something warm and fond settle in his chest.

“You took care of me,” he murmured.

You rolled your eyes playfully. “Of course I did.”

Spencer didn’t say anything momentarily, just looking at you like he was trying to memorize you in the morning light. Then, without warning, he reached for you, pulling you down into his arms, burying his face in your shoulder.

“I love you,” he mumbled against your skin, voice still thick with sleep.

Your heart stopped.

Completely.

Frozen in time, in this moment, in him.

Spencer had said it. So casually, so effortlessly, like it had always been there, sitting just beneath the surface, waiting for the right moment to slip out. Like it wasn’t something earth-shattering, something that made your breath catch and your entire world tilt.

You barely breathed as you whispered, "You love me?"

You felt his lips curve slightly against your skin—soft, sleepy, so sure.

"I love you," he repeated, voice muffled but certain, like it wasn’t even a question in his mind. Like it never had been.

The warmth of his words settled over you, seeping into every inch of your skin, curling around your heart like the softest, safest thing you’d ever known.

Suddenly, you were moving, pulling back just enough to cup his face in your hands and tilt his head so that his eyes met yours—still drowsy, still heavy with sleep, but so incredibly full. You smiled, soft and disbelieving like you couldn’t believe you had gotten this lucky. Like you couldn’t believe he was yours.

"I love you, too."

Spencer blinked, like it was his turn to freeze like his still-sleepy brain was trying to process that you had said it back. Then he smiled—wide and beautiful, the kind of smile that made his dimples show, the kind of smile that made your chest ache in the best possible way.

And without another word, he kissed you.

Slow, deep, certain.

Like he had just decided—right here, right now—that he was never letting you go.

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

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[the-s1lly-corner]

Calling them pretty boy 3/3

PART 3 WOO YEAH

I. thINK this is all the male toons! If I've forgotten anyone let me know TToTT there's so many characters

Running in to add RUDIE I ALMOST FORGOT RUDIE IM SORRY DEER BOY

The girls are getting their own parts soon-- maybe not directly after this but I'll definitely try

Characters: shrimpo, razzle & dazzle, sprout, dandy, rudie

Notes: gn reader, toon reader, can be read as pre or post game, short post, admin may get razzle n dazzle mixed up bare with him, written on mobile. I think in the future I'll just give the mains their own post so the third part isn't long compared to the other 2

CWs: none

SHRIMPO

He kind of just stares at you for a second, audibly grumbling to himself as he stares right into your soul

...hes... always a hard one to read- you can't really tell if he likes it or not- you can see hid tail kind of. Tense up too

"IM HATE BEING PRETTY!" And he just. Storms off into a huff. Ignore the faint crack in his voice

(He's so tsundere coded/hj)

RAZZLE N DAZZLE

Razzle takes it in stride and brightens up over it... dazzle on the other hand may think you're teasing him until you insist you aren't- afterall you've never called them pretty boy before..!

Dazzle doesn't smile that often but you get one from him from the sudden comment, it's faint but it's still there. He kind of.. stares at the floor and thinks over your words

Razzle is going to adopt that name and will (lightheartedly) give you flack for not calling tjem that again

SPROUT

Oh you're so sweet...! Pretty boy isn't exactly his first choice but he's not going to shut you down, it's simply... different!

You're not too bad looking yourself, and he's going to let you know that! He's got a talent for turning things right back onto you casually

If you say it while he's piping he WILL mess up the frosting :(

DANDY

Takes it in stride, hardly shoes any surprise on his face when you call him pretty boy

Sly grin with a smile, oh you cheeky little..! Did you really think he was going to let you get away with this Scott free?

Oh nononono! You've opened the floodgates! You've given him an invitation to try to fluster you right back and trust me he's not going to pull any punches with his affectionate name calling

RUDIE

Nose? Glowing. Ears? Perked. Tail? Wagging. Ooooooh he loves it! Actually he loves every little name you give him, so it's not much of a surprise that he loves this one too!

Will call you pretty in return with no hesitation, in fact he makes it a point to call you pretty more often!

Definitely thinks about it all week, he's the type to kick his feet in the air in bed

[prettyflyforawhitelie]

Hi I love your work so far, do you think you could do headcannons for all the different characters of the main Hazbin Hotel cast when their lover comes to them injured? Like how they would treat you and then how they would deal with the person who harmed you. I would love to see this ahhhh 😫

Ahh of course! I love this, thanks for the request! I hope you like it!

Trope: Hazbin Hotel x Injured!reader

Characters: Alastor, Charlie, Vaggie, Angeldust, Husk, Sir Pentious, Lucifer

Warnings: Physical violence, mention of death, injured reader, blood.

author's note: hey guys! this is my first time doing one of these, and I'm still getting better, so forgive me if its a bit shabby. If you have any requests, feel free to send them in! I'm in a creative buzz rn lol. Enjoy!

🦌📻Alastor📻🦌:

The day that your attacker decides to hurt you is the day that they decide to die. Messing with the Radio Demon’s plaything is about the last thing you want to do. 

Alastor often sent his shadows to follow you into town when he couldnt be with you, so the second you were attacked, Alastor could sense that something was wrong. 

By the time his shadows had carried you back to the hotel, your attacker had already escaped, but luckily, his shadows saw everything.

When he rushed down to see you, he seemed rather indifferent at first. He carried you up to his room, immediately conjuring several healing ointments to heal you quickly.

He laid you in his bed, in which you almost immediately fell asleep.

He hears the whispers of his shadows, and gains all of the information he needs out of them. 

With a single snap of his finger, the issue was taken care of. Rumor has it that the screams of your attackers' seemingly “random” death could be heard about 3 rings down. 

While waiting for you to wake, Alastor conjures two steaming bowls of his mother’s jambalaya. Placing one on the side table next to you, he sits down next to your sleeping body and lightly grazes your head, singing soothing songs until you wake up.  

😈🗝️Charlie🗝️��:

Would of course be so very angry at whoever did this, but her first priority would be healing you up and making sure that you’re absolutely 100% okay and comfortable. 

Would set you up in her bed and assure that you have anything at all that would make you feel more comfortable. Tea? Yup. Ice pack? Already got it. Cuddles? Of course!

Would definitely let you cuddle with Razzle and Dazzle for as long as you needed.

She would try her best to talk to you and figure out what happened - to figure out who did this to you.

As you told her, she seemed surprisingly… calm? She simply thanked you for telling her and left the room. 

Though Charlie doesn't seem like a particularly violent person… She can get protective over the people she loves. So, let's just say she got that issue taken care of real quick. How stupid to mess with the Morningstar family. 

🪽⚔️Vaggie⚔️🪽:

Anybody in her vicinity needs to watch out when she hears that her love is hurt. 

Like, seriously, heads will roll. But not before she checks on you to evaluate how badly she needs to fuck up the person who did this to you. 

When she sees you, bruised and bloody, she can't help but hold you so tight and cry, scolding you for getting yourself into a bad situation without her there to protect you.

Vaggie knows what it feels like to be beaten and dumped on the side of the street like garbage. She could never forgive herself if she allowed that to happen to anybody else, let alone the genuine love of her life. 

When she asks for the person who did this, you can only give her a vague description. That’s alright though, she will use her former exterminator skills to scan all of Hell and find the person who dared to do this to you. She will not leave this alone until she serves you justice. 

🕷️💖Angeldust💖🕷️:

Coming home from the studio to find you in his room, crying and bruised, he immediately drops whatever he’s doing and comforts you in the biggest hug ever. 

Angel has plenty of experience with being abused and left to fend for himself, so he doesn't immediately resort to asking questions. No, that’s not what you need right now. You just need to know that you’re loved, beautiful, and that this does nothing to affect your worth or value as a person.

He carries you from the floor to his bed, covering you in blankets and laying next to you with Fat Nuggets. 

“It’s okay baby. You can cry, it's okay.” he whispers as you sob into his chest.

He allows you to initiate the conversation of what happened, not wanting to push you past your limits. 

Once he finds out what happened, he knows what he has to do. He waits until you fall asleep, and heads down to the club where your attacker happens to frequent. For once, being a famous pornstar will actually serve in his favor. He tempts your attacker to follow him, and immediately beats him to an absolute pulp. 

He allows the person to live, saying “I am only letting you live so you can know how it feels. You ever try this shit again, and I will find you. Except that time, you wont leave here looking so… whole.”

♥️♦️Husk♦️♥️:

Husk is used to all the residents of the hotel bitching and moaning to him about all of their issues. With Charlie coming to him and oftentimes crying about the many failures of the hotel, tears were no foreign sight to him.

But coming from the kitchen to the bar and seeing you there, looking an absolute mess, was different. 

“What the-What the fuck happened?” he yells. When you flinch, he knows that something happened.

When you explain to him what happened, he immediately needs a description of the attacker. He takes possibly the largest shot you've ever seen and storms out of the hotel.

He wishes that he could do more to protect you. Back when he was an overlord, he had power beyond anybody's imagination. He could've snapped a finger and your attacker would simply disintegrate (but not before he tortured him a bit first). But now that Alastor owned his soul, his powers were limited. 

You know what wasn't limited on husk, though? His pure physical strength.  

He immediately finds the guy walking on the street adjacent to the hotel (dumb, right?) and absolutely obliterates him. 

As the attacker is begging for his life, he just keeps hitting, blind with rage and love for you.

When he wants back into the hotel bloody and exasperated, he sits in the stool next to you and wraps you with one of his wings. 

“It’s all okay now. I’m here” he says as you lean on his shoulder, so ready to go to bed. 

🐍⚙️Sir Pentious⚙️🐍:

Sir Pentious always loved coming to your room to show you his many zany inventions. Normally you welcome him in with open arms, a sweet smile on your face, but today was different.

When he knocked on your door, he was met with absolute silence, which isn't normal for you. When he listened a bit closer, though, he could hear your small sniffles. He trusted his gut and slowly opened the door, fully ready to be denied entry.

Instead, you looked at him shyly, turning away and crying. He could've sworn that he saw a… black eye?

He took this opportunity to come and sit next to you on your floor, placing his arm around you and letting you lean your head on his shoulder. 

When he noticed that you were calming down a bit, he asked you what was wrong.

You explained that while you were engaged in a turf war, some ruffian beat you up, and badly. The girl you had momentarily teamed up with had left you behind, and you were left to trek back to the hotel on your own, barely able to walk. 

You could see something change in his eyes. 

He curled his tail around you, his cool skin calming your nerves. He assured you that he was here now, and nothing like this would ever happen to you again. He then swiftly called his egg bois to entertain and comfort you while he prepared his airship. The idiot that did this to you was going to pay, and not just in turf.

😈🐣Lucifer🐣😈:

Bursting into Lucifer’s room, the only thing you could mutter is “Help” as you fell into his arms. 

He frantically carried you to a chair and tried to assess your injuries. Man, someone fucked you up, and badly. Too bad he would kill them before they could brag about their success. 

