#this chapter... bane of my existance

[starkspi]

From "Managerial Liberties" on AO3 by @miribalis (where they collect fallen angels like shiny Pokémon at the hotel), it makes me really happy (and has my heart).

[myokk]

clumsy

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 9,1k

summary: sebastian is clumsy

cw: fluff, mutual pining, idiots in love, two really stubborn idiots in love to be exact, sir cadogan guest appearance, anne and imelda are the gremlin best friends every girl needs, smut (18+ ONLY), oral (f. recieving)

a/n: or: two stubborn brats make things more difficult than they have to be. I've been working on this for a MONTH more or less, ever since I drew the sketch that inspired it🫶 (I'm the world's slowest writer)

The first time Sebastian Sallow interacted with her after the fateful events of their fifth year, he fell for her.

Quite literally.

Maybe fell on her is more aptly put - Sebastian Sallow is not one to mince his words or say what he doesn't mean, after all. But, in the years to come, he always insists that he fell in love in that moment.

It was inexplicable. One moment, he was walking around, perfectly content with his loveless, boring life, and the next, his every waking moment was painful. Nobody had ever told Sebastian that being in love would physically pain or consume him so.

It all started like this: one moment, he's walking (well, striding) to Crossed Wands. Fine, he's running. Running late already, for the first meet-up of his last year. But - he isn't to blame for being late. He needed to check on something in the library - during his Transfiguration lesson, he had a hunch about something Professor Weasley had said in passing, and of course he had to go and check to see if he was right before he could even think about besting Leander in the inaugural duel of the Crossed Wands season but now, with how late he is - how many minutes ago had it started? - oh, Merlin, it's already been ten whole minutes and what if they've started without him (not that he can blame them) and -

Sebastian is abruptly pulled out of his thoughts when he collides with a strange obstruction in his way. He was just checking his father's old pocket watch, had only looked away for a split second and he could have sworn that, unless he was mistaken (which he never is), there wasn't a statue in the middle of the suspension bridge. And yet, he has run headfirst into something or someone, and now they are both flying through the air, books whirling around them in a flurry of pages and Sebastian unconsciously puts his arms out to grab her before they hit the ground and now he's holding her tight against him and they land with a loud, ungraceful thud, but at least she's not hurt.

Sebastian shakes his head to clear it after the impact that - miraculously - doesn't seem to have been as bad as it could have been, all things considered, and -

He freezes.

What has he done?

He's pressed up against the most impossibly lovely person he has ever seen quite possibly in his life, holding her tightly in his arms as she glares up at him in indignation, a faint flush spreading across her cheeks, making her face glow. Is this what the muggles mean when they say that they were struck by Cupid's arrow? Her hands scrabble uselessly at his chest as she tries to extricate herself from his grip. It's useless. Sebastian is completely frozen in place as he stares down at her, and he can feel his own face heating up at his inability to get off her. What's wrong with him?

"Sebastian," she repeats, and this time her voice registers in his brain. He realizes she has been talking to him this whole time, and as he stares at her face without comprehending - he couldn't have a coherent thought right now even if he wanted to - he sees her eyes dart quickly down, looking at where their bodies meet before she brings them back to his face, a deeper blush coming over her. "You -"

Oh, Merlin. It's her. He blinks and it's like the fog has cleared from his mind - almost, but-not-quite - and he realizes who he has unceremoniously crashed to the ground with him. The spines of the textbooks they are lying on top of dig into the arm that's pinned under her body and his other hand...he realizes (to his almost-horror) that to any students or professors walking by, it would seem as if they were caught up in quite the scandalous extra-curricular activity because his other hand is actively caressing her breast. Well, that's how it would look to any passerby, anyways.

Because there is no way he would be caught dead in such a compromising position with her.

The two of them haven't spoken since the events of their fifth year - the Year-That-Shall-Not-Be-Remembered-or-Acknowledged - and he had been perfectly content with his plan to continue this strange sort of ignoring that they had played all last year. Both of them pretending that they hadn't become impossibly close after only knowing each other for a few months - a closeness that he had gone and ruined by not knowing when to quit. All he had known to do back then was push push push because why couldn't she see things the way he had? The betrayal he had felt when she had gone behind his back to find her own way to cure his sister, and that one stupid word uttered in the heat of the moment, had caused an irreparable rift in their relationship and he would not allow himself to think about how much he missed her. Still misses her.

Just like he will not think about the fact that she is pressed beneath him in a compromising position, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she glares up at him in indignation. He continues to stare at her. Maybe his mouth is agape. She's stopped trying to get out of his grip and is resting her hands on his chest, seemingly waiting for an opportunity to push him off of her.

"Sebastian. Your hand," she repeats. "You're -"

Finally his idiot brain decides to wake up and Sebastian realizes with horror just how aroused he is at the moment and how did he never see her like this before? He gets up in a flash, pushing her back against the pile of books they're lying on top of, wondering if he can subtly adjust his robes without her realizing and then he makes the very grave mistake of looking down at her and she's still very much red-faced, propping herself up by her elbows and she looks so disheveled and lovely lying on top of the pile of books.

His idiot brain has now woken up completely, and how is it possible for one hormonal, eighteen-year-old wizard to be so embarrassed? He knocked her to the ground, pushed her further back in the books in his desperate attempt to get away from her, and now all he can think about is how to hide his arousal. Shameful, really. Sebastian quickly crouches down to help her pick up all of the books but she shoves him away and glares at him with an annoyance that he's never seen before.

"I can do it myself, thank you very much," she says with a huff, gathering everything they spilled up into her arms. She grabs the book Sebastian is holding out of his hands and he inhales sharply at the touch of her fingers grazing his.

Did someone - Garreth, maybe - spike his pumpkin juice with Amortentia during lunch? It's the only explanation he can think of as he stares blankly down at her. How else would he find her so beautiful, so breathtaking, when the last time they had interacted, Ominis and Anne had had to act as intermediaries for the two of them?

"Well," she says finally, slinging her school bag over her shoulder once all of her books have been unceremoniously shoved inside of it, "it's been...nice seeing you again, Sallow. I hope you had a good summer holiday."

And with that, she quickly turns and walks away in the direction she had been coming from, leaving a very confused Sebastian behind. He watches her as she walks away and her long, swishing braid is the last thing he sees before the door closes behind her at the far end of the bridge.

Eventually, he gathers his wits and wanders away.

He does not go to the first Crossed Wands meeting that afternoon after all.

She has not had a full-night's sleep since he somehow cursed her mind and her thoughts a week ago, and she can feel herself slowly slipping into insanity. A curse is the only answer that makes sense, the only thing that gives a conceivable answer to all the wicked dreams she has been having since that moment, dreams that cause her to wake up sweaty and breathless and needing him in the middle of the night in a way she has never felt before. She has been an absolute mess, a disastrous version of her normally quite put-together self, and she is not happy about it.

He's sitting next to her now - they were partnered up by the evil Professor Onai in their first NEWT Divination class of the year - and she's holding herself rigidly, arms tight across her chest, in an attempt to not accidentally touch him. Lately, every single time they make fleeting eye contact across the table during breakfast, or when they pass each other in the hallways, a shiver runs down her spine at the unfamiliar look in his eyes and she has to