He rushed to find ANYTHING that could help you. Bandages, ice, your favorite food, a rubber duck, ANYTHING. 

When he finds you absolutely passed out asleep in the chair, he gently moves you to his bed and tries his best not to stir you. 

As he sits watching you, thinking of your beautiful smile (and how he’ll brutally kill the person who did this to you), he observes your features with great detail. 

When you wake up, you smile. Lucifer must have gone, but sitting on your table is a bowl of soup and… is that a rubber duck that looks like you?

[katiekatdragon27]

Hey. Hey, guys. You'll never guess what I've been drawing.

Glisten: ...??

Glisten and his lame ass boyfriends!!!!!! Cheers to art dumps <3

[CW: SUGGESTIVE JOKE] More doodles below cut:

So! I know most of you come for the shinyshrimp stuff (WHICH WE WILL GET TO) but let me yap about Glisten and Razzle for a bit.

I LOVE YOU GLITTERMASK THEY COULD NEVER MAKE ME HATE YOU GLITTERMASK-

Glisten and Razzle got together like 3 months after Glisten and Boxten broke up. Razzle never really looked to Glisten that much outside of acquaintances (cuz he was kinda sorta lowkey jealous of Glisten's charisma and stage-presence). In fact, they were much more focused on Vee and maybe possibly had a crush on her, which is really funny in hindsight with Dazzle lol. However, after learning that Vee was a lesbian/being very rudely rejected by her, Razzle found comfort in Glisten and fell head-over-heels almost immediately.

The only problem is, Razzle has -10000 aura. His ass cannot be flirty or cool-charismatic at all.

Glisten: What do you do when you aren't distracting? Razzle: (Glisten likes mysterious people) I sell drugs!! Glisten: ... Excuse me? Razzle: (But Glisten also likes kind people) But ONLY to kids in need! Dazzle: (STOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOPSTOP-) *defeated whimper*

Razzle thinks he's that guy (they're not, they're pathetic honestly lol)

Also like, Razzle is suuuper dense when it comes to everyone except Dazzle. They struggle with self-reflection and other-people reflection, so he is completely convinced he is doing all the right things, when in actuality, they are very very very cringe.

Razzle: No see Dazzie, this is why they call me Rizzle. Dazzle: (No one has EVER called you that.)

Denseness is one hell of a drug, aye, fellas?

Dazzle is being pulled through the wringer trying to preserve whatever was left of her (and Razzle's) pride. It's not working. Girl is fighting for their life every time she is dragged over by Razzle in order to say a horrible pick-up line to Glisten.

(This is all pre-relationship btw. After they get together it becomes an inside joke and Glisten retorts with his own awful (although not nearly as bad) pick-up lines)

Now the moment you've been waiting forrrr 🥁🥁🥁🥁🥁

✨ Shinyshrimp ✨

I love them chat, I love them sm. They have so much drama and love and interesting things going on, they're so cool and fun n stuff and AUGHHHHH💥💥💥

Shrimpo being that one guy who craves affection but would literally bite anyone who gives it to him is so real to me. Homie wants a hug but ends up suplexing whoever hugged him outta reflex. Glisten, on the other hand, is one of the most affectionate people ever. He's not affectionate to everyone, but when you catch his interest (both platonic and romantic), he is very verbally and physically affectionate. He'll buy you things, he'll give you hugs, he'll let you invade his personal space, all stuff he would never let normies do.

Shrimpo loves this, however, homie has no idea how to deal with any kind of affection in a positive way. Cat-coded ahh guy. Glisten does find this amusing tho, so he's more inclined to be affectionate with Shrimpo to help him "get over it" in a way.

This is just for shits and giggles. I feel like everyone should draw this meme with their ships. It's a canon event at this point.

What can I say? He was hungry.

Can't forget my fankids. I love my fankids. I miss my fankids. I need to draw my fankids more istg I need to revamp their ask blog soon (especially with some new editions coming soon).

Also Hamlet looks smaller because most of his internal structure is made of ribbon and stuffing, so he shrinks into a ball when happy. He also loafs like a cat, what a guy.

Also also also what the skibidi sigma happened to my prep-jock ship?? Why is it backwards???

I drew these because I had a vision of the little doodle below and only thought it would work if they were swaped... sooooo... here we are.

Scapmi is a preppy goth-ish shrimp with an eye for fashion and artistry. With a smart mouth and a massive ego, he often comes off as an annoyance to others. He loves to be front and center in everything but often has to fight with his internalized idea that everything is a competition that he needs to win no matter what. It causes him a lot of stress and self-doubt, but he'd never let anyone see his weaknesses.

Gash is a shrap-toned violent mirror who speaks more with his fists than his voice. He hates everything that is not himself (and sweets) and makes sure people know that. He used to be a perfectionist, but after an accident permanently cracked his face, he dropped his "perfect" persona in favor of a messy, more hateful one. He wants connection but doesn't know how to express his needs in an understandable way, and that frustrates him immensely.

As you can see, match made in heaven.

Gash: DUDE, WHAT THE F*CK!? Scampi: There's a smudge on you- Gash: I DON'T CARE! LET GO!! Scampi: Not 'til I'm done. (Your natural blush is gorgeous; shame it's on you tho)

So yeah, swap shinyshrimp lore drop yippee.

Have a good one chat, til I reappear again✌️✌️

[sockmeat]

okay soo requesting for lucifer, cause man is such a sad boy. Okay, idk how these things works I never done like a request so bare with me. So like Lucifer is introducing us (y/n??) to Charlie, you know like were dating her dad lol. And he gets all nervous, and we're like super calm, chill and getting along with Charlie but Lucifer is just a hot mess of anxiety lol

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

✼__________________________________________________________✼

𝐆𝐍 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐄𝐑 -- 𝐌𝐞𝐞𝐭𝐢𝐧𝐠 𝐂𝐡𝐚𝐫𝐥𝐢𝐞... (𝑯𝒂𝒛𝒃𝒊𝒏 𝑯𝒐𝒕𝒆𝒍)

(𝐰𝐜): 490

𝐒𝐮𝐦𝐦𝐚𝐫𝐲: After a long time of you being with Lucifer, you finally get the opportunity to meet his daughter, Charlie.

(𝐀/𝐍): Wow i'm going off rn go me

𝐖𝐚𝐫𝐧𝐢𝐧𝐠(𝐬): Lucifer is a wreck

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

♡ You were the one to offer to meet Charlie.

♡ You specifically brought it up after he got Charlie the meeting with Adam. You would've done it before, but they hadn't talked for so long before that point, that you felt it wouldn't be right to bring it up.

♡ But, since Lucifer is warming up to the idea of getting close to Charlie again, you sat him down and asked if you could meet her.

♡ You figured since he thinks of Charlie so highly, and she's his daughter, it would only be right for you to meet her.

♡ But Lucifer was terrified of the idea.

♡ He couldn't think of a solid reason, but he was just so damn nervous, he was too scatterbrained to think of something.

♡ He was just thinking of everything that could go wrong instead of what could actually happen.

♡ Thankfully, you've been with Lucifer long enough that you knew how to handle him when he got like this.

♡ You cracked him until he came to the conclusion that he was just terrified Charlie wouldn't approve of your relationship.

♡ You weren't nervous at all, though.

♡ Lucifer would talk about Charlie all the time, you were confident she wouldn't be so quick to judge and deny you on the first meeting.

♡ It was a few days of Lucifer sitting on the idea before Charlie called to ask him to visit the hotel.

♡ Lucifer was excited about finally getting to see his daughter again and you were excited because you could finally meet her!

♡ Surprisingly, Lucifer was the one to bring it up, by walking you out the door himself and talking about how excited he was.

♡ But that excitement quickly turned into nerves, in typical Lucifer fashion.

♡ You were able to successfully keep his nerves controlled until you were finally at the Hotel and Charlie let you in.

♡ Lucifer first turned his attention to Keekee, then Razzle and Dazzle, before he ran out of things to stall with.

♡ Charlie introduced Vaggie to Lucifer as her girlfriend and that's when Lucifer saw an opening and pushed through.

♡ It wasn't as smooth as he had hoped, but he nearly melted into his boots when you took over and introduced yourself to everyone in the hotel.

♡ He was even more relieved when you and Charlie hit it off without a hitch.

♡ You both talked passionately about her Hazbin Hotel project, with you being interested and her being eager to tell someone about it.

♡ Lucifer was very happy to see his two favorite people getting along so well, even when Alastor was taunting him and trying to get under his skin.

♡ With the way you and Charlie bonded, there was no denying that this wouldn't be the last time you would meet, and you would definitely bring Lucifer with you.

                                                        𓆩♡𓆪

[eclipseberrycake]

Fetch (Razzle and Dazzle x T! Reader)

AN: idk what to put for this one tbh. normally I just yap here but I got nothing to yap about. Now if you'll excuse me I'm gonna go play Dandy's world :D

This is a request!

☁ ...They...They weren't sure where to go from here in all honesty. There was never a handbook on Twisteds and everything they knew had come from the distractors bringing back their own findings alongside Rodger's almost manic need for information.

☁ But....This one was new. By all accounts, you appeared like a normal twisted, charging and chasing the first toon you saw- which was the distractor. They had made it a point to actively avoid looking in your direction, their chest aching at the very thought of seeing you so...upset.

☁ They knew first hand how being a twisted felt, but they couldn't imagine going through it more than once. You had gotten caught on a box last during one of the last runs and Scraps had managed to snag you back out of their arms just as the elevator shut.

☁ It was a particularly cruel turning, most agreed, and they hadn't left their room for days. This run was the first they had been on since, having dug up enough will that convince themselves that their love for you was greater than the disgrace they felt for letting you down.

☁ But to return to a run and for...this? They almost considered leaving. But they couldn't. Especially not with how you were looking at them. While your eyes were stained the trademark red, they looked up at them like they hung the stars in the sky.

☁ You were crouched on the balls of your feet as you stared up at them, the handle of a medkit clutched between your sharpened teeth. Razzle and Dazzle had to look at each other.

☁ They were pinned against the machine they were working on, looking for an exit. You were much faster then they were on this floor however, so any chance they had would prove fruitless and most likely get them hit. It's like you were taunting them, really. They'd been caught twice already and their healers were stretched thin with the distractors- especially with Brightney and Vee running about and their low stealth. That must've been how you got away.

☁ You weren't immediately attacking though, so that was a plus.

☁ "Hi, baby!" Razzle, ever the optimist, waves, while Dazzle looks around for any one of the distractors. Looey was coming up, cautiously, holding an airhorn in his hand. He made eye contact with them and they nodded, and he let it rip.

☁ You looked back and growled around the med kit, but to both their surprises, you didn't move. Well, not towards Looey. You didn't even look like you were considering it. No, instead you turned to face Looey, backing up as if you were protecting them.

☁...From Looey. The balloon dog.

☁ Razzle had to snicker even as Dazzle looked exasperated at the thought. Looey blinked at the action, looking up towards them, then back to you. "You...You gonna be okay with them? I can stay nearby for Panic just in case."

☁ "They seem un-aggroed right now, so I supposed we'll be okay." Dazzle muttered. "But maybe stay nearby if the other have the other twisteds under control."

☁ Looey nods with a salute. "Aye, Aye. I'll try to stick between you and them just in case of strays. Lightspeed, my friend."

☁ Watching Looey leave, Razzle and Dazzle are left looking at you. You hadn't stopped growling until after Looey was out of your sight. Then, and only then, you turned to face them again, all traces of aggression gone and over with. Instead, you looked rather comparable to the cat that caught the canary, still holding the medkit that really should've gone to Cosmo.

☁ Dazzle says as much and your face scrunches, as if disgusted by the idea before shaking your head. You drop it at his feet and nudge it towards them, doing it again when they make no move to grab it.

☁ They look at each other once more before calling for Cosmo, even if you visibly anger at it.

☁ The cake roll is quick to abandon whatever he was doing, turning the corner with a raised brow before eyeing the med-kit. He opens his mouth to say something as he fully steps around the corner only to pause, blinking as he stares at the twisted in front of them.

☁ You aren't growling, but you look close to doing so. The three of you stand at a stale mate.

☁ Then Cosmo holds his hands up in an act of surrender, watching you like he would watch a rowdy pet rather than a twisted. They know he has quite the experience built up with Twisteds, and honestly, they'd probably go to him for answers before they went to Rodger, so whatever lead he takes, they'll follow.

☁ All of this was working towards getting you back anyway, so the more research they can get towards the subject is a win for them.

☁ "I understand your worry." Cosmo startles them as he talks, but not to either Razzle or Dazzle, but to you. His eyes are locked onto you as he slowly kneels, holding a hand out. "I'll heal them first. I promise. But I need that so I can make sure we all can make it back to the lobby. You want to get better, right? I need that to give you the best shot at coming back."

☁ He speaks like he's dealing with a rowdy child and you whine at this, turning back to them. Dazzle nods to emphasize this while Razzle beams. "He's right! You know Dazzle and I miss you a whole bunch, but we need time to get you back, spotlight!"

☁ You look at both of them, then at Cosmo, picking up the medkit and dropping it on the other side of you, pushing it towards Cosmo. The cake roll immediately uses it, pulling out a treat out of his side pouch and tossing it to them.

☁ Razzle catches it and immediately digs into it under your careful watch while Dazzle's too busy watching Cosmo. "How'd you know how to do that?"

☁ Cosmo shrugs before nodding behind him. "I've been in the situation where a twisted shows a bit of...cohesion. Unlike the clones, they're still in there, it's just...getting to them." There's a far away look in his eyes that's blinked away near immediately.

☁ Dazzle takes this for what it is and lets the subject drop, instead turning his attention to where you're now watching them much more happily.

☁ You don't leave their side, even as panic hits, walking them the elevator despite Looey's attempts to call your attention away. You let them go and even wave in a manner that is pure claws and clumsy movements.

☁ It's one of the last runs needed before they can get you back, but they make sure to bring the duo every time after. It keeps you calm and docile, even if you snatch medkits away from Cosmo and Sprout just to bring them to Razzle and Dazzle- just for the entire process of explaining that Cosmo needs it more to repeat.

☁ Bands are free game and you refuse to budge on those; even if they give it to Cosmo when the elevator closes anyway.

☁ It doesn't stop there. Since you're on the floor before any of them, you're able to scout out the best of the best and drop it at their feet. Bottles of pop, boxes of chocolate, jumper cables, there's even been the memorable valve that you took out of Boxten's pocket.

☁ While they're greatful that you don't immediately snap on them, they miss you something fierce and work hard to get you back.

☁ It almost hurts their heart, watching you lean into Razzle's hand while Dazzle uses the antidote to bring you back, almost as if they're using your blind trust in them to manipulate you into coming back.

☁ But when you wake up and immediately lace both their faces in a flurry of kisses and praise, they know it was your way of waiting for them the same way they waited for you.

[guileless-beast]

Reuniting with them… after they’ve twisted

(Ft. Astro, Glisten, Razzle + Dazzle, Shrimpo)

Tags: longpost, headcanons, ambiguous relationship, previous relationship, kinda implied you’re immune to Ichor or smth bc theres no mention of you getting infected, lots of hurt/comfort

notes: first post! pls be nice to me

Astro

•He doesn’t recognize you at first. Not for a while, actually

•Mindlessly chases you around like all the other twisteds, though something in him stirs when he first spots you

•Get somewhere safe and up high where he can’t reach with his arms. His telekinesis has been destroyed by the Ichor; the most he can do with it now is tug on your shirt, and he isn’t exactly focused enough to do so anyway, so you'll be safe so long as he can't grab you

•Talk. About anything, preferably things you used to do with him. Your voice is familiar. Comforting. It soothes the ache in his heart that the Ichor once weaponized

•Resist your own exhaustion long enough, and Astro himself will fall asleep listening to you

•Let him rest. In a few hours he’ll wake up and you can keep trying to help him remember who he is, or you can leave while he sleeps if you think it’s getting too dangerous

Glisten

•Yells your name and RUNS at you full speed. It’s more than a little terrifying.

•He doesn’t mean any harm- he really doesn’t!- he’s just been alone for so long… he’s sobbing as he chases you, he can’t lose you again, he just can’t, please-

•Tackles you down and hugs the life out of you. Literally. If you don’t tell him to let up in time you might lose a heart

•He apologizes, but doesn’t let go. Keeps babbling about how he missed you- he’s hardly even coherent, but you get the gist

•Get to a secluded little spot and let him cry in your arms. Rub the top half of his back and cuddle him close; he desperately needs comfort after what he’s been through

•He appreciates every bit of affection you give him, even if it just makes him cry harder

•So long as you let him stay with/follow you, he'll do anything you ask. Need help extracting? He's even better at extracting than before, somehow. Running from a twisted? You're already in his arms. He'll even scrounge around with you for supplies!

•Be careful if he somehow finds makeup, though. He'll doll you up as SOON as the two of you are safe.

•(And if you do his own, he'll be giddy for the rest of the day.)

Razzle + Dazzle

•Sit just outside the circle with the both of them. Don’t talk, don’t make noise. Razzle bears the brunt of their infection; he won’t recognize you if you wake him. Not immediately, at least.

•Eventually Dazzle is going to wake up from his doze and scan around them for any threats, and spot you

•Dazzle will recognize you after a moment, and his expression will turn positively miserable. You’re not safe around him and Razzle, you need to leave…

•Silently keep them company for long enough and Dazzle WILL shed a few tears. It’s just been him and Razzle for who knows how long, and while he is very worried for your safety it’s nice to have someone else here (that isn’t crazed with Ichor)

•Razzle’ll finally wake up in the middle of his twin crying and see you. As he always does when he spots someone, he takes control of their body and stands, preparing to attack, but-

•…he can’t do anything so long as you’re not in the circle, though. He’ll growl and pull at the weight they’re tied to (as Dazzle squeaks and tries to take back control to no avail) but settles after a while

•Much like Astro, some part of Razzle tries to remember, but can’t- though, your face helps more than your voice in Razzle’s case. He won’t go back to sleep, no matter how much Dazzle pleads

•He sits and stares at you unendingly. It’s possible to talk to Razzle like this- though, he’ll pay more attention to your expression and gestures than your words

•Stay with them for a while, please. You’re the only way Razzle can be calm while awake, and while Dazzle knows it’d be safer for you if you left, your presence eases his mind too

Shrimpo

•It’s Shrimpo. Be ready for a fight.

•He recognizes you almost immediately. Does a full stop AND double take. He'll just stand there for a few moments until you move, and then he'll start chasing you like normal- or…

•...almost like normal. He's faster, more desperate, more angry, and keeps making these gurgling sounds as you try to lose him (to no avail; all his attention is on you, all he is going after is you)

•Be prepared to block his punches. He’s stronger now- they will hurt if they land. If you can, bring some kind of armor or protection for yourself like a shield along with all the patience you have. Otherwise, your arms are going to be real sore from blocking his attacks.

•He’ll punch, and punch, and punch some more. He’s so pissed it almost hurts. How dare you leave him for so long? How dare you think you could just waltz right up to him and be friends normal again?

•(How dare you abandon him here? How dare you not be there for him when he needed you most? How dare you not be there when the Ichor took over and he nearly suffocated? Where were you? Why did you leave him? What did he do?)

•Don’t hit back; your goal is to outlast him, not to overpower him. Let him take out his blind rage on your shield/guards, or you’ll never make progress with him.

•Don’t worry, it won’t take too long for him to falter. He’s still Shrimpo, after all. Wait until his punches weaken and his fists shake. Wait until he starts taking a full second between hits. Wait until he connects one more blow with your defense, and then shove him downward.

•Given he just exhausted himself, he’ll definitely be knocked flat on the ground. It’ll take him a good moment to get up- use this time to kneel down, slide your arms beneath him, and press him into your chest.

•He’ll try to move away- keyword: try, because no matter how hard he wants to, he cannot move his arms. All he can do is twitch and make those gurgling noises again as you gather the rest of him into your lap.

•Just… be patient, and hold him. He’s quite literally never experienced anything like this before. Eventually Shrimpo will stop leaning away. He won’t lean in, per se, but he’ll stop fighting it and go limp.

•Tell him how long you’ve been looking for him, how much you missed him, how glad you are to see him again; and maybe, just maybe, he’ll find the strength to shakily bring his arms around you.

•He rationalizes it as an attempt to scratch you, but he’s still too fatigued to do any damage.

•(Not only that, but he tells himself the heat in his eyes is just Ichor, too.)

[jenosbliss]

Pleaseeee can I request either Jaemin or Johnny and a female reader hurt-comfort using 11,19,25 ? And for a dash of random razzle-dazzle, could it be 7th year Hogwarts au? :D

pairing. fem! ravenclaw reader x slytherin jaemin | genre. fluff, enemies to lovers | wc. 1.2k | warnings. mentions of bullying and reader injures her leg

a/n:: tbh jaemin is such a perfect slytherin! and also ppl need to ship ravenclaws and slyrherin more

The library was supposed to be your sanctuary. Quiet, orderly, and far from the petty rivalries that filled Hogwarts’ halls. But today, it had failed you.

You sat at a corner table, your face burning as you stared at the Potions essay that had been unceremoniously ruined by a flick of Ming Zheng’s wand. He was a smug Slytherin who had made it his personal mission to torment you this year just for his petty amusement.

Zheng’s voice echoed in your ears as you stared at the ink-stained parchment in front of you.

“I thought Ravenclaws were supposed to be smart,” he’d sneered, his entourage laughing as the ink spread like wildfire across your essay. “Guess even your brains couldn’t make up for that handwriting.”

Zheng Yi wasn’t like Jaemin Na, your archnemesis. Jaemin teased you, pushed your buttons, and made your blood boil in ways you secretly enjoyed. But Zheng Yi? He was cruel. Sharp. His insults weren’t playful—they were designed to cut deep.

It wasn’t like you didn’t have a backbone. You’d always stood up to Jaemin, giving back as much as you got. But with Zheng Yi, it was different. Any attempt to fight back would only escalate things, and you couldn’t risk drawing more attention to yourself.

So you avoided him. Kept your head down, swallowed your pride, and let him think he’d won. You hated it—hated him—but you hated the thought of drawing more trouble even more.

The laughter still echoed in your ears as you fought back tears. Zheng had walked off with his entourage before you could muster a response, leaving you feeling small and humiliated. You’d tried to rewrite the essay, but your hands were trembling too much to hold the quill properly.

“Pathetic,” you muttered under your breath, blinking back frustrated tears.

“Isn’t it a bit early in the day for a pity party?” You froze, the low, teasing voice unmistakable.

Looking up, you saw Jaemin leaning against a nearby bookshelf, his emerald-and-silver tie loosened, his smirk firmly in place.

“Go away, Na,” you snapped, though your voice wavered. “I’m not in the mood.”

Jaemin raised an eyebrow but didn’t leave. Instead, he walked over and pulled out the chair across from you, sitting down like he belonged there.

“I saw what happened,” he said, gesturing to your ruined essay. “Zheng’s a git.”

“Since when do you care?” you asked sharply, glaring at him. “I thought you lot stuck together.”

“Maybe I don’t like seeing people like him thinking they’re untouchable. Or maybe…” His voice softened, surprising you. “I just don’t like seeing you like this.”

The sincerity in his tone disarmed you, and for a moment, you didn’t know what to say.

“None of that matters now,” Jaemin said, pulling out his wand. Before you could protest, he muttered a quick spell, and the ink stains on your parchment disappeared as if they’d never been there.

“You’re helping me?” you asked, incredulous.

He shrugged, leaning back in his chair. “Don’t read too much into it, Ravenclaw. I just hate sloppy work. That essay looked half-decent before Zheng wrecked it.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself. “Thanks.”

“Don’t mention it,” he said, smirking again. “Literally. Don’t tell anyone. I have a reputation to uphold.” He was nothing like Zheng.

A few days later, you found yourself facing Zheng in Defense Against the Dark Arts. The moment Professor McAllister paired you with him, your stomach sank. Dueling wasn’t your strong suit, and Zheng knew it. The smirk he gave you before raising his wand made your blood run cold.

At first, you managed to hold your own, dodging his hexes and firing back with as much precision as you could muster. But Zheng was relentless, his attacks growing more aggressive with each passing second.

When his final hex hit, it sent your wand flying out of your hand and you sprawling to the ground. Pain shot through your leg as the impact knocked the wind out of you. The class erupted in murmurs and cheers, but all you could hear was Zheng’s voice.

“Better luck next time, bookworm,” he sneered, stepping closer as if to gloat over your defeat. Before you could respond, another voice cut through the noise, sharp and commanding.

“That’s enough.” All eyes turned to Jaemin, who stepped forward with a glare that could have frozen the entire classroom.

Zheng smirked, crossing his arms. “What’s it to you, Na?”

“Why don’t you try competing with her in Transfiguration or Charms? Afraid your stupid ass won’t survive?” Jaemin said, his voice low and cold. He walked past Zheng without another glance, kneeling beside you.

“Can you walk?” he asked gently, his hand already reaching for yours. “I-I think so,” you stammered, though the sharp pain in your leg made you doubt it.

Jaemin frowned, slipping an arm under your shoulders to help you sit up. “We’re not taking any chances.”

“Jaemin, I—”

“Do you trust me?” he interrupted, his dark eyes locking onto yours. You hesitated for only a moment before nodding. “Yes.”

Without another word, Jaemin helped you to the hospital wing, his arm steady around you as he shielded you from the prying eyes of your classmates.

In the hospital wing, Madam Pomfrey healed your leg quickly, though she insisted you stay seated for a while, but Jaemin stayed by your side long after the matron left to tend to other students.

“Why are you doing this?” you asked finally, breaking the silence.

Jaemin leaned against the wall, his smirk returning. “Maybe I felt bad for you. Or maybe I just wanted an excuse to miss class.”

“Sure,” you said, rolling your eyes, though you couldn’t help the smile that tugged at your lips. “You’re impossible.”

“True,” he said, stepping closer. His smirk softened as his eyes met yours, something unspoken passing between you. “But Zheng’s an idiot and you don’t deserve to deal with him. You’re better than him. Smarter, stronger—and definitely more fun to mess with.”

A laugh escaped you despite the lingering embarrassment. “Thanks, I guess.”

“Anytime,” Jaemin said, sitting down next to you. His hand reached for yours, his thumb brushing soothing circles against your skin. The gesture was so gentle, so unlike him, that it left you momentarily speechless.

“You’re supposed to be my enemy,” you teased, though your voice was barely above a whisper. Jaemin smiled, leaning in to press a soft kiss to your forehead. “Guess I’m breaking the rules.” Your cheeks burned, but this time, you didn’t mind.

“Next time Zheng tries anything,” Jaemin added, his tone serious, “tell me. I’ll handle it.” You gave a small laugh, squeezing his hand. “You already did.”

He smiled, his thumb brushing against your cheek now. “Good. But just in case, stick close to me, Ravenclaw. I don’t mind breaking the rules for you.”

As he pulled away, you stared at him, your heart beating a little faster. “Thanks,” you murmured again, squeezing his hand. “Don’t get used to it,” he said with a smirk, though the warmth in his eyes betrayed his words.

You couldn’t help but wonder if maybe, just maybe, your nemesis wasn't your nemesis anymore.

masterlist. nct dream | nct 127 | wayv

100 followers event 🌷

navigation.

[dandysworld-meh-imagines]

very sorry, I accidentally requested when it wasn’t open, but since it is now I know you might have deleted my ask so I will say it again

if your comfortable doing so, could we have like a twisted Razzle and Dazzle seeing twisted reader again (angst) or if your not comfortable writing for RnD, same concept but with twisted Astro?

Twisted Razzle & Dazzle Seeing Twisted Reader Again!

Hey, dear anon! No worries, I'm not mad or anything! I won't delete requests anymore unless I deny them. If your request is at the bottom of my pinned post, it means I'll get to work on it eventually and it's accepted!

Aughh, I love writing for twisteds!! And angst too? Mhmm!! Count me in! I like this scenario a lot! I'm becoming more and more comfortable writing angst, hehehe! Here you go, dear anon! Thank you for requesting! <3

-Anna

-It hurt them to separate their heads so they would stick together as they sit on the floor, not wanting to open their eyes or wanting to move, having tied themselves down like that. They would close their eyes and take deep shaky breaths as they rocked back and forth. It was enough to calm them down, trying to focus on other things rather than the pain the ichor was giving them. They both lost half of their faces so they stuck together their heads for each other, so that they feel at least a bit normal for once.. like they haven't lost anything.

-They would get aggressive when a twisted made noise or run in the circle they have created without knowing themselves, as if wanting others to stay away from their safe space. The anger from wanting others to stay out of their comfort zone was strong enough that they send sharp red vines to push them out of there or injure them SO good that it made them run away, teaching them a lesson and not disturb them ever. Silence calms them down, even letting them close their eyes and doze off so they won't feel the pain as much.

-Oh, but when YOU stepped into the circle a bit too loud on accident, their eyes opened immediately and they got up, shaking a lot as they shot a vine towards the direction of your footstep with pure anger but they stopped it immediately once they saw who it was... It was you, but as a twisted. Their eyes observed your twisted form as the vine retreated to the ground slowly, their anger was replaced with something else. They made their hands a tight fist as they felt miserable.

-All they could do was stare at you with the usual intense red eyes of theirs, they felt ichor run down their cheeks as they started crying. Razzle's smile becoming a frown and Dazzle opened his mouth like he wanted to say something but nothing came out, the ichor had destroyed them completely, their thoughts, their bodies as they felt negative emotions like there was no tomorrow. They watched as you took steps back slowly, understanding that this specific zone will hurt you more alongside the ichor to pass safely.

-Sometimes you needed to pass through, so you tried to be quiet, seeing as dead silent made them calm down. While the ichor has destroyed your thought process a lot, at least you could understand somewhat some things such as this. It seemed to work and sometimes you accidentally stepped a bit too loud during the end and made them stand up as they shook, looking over at you silently, observing your every single movement. Sometimes you stayed and they sat down again, gripping their shirt tightly as they tried taking deep breaths as they split their heads apart.

-Sometimes you left without looking back, only caring to pass through and not disturb them and they would just watch as you got out of their sight and they shook, oh they shook alright as some ichor tears fell out. Small glimpses of memories of you hanging out with them would come into their minds and they might get even more aggressive as they try gripping the spot that hurt the most on their heads, shaking and grunting, trying to make it stop. It hurts, it hurts, it hurts and they don't want to deal with it, they want silence.

-It would happen a lot when they kept seeing you more and more, they had a feeling that you were someone very important to them but then pain followed and they didn't know what to do, often breaking down crying as they hoped it would pass fast. They knew you were the cause but something in them didn't want to hurt you at all and they didn't know why at all. It made them frustrated as tears would blur their vision, what was with you..?! They didn't know!!

-But one time, you happened to pass by when they were super frustrated. They thought it was another twisted on this floor and shot vines in your direction as they had their eyes closed, gripping their heads from all the pain but their eyes became open immediately when they heard your cries and looked in your direction, big frowns in both faces as ichor fell on the floor from you. You had fallen down as your leg was injured and it hurt a lot, you cried as it hurt and they froze completely after they realized fully what they had done.

-They could only watch as you got up and made a run for it and that's when they realized that they were crying again. They tried to yell for you as their hands reached out and they walked towards your direction but they couldn't move that far, being tied down on the floor and all. They weeped as their legs gave out, hiding their faces in shame from hurting you. They could always try to untie themselves but it was so hard when they felt so weak after all this time.

-So they could only stay there, next to the small pile of ichor from YOU. They can always hug their knees again as they rocked back and forth, taking deep breaths, they can always sit in an opposite direction so they can't see it but the fact that it's right there on the floor will never leave their poor minds. They never shot another vines to anyone else ever again, they were shaking more and were more paranoid, not wanting to hurt anything and anyone. They just want to be alone, so they don't hurt you and to minimize the pain as much as possible. They didn't know if you will ever get close to them ever again as they only stared at the floor, trying to calm down for minutes, hours, days, you name it.

Thank you for reading! <3

[nottivagos]

COME ON IN! COME ON IN! Welcome Notti's "Not So Innocent" Notebook where I write some filth to make your Thursday a little bit better <3 || 18+ mdni pls and ty

Gangster!Danny runs the streets. Every club and bar in your little town he owns. Too bad you're such a pretty thing that comes into his club often. Your father has always told you to avoid Daniel, but after you start a secret affair with him, you can't stay away.

an: first of all, anyone who knows the lyric that inspired this, can i ask for your hand in marriage? like, actually. second of all, gangster au has my heart. like i'm a whore for gangster au so much. oh- the camera was rolling?! shit, that was off script...

taglist: @orangeblossomsintheair

You shouldn't be here. It wasn't right.

Daniel Ricciardo was trouble. Your father had specifically told you that when you'd started to go to his clubs more often. Don't get involved with the Ricciardo Gang, he said. They're trouble waiting to happen, he said.

But there was something alluring that kept you coming back. Daniel was different. He wasn't like the rest of the lackeys in his gang. He was purer, you could see those cracks whenever you spoke to him on an intimate level, the desire to get out of his gang lifestyle evident in his speech.

Danny liked running the clubs. He enjoyed the razzle dazzle and the clientele that came along with it. The man was a charmer, an intoxicatingly gorgeous charmer, but anyone could tell you that. But what he didn't enjoy was the men with guns and the bounties on people's heads. The protection rackets he'd had to have put in place as a result of owning nearly all the casinos in town, the enemies that came along with being this gangster he didn't want to be.

You'd caught his eye the first time you'd stepped inside one of the lavish nightclubs near your little home on a side street. Danny had already acknowledged how out of place you looked with the aristocrats, the way you lurked timidly in the shadows, the innocence in your eye when you choked on harsh liquor you'd never been exposed to. It made his heart flutter.

Quick glances became small talk. Small talk became long nights. It was dreamy. Your heart warmed with his teases, smooth flirts, loving words; your senses soon came accustomed to the booze he sold and supplied cheaply, your flushed cheeks radiating whenever he got you a little too tipsy.

You were cute to Danny and that's all that mattered.

“What would your daddy do if he saw you here, huh?” His words were teasing, they had a bite to them. A smirk moulded onto his lips as his brown doe eyes stayed locked onto your's. “You know I'm trouble, don'tcha princess?”

The words rolled off his tongue so smoothly. It was intoxicating. It was wrong. It was thrilling. A cocktail of emotions swam around in your gut, swirling into anticipation as you batted your eyelashes, twirling some strays of your hair around your finger ever so slowly.

“Maybe you are trouble,” you giggled in response, biting back your bottom lip before letting it pop back. “But you're the one who offered to buy me this drink,” you added with a knowing look, a cheeky smile forming on your soft lips, “so I think that makes us even.”

A raised eyebrow followed. “Oh, is that so?” He questioned, leaning in a little further, his face merely inches away from your own. It made your breath hitch, the intensity of the distance between you both becoming suffocating. The nagging voice in your head telling you it was wrong made it seem oh so right. “Little miss has got some spunk on her, I see.”

Your eyes lit up, giddiness fluttering around your whole body. The electricity of the intimacy and playful banter set your body alight, the moment making your heart pound like an overpowering drum. This whole ordeal was wrong, you couldn't go against your father, but it felt right. Daniel Ricciardo was trouble, but he'd soon be your trouble.

“I try,” you responded as dryly as you could, lips toying with the straw in your cheap gin and tonic as you took small sips every so often. “You don't scare me as much as my daddy wants you to, Danny,” you highlighted with a raised eyebrow before sipping again, the words rolling off of your tongue like thick honey. Smooth and sweet.

“I know I don't, darling,” he quickly answered with an amused scoff. “If I scared you, then we wouldn't be here,” his voice lowered whilst his face edged forward even more, nose now nudging your own slightly as his elbows came to rest on the wooden bar comfortably.

“So you're not even scared of what my daddy would think?” the question so innocently asked by yourself made him chuckle in response. You really were stupid.

“Are you scared of what your daddy would think?”

“Sometimes,” you whispered with a soft look, “but I suppose that doesn't matter.”

“How come?” Danny questioned with more of a little smile that had formed on his lips.

“I'm good at keeping secrets,” your hot breath brushed against his face in that moment whilst you murmured.

“So if I kissed you right now you'd be able to keep it a secret, huh?” Danny challenged with a knowing look, a hungry glint shining in his eye.

At that moment you should've been afraid. You should've ran, the glimmer in his eye meant trouble. A good type of trouble nonetheless. A trouble so enticing that any girl wanted it when entranced in Danny's charm.

“Depends if you're a good kisser or not,” you teased, batting your eyelashes as his breathing became less controlled.

“Is that a challenge, sweetheart?”

You responded with a nod, cheeks burning. The sweet look of your face was all Danny needed to see the green light. A large hand cupped your burning face, his nose coming down to nuzzle against your's, lips hovering dangerously before he planted a gentle kiss on your mouth.

A soft moan was suppressed as your hand followed to cup his stubble, melting into his lips as they burnt into you. The moment was raw, so passionately beautiful as your lips slowly parted from each other ever so slowly. A sheepish smile plastered on your face as he smirked at you, his brown eyes fixed on yours.

“Was that more to your liking, princess?” He chuckled, grabbing his tumbler of whiskey, before downing the remnants of amber liquid in one gulp, allowing the alcohol to burn his throat.

You were too much in a flustered daze to answer his question. Mind fuzzy from the intimacy of the gentle peck, you blinked in disbelief for a few moments, the bustle of the nightclub becoming a blur.

He snorted slightly upon seeing your reaction. “I'll take that as a yes, pretty girl,” he mumbled his voice as thick as tar, brushing a loose strand of your hair behind your ear ever so tenderly with a smile you'd never forget in a million years. <3

like gangster!danny? fancy sending me an ask in my ask box so you can be added to my notebook! - notti <3

[whyareyoulookingatmelikethat]

[13]: Twirling Thread

(Longer than my usual stories.)

This took a while, heh. Sorry for the wait in regards of stories, writer's block has arrived at Destination Me.

Not sure if I'll do the rest of the characters, feeling pretty down. Maybe someday.

(Reader is the costume designer for the toons. The names above each paragraph of writing are the names of certain skins in the game.)

Boxten: “Cloudy Dream”

“Almost…almost…there!”

You sat up to lean back and look over your work.The prettiest shade of lavender dripped from a small paintbrush you held, a can of white as well close by.

“Okay, we can let it dry, and then you can take the tarp off. Don’t want your clothes to get paint on them too.”

He reached up gingerly to pat his face down as he normally would, but you grabbed his hand quickly, forcing it away.

“Boxten…”

“Sorry, sorry! It’s a habit…”

Poppy: “Sapphire Dots”

“You’re sure this isn't a bit tacky?”

“I don’t care if it's tacky, what matters is I’m wearing it, and I’m proud!”

“Being proud doesn’t hide a poor sense of fashion.”

“Y/N!!!”

Tisha: “Lavender Maid”

“And to top it all off…”

You brought out the item from behind your back and gave it to her.

“A brand new feather duster!”

She gasped in delight, and gently put it down, then hugged you.

“Oh my goodness, thank you so much! The old one I had was getting so dirty, and I can't really wash stuff like that…”

“Hehe, I’m excited to see you use it! Have fun!”

Finn: “Prismatic Pal”

“MORE SHINE! MORE!!”

“FINN THIS IS GETTING TO BE TOO MUCH-”

“THERE’S NO SUCH THING AS TOO MUCH SHINE, I WANT TO LOOK LIKE THE SUN!!!!”

“FINN YOU’RE ALREADY TOO BRIGHT FOR ME TO LOOK AT!!”

Razzle And Dazzle: “Seafoam”

“You’re doing a lot for us, you know. (Are you sure?)”

“Yes I’m sure! Besides, if you guys are going to perform sometime, you’ll need different outfits, right?”

“She’s got a point!” “(Alright then…but at least make it something simple.)”

“Aw, okay then. How does a mix of greens sound?”

“It won't be something like yellow-green, will it? (Yuck…)”

“Nope, more like turquoise.”

“Oooh, I’m excited to see how it looks! (Sounds pretty…)”

Cosmo: “Caramel Drizzle”

“I thought that maybe because you and Sprout are friends, you guys could have matching outfits! Whaddya say?”

“Really? Oh, yes please! That’s very sweet of you to think of us…”

“It’s not much really. Here, can you turn around so I can adjust your apron?”

Cosmo patiently did as you said, waiting as you secured the warm orange bow around his back. He only turned around again under your gentle pulling motions so you could smooth out his apron.

“And…this might be a bit hot, but please bear with me. It’s caramel after all.”

You took the bottle from the stand next to you, making a quick drizzle motion so it lined perfectly on top of his head.

You poured a little sauce on your hand to dab on his cheeks, then wiped your hands off and leaned down to get the perfect angle to place the stars in, sticking your tongue out as you worked.

He didn’t tear up or hiss at how hot it is though, he seemed to let out a sigh and…melt?

…He actually looked pretty content.

“Warm…”

I guess that confirms it.

Flutter: “Vibrant Monarch”

“Be still, I’m almost done.”

Flutter nervously flapped her wings, slapping you in the face every so often and nearly knocking you out of your chair.

“Please Flutter, the paint will be blurry and won’t look good if you keep moving.”

“...!!!”

“I know you don’t like standing, but you need to right now! You can fly all you want when I’m done.”

“...!”

“Thank you.”

She lightly tapped the floor with her foot as if testing the waters, flinching every so often, before she set both feet on the ground and stood stiffly, anxiously waiting for you to finish.

Goob: “Special Spaghetti”

“I want to commit cannibalism on myself.”

“What-”

Goob: “Fun Partygoer”

“Ooooooh, I get a party hat too??”

“Yes you do Goob, let- let me- adjust it please-! Please stOp BOunCIng!“

“Sorry, I’m just so excited to see how I look!”

“I get it I get it, but pleas-!”

The party hat crumpled under a particularly high jump.

“...”

“...”

You sat down, head in your hands and started crying.

“WAIT NONONO Y/N I-!”

Glisten: “Warm Sweater”

(Based off my opinion! I love blue and white, but THE MAKEUP RAAAAA-)

“I still think the eyeshadow is a bit much.”

“Well, I don’t!”

“But you say you look good no matter what you wear, right…?”

“...Yes…”

“So you shouldn’t have a problem with no eyeshadow because it’ll look just as good!”

“But I- you-!”

“End of conversation.”

(Glisten somehow convinced you to give him back his makeup)

Gigi: “Rainy Day”

“But I don’t waaaaaannaaaaa!”

“Gigi, it’s still an oversized sweater. You’re basically just changing the color of it and adding some drawstrings, okay?”

“Noooooooooo…but…b-but…”

“Yeah I know what a butt is, you have one yourself. Now give me that―”

You yanked the sweater out of her hands, cutting yourself off as you stumbled back, “―Thank you!”

Quickly checking for rips and finding nothing, you let out a sigh of relief, then immediately raised your hand in the air to avoid her grabbing ones.

“Nooooooo, gimme it back!”

You sighed again, walking over to the dresser―well, as best you could with a whiny Gigi trying to trip you― and pulled out a yellow sweater with a hood.

Placing her old clothes on a high shelf so she couldn’t reach it, you turned and picked her up, setting her down to sit on the edge of the dresser and pulled the yellow sweater over her head.

Her crying instantly stopped and she snuggled down into it, content. You let out another(she’s a handful to deal with) sigh and sat down next to her, petting her head.

Sprout: “Salted Caramel”

“And you’re sure that you’ll be fine?”

“Yes, Y/n! Now just do it!”

You hesitantly poured the bucket of caramel on him, covering half of his face bit by bit while also making sure not to get the petals wet.

You let out a sigh of relief as the last drop dripped from the container, making a quiet plip sound as it joined the rest of the warm sauce.

The rest of it settled on the tarp below, collecting in a puddle that stained his feet orange. You’d have to clean him later.

He reached up a hand, messing with the caramel on his face before you slapped his hand away.

“No! I’ll have to put a new coating on you if you mess with it.”

He simply chuckled in response, “Not like I’d mind.”

Vee: “Cosmic Signal”

You sighed in relief as you checked over her mic, making sure there weren’t any scratches.

“Okay…finally done. Oof, that took a lot out of me.”

“I can tell. Making 25 different costumes that actually look good isn’t exactly an easy job.”

You perked up upon hearing this.

“So you DO like Scraps' costume!”

“What!? I-”

“I’m joking, I already know.”

She just glared at you and looked to the side.

[goldenamaranthe-blog]

Who Dares Summon Me: Human Vaggie & Charlie

Vaggie: (sitting in the living room of a piece of shit apartment and reading from a "demon summoning" book. the sound of gunfire and police sirens barely even registers to her ears anymore)

Vaggie: Okay, so I got the Pentagram, a goat (glances at two goat plushies she stole from a name brand toy store) Fuckers will live..... they make millions in a day.

Vaggie: Candles... (glances at the Bath & Body Works, cinnamon and vanilla scented candles)

Vaggie: And... blood.... uh.... (Looks at the bucket filled with water, corn syrup, red food coloring, and cocoa powder to help create a blood effect) Fuck... demons can tell the difference between real and fake blood, right? Dammit.

Vaggie: (cuts her finger with her pocket knife and lets] a few drops fall into the bucket) There. That should work. Now, let's see-

Lute: (comes out of her room half naked and throws a pair of panties at Vaggie) Yo, Vagina! Adam stole your underwear again as a prank, I guess. Here.

Vaggie: (gawks as she catches the garment and spikes it to the floor) Lute! What the fuck?! Can't you control your fucking boyfriend??? How did he even get into my room?! I keep it locked for that reason.

Lute: (grabs a beer out of the fridge, pops the cap off on the counter, starts chugging, and flips off Vaggie as she returns to her room for whatever round she and Adam are on)

Vaggie: Sick perverted sons of bitches... (turns back to the book) Read the forbidden script and make a pact. (Scoffs) Okay, edge lords. I'll give it a go.

Vaggie: (recites the script with some difficulty)

..........

Vaggie: (relaxes her back against the couch) Can't say I'm surprised. I literally bought this online for six-

-Fire tornado erupts from the Pentagram and burning red eyes stare down at Vaggie from the inferno-

Demon Charlie: WHO dares summon the powerful Princess of Hell- Oh, fuck!!! (Trips over the bucket and falls face first into Vaggie's lap, revealing that she is wearing a red dress with black thigh high stockings)

Vaggie: Jesus Fucking Christ!!!

Demon Charlie: (face still pressed against Vaggie's crotch) You have a very comfortable lap.

Vaggie: (grabs demon's horns and pulls her up so they're sitting in front of each other) You're actually a demon?

Demon Charlie: (blinks) Considering the fact that you're still holding my horns, I have this adorable little tail (waves her heart-shaped tail in hello), and I came straight up from Hell because of your summoning circle. Yup! (Sees the plushies and gasps) Oh! You even gave Razzle and Dazzle their own conduits! You're so sweet!

Vaggie: ...........Who?

Demon Charlie: Razzle and Dazzle! You know. My pets. It's written in chatper six, paragraph five, sentence three. (Snaps her fingers and the two goat plushies turn into two living goat demons with wings)

Vaggie: (scouring the book) What?!

Demon Charlie: (snuggling her boys) Also, I know you had to use a little of your own blood to make this work, which I promise to help heal that cut on your finger by the way, but Thank You So Much for just using fake blood! I always feel so bad when people actually use a bucket of real blood. I usually let my dad take those summonings.

Vaggie: (glances at the bucket rolling across the floor then back to the demon) Y-Youre dad?

Demon Charlie: Lucifer, the King of Hell. (Light bulb goes off) Oh! I never completed my introduction! I'm Charlie Morningstar, Princess of Hell and heir to the throne. Pleased to meet you!

Vaggie: Uh.... Vaggie.... I never would have expected the Princess of Hell to be so..... bubbly....

Demon Charlie: I get that a lot. Now! What can I do for you? How can I help? Do you need money? Power? A soul you'd like for me to devour?

Vaggie: N-No... nothing quite like that....

Demon Charlie: Oh, thank Satan! I hate eating souls. Most of them taste so bad!

Vaggie: Uh-huh.... Well.... I don't really have anything for you. I got bored and decided I'd try this out...

Demon Charlie: (disappointed) Really? But you sold me your virginity. Surely, there's something you want in exchange!

Vaggie: I'm sorry. WHAT?!?!?!?!?!?

Demon Charlie: Drop of virgin blood and (holds up Vaggies lavender panties) an article of clothing that covers your most intimate desire.

Vaggie: (silently screaming)

Demon Charlie: H-Hey! If it makes you feel any better, I'm still a virgin, too! (Under her breath) Not from lack of trying on other asshole's accunts, but still....

Vaggie: Ay, Dios mio!

Demon Charlie: Well, I can't take your payment until you come up with something you want, soooooooo! (Transforms into a human)

Charlie: (snuggles up to Vaggie's side) I'll just have to stay here with you until you come up with something!

Vaggie: (catatonic)

[alastor-simp]

Burnt Out😞 - Alastor x Reader

(We all had one of these days, come on raise your hand 🖐🏻🙋🏻)

Sighhhhhhhhh…it was gonna be one of those days. It was another day in the Hazbin Hotel. Everyone was up and about in the morning, either doing one of Charlie’s exercises or just going about doing their own thing, except you. Laying on your bed, tangled up in blankets, you felt emotionally and physically drained. It was another one of your burnt out sessions. They would come and go, some days being mild and others being rough. Just wasn’t in the mood for anything anymore, so staying in bed and getting through it was a better option.

You made sure to text Charlie that you weren’t going to head down in the lobby and you were gonna stay in your room. She knew about your burnt out days and made sure that you were left alone, but sent Razzle and Dazzle to bring you some food, to make sure you were eating. It was nice that she cared so much, you honestly felt like a burden like this, but Charlie had a heart of gold and wanted to give you the time to feel better. Squishing your face into the pillow, you just stared in the corner of your darken room, letting your mind wonder. They were soon interrupted by a rhythmic knock at the door. Ah, it must be Razzle and Dazzle bringing you breakfast. Turning around on your bed, facing the other way, you yelled out "Come in".

They were both pretty silent, as they didn't really converse a lot with anyone, but they were friendly. Something felt strange as instead of the flapping of wings, there was a hint of static in the air. Huh? Suddenly, your bed shook as someone had taken a sit on it. "Why good morning, my dear! Why are you still in bed? Up and at em!" A static voice rang in the room, causing your body to jump. Turning your head to the side, you spotted a smiling red demon looking down at you. "Al? What are you doing here?" Turning your body back around, you continued to lay with your head on the pillow, eyes gazing up to look at Alastor. His piercing eyes were looking down at you, as his mouth was stretched wide, smiling like a jester. "I noticed your lack of presence when I was in the lobby with the other riff-raff. Charlie kindly told me you were still residing in your room, so I decided to pay a visit! He was still seated on your bed, legs crossed with his hands on his lap. His signature microphone was laying against the bed. "Ah I see" you said as you looked down, going back to staring at the corner of the room again. Alastor raised an eyebrow, pondering your lack of emotion.

Raising both of his hands, he placed his fingers to your lips, moving them up to form a smile. "My dear, its not very productive to be lying in bed and being grummy. Come now, gimme a big smile!" Alastor continued to smile down at you, still holding your lips up. You just gazed up at him, eyes devoid of any emotion, which put off Alastor for a bit. Moving your head side to side, you were able to shake off Al's hands on your face, placing it back against the pillow. "I'm not sad Alastor." Heaving a sigh, your eyes were just staring off into space. "Alastor tilted his head at you, confused at the whole situation. "If you are not sad, then why is there still a frown formed on your lips?" Alastor continued to stare at you, waiting patiently for your answer. Honestly, you expected him to be laughing at your situation, since he enjoyed the suffering of others. His eyes were a dead give away to how he was really feeling, and the eyes that peered down at you were filled with confusion, but also concern.

Heaving a sigh, you lifted your body up, sitting instead of laying, with the blanket still wrapped behind you. "Just feeling a little burnt out at the moment." There was a bit of awkward silence, as neither of you said another word. Al was still looking at you, but his head was tilted again. "Burnt out? Was there a fire in the hotel that occurred during my afternoon stroll?" Al questioned, while inching closer to you, looking to see for any burn marks on you. Heh, that earned a chuckle out of you. Laughing for a bit, you shook your head. "No no there wasn't a fire yesterday Al. Have you never felt burnt out before?" Your question earned a head shake from Al. Figures he had no clue what that meant. This man was giddy as could be everyday. "I'm afraid I have never heard of it before, my dear! Care to enlighten me?"

He inched a bit closer, waiting for your response. Looking down, your mind tried to piece together the correct way to explain it to him. "Well, being burnt out is just my body and mind feeling overloaded with stress, yet instead of being anxious, I become detached. I don't feel depressed nor am I being lazy, but I just feel like an empty shell, like all of my feelings are just sapped away, leaving behind nothing. I don't feel any motivation to do the things I usually enjoy doing. My body is exhausted yet I'm unable to fall asleep. I told Charlie that I get like this some days, so whenever I have an episode, I stay in my room, especially since when I'm burnt out, I kinda wanna isolate myself from everyone. It is a bit confusing to explain, so I hope I was able to narrow it down for you." Finishing your little speech, your lips drew into a tiny smile as your eyes gazed at Alastor.

His eyes were still looking at you with concern, his signature smile turned into a small grin. One of his gloved hands raised to your head, stroking it. "I appreciate the explanation, darling. But, it is detrimental to your health to be staying like this." Rolling your eyes at his words, you flopped back down, smooshing your face against the pillow, lifting the blanket to cover your face. "I'll be fine Al. Don't worry about me. I'm sure you must have stuff to get done especially since you're doing more broadcasts, so don't spend all day worrying about me.”

He didn’t say anything back, so you assumed he just used his powers to teleport out of your room. “Wanna hear a joke about paper? He said in an excited tone. What the hell? Peaking your eyes out, Alastor was still sitting on your bed, smiling down at you, teeth flashing at you. “Um no?” Raising an eyebrow, you wondered what brought this up. Alastor began to chuckle at your response, “Oh that’s fine it’s tear-able!” A laugh track then erupted from his microphone. Staring at Al, you let out a soft chuckle, shaking your head. "It was terrible." Alastor made a face, like he was offended, but you knew he was just being dramatic. "Ahh well how about this one? What do you call a bear with no teeth?" Tilting your head, you thought about it before shrugging saying you didn't know. "A gummy bear! AHAHAHAHAHA!" He burst into fits of laughter, clearly very amused with his joke.

That was a better one, you thought as you let out a chuckle. Alastor had ventured further up your bed, sitting closer next to you, with his back against the headboard. "Lets see...Ah! What did the ocean say to the sailor?" Gazing up at Al, who was wearing a goofy smile, you laughed a bit before asking what did the ocean say. "Oh nothing my dear, it just waved!" Hehehe...these jokes were so corny that they made you laugh. Little by little, your mood began to improve a bit, the feelings of emptiness were lifting a bit. Getting up, you sat wrapped around your blanket, copying Alastors position. "I have a joke for you." Alastor's ears perked up, leaning in, ready to hear the joke. "Why did the deer go the dentist?" Alastor leaned back, placing a finger under his chin, thinking of the answer. "Hmmm...not sure my dear." Smiling widely, you said, "It had buck teeth." Alastor just stared at you wide eyed, before he burst into fits of laughter, causing the whole bed to shake. It took him a minute to calm down, before he turned back to you. "Haven't heard that one before! Another one to add to my collection!" He gazed at you, while whipping his eyes of the tears caused by how hard he was laughing. "Glad you liked it. Here's another one. What happens when a doctor gets frustrated?" Al's smile grew, very pleased that you had more jokes. "What happens, my dear?" "Well sadly, they lose their patients."

Oh that one really got to him. Al's head flew back in laughter, as he was kicking his legs, along with holding his stomach. You soon followed after him, laughing at his reaction and the joke. Soon the both of you calmed down. Al was taking deep breaths, having lost it from cackling with laughter. His eyes had pin pricks of tears as well, which he was wiping away. "Pant...pant...that was splendid, my dear!" Alastor was gazing into your eyes, smiling kindly at you. Smiling back, you told him that you were happy he liked the jokes. Al's hand slowly moved and placed itself on your cheek. "Feeling more yourself now, my dear?" He rubbed your cheek with his finger, causing you to lean into it. "A bit yeah." Al's eyes were tender. Quite a sight to see, since he never shows that side of him to anyone.

Removing his hand from your face, he raised his hand to snap his fingers. A tray had appeared on your lap. On the tray was a plate of pancakes, your favorite, along with a glass of orange juice and a bowl of strawberries. "Eat up, my dear! Can't have you being starved!" Al smiled at you, leaning back against the head board. Smiling, you dug in, humming happily with how amazing it tasted. His kindness made your heart ache. He was such a mystery, one side he was the feared radio demon, who enjoyed murder and gore, while the other was the Alastor you knew, a goofy man who loved jazz and cooking dishes his mother use to make. Two sides of a same coin, but you like both of them, as long as the murder and gore weren't aimed at you and your friends.

Flushing, you inched a bit closer to Al, who eyed you with curiosity. Slowly, you leaned your head against his shoulder, eyes still focusing on the breakfast, as you would feel super embarrassed to look him in the eye. His body tensed from the contact, having not expected that from you. His eyes were locked on you, eyebrow raised. "Thank you, Alastor." Whispering out a response, you continued to shyly look down, while nibbling on a strawberry. The tension had left his body, and he had leaned into you a bit. He wore a soft smile on his face, as he leaned his head back to place against the board. His hand then placed itself on top of yours, giving it a soft squeeze. "Anytime, my dear!"

~END~

Tagging:

@pepperycookie , @yourdoorisunlocked, @ghostdoodlen, @aceofcards0-0, @jyoongim, @saturnhas82moons, @unholycheesesnack , @luujjvi, @forbidden-sunlight, @pinkcrystal44 , @veethewriter , @rains-sleeping @danveration , @demoarah, @cookiekyo , @iiotic, @delectableworm , @91062854-ka , @alastorsgoldie , @lokis-imaginary-friend , @themysteriousslenderman , @huntlowfan , @pawstrey , @futureittomainn , @christinaatyourservice92 , @littledolly2345 , @just-trash-yeah-thats-it , @angelinevalentine89

[kelppsstuff]

I NEED part two of that cheating Adam fic

That actually made me cry and I desperately want that asshole to get what he deserves

..but what if Lucifer got to wife? Obviously, our dear ruler of hell seems to still be attached to Lilith, considering the ring he's still wearing, so what do you think will happen if he meets reader?

Omggggg, I’m so glad you enjoyed it! And yes Adam shall get what’s coming! And I hope you enjoy this chapter as well! Make sure to take care of your self and have a good day! 💛

“How long.” Part two

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | ALT ENDING

Masterlist

Taglist: @leathesimp @need-a-life-or-grass @biggdaddylonglegs @lululucii @pawstrey @lanny-fanny223 @goseew @adamsfavoritesinner

—

You had spent the five months crying at Emily home. Lilies would show up, your favorite flower. It made your heart ache even more. No matter where you go you couldn’t get far enough away from him.

Sera walked into the guest room you were staying. She looked over you as she thought of her next words. She was sure you would take the job, but would this be better for you? She didn’t know.

“Adam gave the go ahead of princess morningstar’s hotel.” You looked up from under the covers, interested in what she had to say. “We will need someone to overwatch the hotel. No one wants to go and I thought I would ask you.”

You took a breath, but even that felt caged. You were happy Sera gave you this choice of a job. “I’ll do it. Thank you Sera.”

—

You packed all the necessary things, and waited for the portal to hell to open. When you did walk through the portal you looked up at the red sky. As if the clouds were full of blood.

You extended your wings and started to take off where you could see the ‘Hazbin Hotel’ stand. You didn’t want to walk and risk anything bad. Sure you can hide your wings, but not your halo.

When you landed in front of the door, you admit you did feel nervous. You knocked on the door and a woman who had blonde hair and pink rosy checks opened the door. “Uhhh Vaggie!” Her voice was light but strong. Very admirable it felt like.

“Yes?!” Another stern female voice called out through the hotel. “There’s a angel at out door.” She looked to be panicking, so you smile I hope it’ll ease her nerves. I heard running before I saw her face. “What do you want Extermination isn’t for another month.”

“I suppose I should explain now. Adam.” Fuck saying his name hurt. “Has given the hotel a go ahead. The head seraphim sent me to overlook it.”

(Your pov)

The blonde grew stars in her eyes. She grabbed my wrist and immediately started to pull me throughout the entire hotel. “I have to give you a quick tour for now unfortunately. But my dad’s on the way and when he gets here I’ll give you a better tour with him.” She showed me the bar, and lounge that was pretty much it until there was a knock on the door.

“Okay that’s my dad everyone!” Everybody started to get in formation it seemed like. I leaned over to the deer who started to walk into the entry way. “Who’s that girls name?”

He smiled wide and me. “Why Charlie my good fellow.” Charlie? As in Charlotte. As in Morningstar. AS IN LUCIFER?! Oh my god. Before I could panic the doors opened and a shorter man gave Charlie a hug.

“Oh Charlie it is so good to see you!” He spoke with a smile as he let her go. He smiled at him and showed case the entrance. “Welcome to the Hazbin Hotel!” Confetti flew and conveniently it got all over me. Great. Charlie looked panicked for a second, but I payed no mind and I snapped my fingers, carefully getting rid of all of it.

Lucifer looked to the cat that was purring and walking through his legs. He bent down and had a baby voice. “Oh hey little Kiki.” Cute. He then looked to the two flying lambs. “Razzle n Dazzle. Aweee look how much you haven’t grown. Still fun size.” Can he be talking?

I turned my attention back to the deer who smiled menacingly towards the king of hell. I walked up to him and Lucifer started to check out the place. I placed my hand out to him and smiled. “My names Y/N.” The deer turned his head away from Lucifer and turned his smile to me, though it was less terrifying. “Alastor! Quite a pleasure darling, quiet a pleasure!” Maybe it wouldn’t hurt to have a few friends down here?

“I like your voice.”

“Yes, it’s quite perfect for my rad—“

“WHAT IN THE UNHOLY HELL IS THAT?!” I see our king has found the bar. Alastor smile tightened and he teleported through the shadows to where Lucifer was standing. “Just some of the renovations we had done. As a little color don’t you think?”

Lucifer eye brow rise as he asked, “and you are?” I walked over to one of the cookies as Alastor responded. “Alastor, quite a pleasure. You are much shorter than I expected.” I started to choke on the cookie. Bringing attention to me. “I-I’m fine.” I saw Lucifer eyes widen in panic. But he ignored me. For now.

“Is this the bellhop?” He pointed to the deer. “Of course not, I’m the host. You probably heard of me through my radio broadcasts.”

He put his hand to his chin and said “NOPE! I guess that’s why Charlie called in the Hazbin hotel. Ha! Ha! Ha!”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! It was actually my idea.”

“Ha! Ha! Ha! Well it’s not very clever.”

“Ha! Ha! Fuck. You.”

This is exactly what I needed. Pure entertainment.

—

As we started to get our hotel tour, Alastor got held up by some cat, and Charlie got distracted with Vaggie. Giving Lucifer the perfect time to talk to me. “Why are you here? Are these people so dense they can’t tell your an angel?”

I raised my brow, I see why Adam said he was a dick. “If you must know, Heaven gave the go ahead to the hotel just today?” Lucifer eyes widened. “What? How?”

“I believe it was your good friend Adam who gave the order.” His eyes narrowed as he looked at me.

“And are you one of his exterminator pet?” Asshole. “No I’m his wife. Well actually I don’t know? Am I still his wife?” I started to go off, talking to myself completely blocking out Lucifer. A habit I’ve always had.

“Adam re-married?” Now I seemed to have a bit more of his interest. “Why do you care? Trying to go 3 for 3?” I said sarcastically.

“Would you like me too?” We both stopped walking. My eyes widened and when I slowly turned to look at him I noticed his did as well. “I’m sorry I didn’t mean that! Well like not in a like ‘that would never happen way’ but more like ‘it came naturally and unintentionally way.’ And fuck I should stop talking now shouldn’t I—?”

“Yes.” I could feel blood rising to my cheeks, giving me a golden glow. His eyes narrowed to my golden hue cheeks and for a moment I swear his eye had a sparkle, even just a second.

“You bleed gold.” He spoke after a long silence.

“I do.” I am an angel.

“I did too, look at that, we have something in common!” I raised my brow, it was the same tactic he gave his daughter.

“Like how you and your daughter both like girls?” Now it was my turn to see his golden hues.

—

Lucifer had decided to stay in the hotel to grow closer to Charlie. During the duration of the last three weeks we had also gotten closer. I had explained to him that Adam and I were no longer together even though I still wore our wedding ring.

It had been three weeks since I had been in heaven. Three weeks since I entered this hotel. I hadn’t thought too much about Adam in my stay here. Though it appeared today was the day I broke tradition.

Me and Adam had spent years on years on years together. I missed his golden eyes, and I missed his stupid humor, and I had missed him. That made his betrayal all the worse. Every-time I missed him, the memory of him and Lilith came. It wasn’t fair to me. Why was I tormented because I was a faithful wife?

I suppose my saddening thought were clear on my face. “What’s wrong?” Lucifer asked, sitting on the bed next to me. We were in his room, he was making ducks while I became self-depressed. “It’s a long story.” He smiled in understanding, “good thing I have an eternity with nothing better to do.”

“You know me and Adam are no longer together.” He nodded his head at the un-new information. “But you don’t know why.” I cleared my throat and began to tell him. “Adam had cheated on me with Lilith for seven years. And he talks about how sinners could never come to heaven, and yet he let her through the gates himself.” I rushed out the words, but as Lucifer’s eyes widened I knew he heard me.

“Lil-Lilith is in heaven?” His voice broke. “Didn’t you know?” The whole reason I never mentioned her was because I had thought he knew all this time.

He shook his head as tears began to form in his eyes. He loved Lilith and he still does. I didn’t doubt for a second he needed comfort.

I wrapped my hand around him and brung him in for a hug. He clung to me and cried. The only word he spoke was ‘why?’. The same question I had asked since the minute I found out.

“DAD?!” Charlie knocked on the door frantically. We immediately situated ourselves and when he opened the door, we look good as usual. “Yes, Charlie?”

She was panting but her words came out clear as day. “The extermination is still on, and it’s happening next week!”

What the actual fuck?!

—

We got a meeting set up with Heavens high court the next day. I was surprised they allowed Lucifer through the gates as well. The only rule was people of heaven couldn’t know it was him, so he couldn’t go introducing himself as, ‘hi I’m Lucifer, ruler of hell. Your are?’

We walked behind Vaggie and Charlie as Emily and Saint Peter showed everyone around heaven.

Lucifer looked around all the building and shined a big bright smile my way. It was nice to see that sparkle in his eyes, especially when it was so rare too. I was to busy talking with Lucifer I hadn’t even noticed we passed Adam and Lute.

(Third POV)

Adam spat out his drink as he saw Y/N and Lucifer walking smiling at each other. The fuck was HIS wife doing walking that fucking duck-Imp face?

“What the fuck is he doing here?” He asked Lute as if she had all the answers. “I don’t know what they’re doing here sir.”

“It doesn’t even matter, I’m fucking ending this shit now. No way is he getting her.” Adam went to go after them but Lute grabbed ahold of him. “Do you want a fight between first man and the devil in the middle of heaven?!” Adam didn’t even need to think about it the answer was yes.

“Better than waiting for the fucking extermination.” Lute was quick to sush Adam. “What was the extermination one rule?” Adam grounded out like a child. “No one but the exterminators can know about it.” He took a long sip of his drink before speaking up again. “Don’t fucking sush me bitch.”

A light formed behind him, revealing Sera. “You should listen to her more often Adam, maybe then you’d still have your wife.” Sera didn’t know the details only that Adam cheated and Lute tried to stop him. “Fuck Sera you can’t sneak up on a guy like that. Also don’t bring her into this.”

Sera rolled her eyes. “Lucifer set up a meeting for his misguided daughter. I want you to put an end to her silly beliefs.”

Adam shook his head to the taller angel. “No can do, I don’t want Y/N mad at me for the rest of eternity.” Sera glared down at the first man. “You’ll do this unless you want Y/N banished. With Lucifer.”

Rage came across Adam eyes at Sera’s threat, but his mask did a good job in hiding it. “I’ll handle it.” His voice was so cold, even Sera got nervous. She obviously didn’t mean she would actually banish Y/N but it was one of the only ways to get Adam to do his work.

— (Y/N pov) —

I laid on the bed as me and Lucifer walked in our shared room. We had gotten to rooms in the hotel. One for Charlie and Vaggie. The other for me and Lucifer. We wouldn’t be staying the night, so it wasn’t like we were sleeping in the same bed.

“She’s here, Y/N.” Lucifer voice filled the silence. “What should I do?” His voice was soft and his expression was delicate.

“You should go see her.” I may not like the woman but he still does love her. “If you don’t you may regret it.” His eyes drifted away from me and to the window. “Everything is so much different now. I wouldn’t even know where to look.” I couldn’t help him. I didn’t know where she lived. The only reason I knew Adam was with her was because of Lute. Though I swore I wouldn’t sell her out.

“Do you miss it here?” Dumb question, but a reasonable one to ask. “Yeah. I miss seeing the good.” I turned his head to me and looked into his beautiful crimson eyes. “You see it everyday in the mirror.”

I don’t know who leaned in first. I don’t know who kissed who first but I knew we were kissing. And I knew I liked it.

A knock pulled us away from each other I hurried to open the door, thinking Charlie needed something. But my suspicions were wrong as Adam walked past me and into the room. He looked to me and even with his mask on I could see the fury in his eyes. He turned to Lucifer and that when I saw it. My lipstick had smudge on his lips. My eyes widened as Lucifer stood up. Adam gave him one more glance, and I for sure thought he was going to try and kill him, but he didn’t. Instead he gave him a little paper as he turned his body to me and kept his eyes on me the whole time he spoke.

“That’s the address you’ll find Lilith.” Lucifer was about to speak up but Adam cut him off. His voice still calm as ever, but I knew the wrath behind his voice. “You don’t have long until court. I suggest you get a move on while I have a talk with my own wife.”

Lucifer looked to me and I nodded my head. He needed to see Lilith, to at least get closure. He gave one last glance to Adam and walked out the door.

“What do you want?” My voice was shaky even though I tried to harden it. “What do I want?” His voice still calm as he started to walk to me. “I want you back home. I want you back in my bed when I wake up. I want you at my concerts cheering me on again. I want your smile. I want every part of you.” He backed me into the wall and put his hands on my cheek. “And trust me my love. I will have what I want.” I closed my eyes as he rested his head against mine.

“Why are you here. I said I needed time and space.” My voice still in a whisper.

“I gave you six moths, and as for space, you want to hell. Not sure you can get farther than that.” He did have a point, but I still didn’t know how I felt anymore. “I came to tell you, that Sera wants me to end this hotel. At any cost.” The one thing I asked for is what he’s about to end.

“And you’ll just do it no questions asked? Of course.” I scoffed, rolling my eyes. I tried to move my head out of his hands but they tightened.

“Yes. No questions asked, because it’s your banishment on the line. I will face god himself for you. I would do anything to keep you happy and safe, so if I have to make you hate me while doing so? So be it.” He says sternly making sure to look in my eyes. Good talk for someone who cheated.

“You cheated. You don’t get to act like you care now.” I pushed him away and started to walk to the window looking out it, rather than him. “I do care. More than anything.”

“And while I’ve been away? How many vista have you given Lilith? Or any other girl for that matter?” He couldn’t go one day without getting his dick wet.

“Unless I went to the office, I’ve been at home. Ask Sera.”

“You cheated. YOU CHEATED! How am I supposed to forgive you for that?” Adam slowly shook his head. “And while you’ve been away, how many visits have you given Lucifer?” He had a right to assume considering my lipstick was still smudged, I’ll admit that.

“He treats me good!” He had became someone I could rely on. “I treat you good. Yes I fucked up. Not a day goes by that I don’t hate myself for it. And even if you do forget and forgive, I’ll still hate myself. I promise you, I feel more disgusted than you ever could.” He grabbed my hand and showed me my wedding ring. “But you see that babe? we promised through lows and highs we’d make it through. Together.”

I felt like crying, he had a point. We vowed to be together no matter what. But he was unfaithful, he broke those vows first. I couldn’t forgive that. Ever.

“We’ll talk again. I promise. I’ll see you in court.” He kisses my hand with my ring finger. “I love you.” And he walked out. Leaving me alone with nothing but my thoughts.

Why did I miss Adam already?

How is Lucifer doing with Lilith?

Me and Lucifer kissed.

How will court go?

Can we win the trial?

Fuck what now?

—

HIIIIIIIII! So I will say that the first time writing this it got deleted. Sooo I’m sorry if it feels a little rushed. I had also gotten another request so I may come out with that one before the next and final part, or I may not. I really hope you enjoyed this part as I had a lot of fun writing it.

- kelp 💛

Taglist

[katiekatdragon27]

Hey can you stop cooking with your ships and art? I can't eat it all and I want to hoard it!!

(positive btw! Keep up the great work - 🪣!)

Awwwww!! Don't you worry, you'll have plenty of food for the winter with me as your chef (I say after starving y'all for like two weeks sorry chat I've been traveling).

Since I have been working on some projects n stuff, I haven't been doodling as much. However, I managed to scrap this together for y'all to chew on while I cook some other stuff lol.

THEIR SHIP NAME IS FLAMING FASHION FRENZY NOW I'VE DECIDED I'M THE CEO OF THIS SHIP I WILL TAKE NO ARGUMENTS AGAINST THS ARRANGEMENT!!!

I was inspired by a reflectivedetective ship chart for all the doodling on the page. I don't remember who made it, but if someone knows them lmk please🙏🙏

Below are close-ups of the doodles n stuff:

(If anything is hard to read, feel free to ask me what it says)

This was so fun to do. Can you tell who is the Hallmark PDA couple and who's the couple who bickers like an old married couple all the time?

Shrimpo and Razzle don't know this, but Glisten is trying to set the two up together so they can be an official throuple. The only person who knows this is Dazzle, who is also in on it lol (she just wants Razzle and Shrimpo to stop fighting all the time).

Also thank you @/rainbow-wolf120 for all the feedback regarding Razzle, Dazzle, and Shrimpo's dialog. Had to consult the expert for them.

And here are some close ups of their pfps. I worked hard on them, and I wanna show them off.

If you read all this and support my vision, ily let's get married platonically /lh

Have a good one fellas!!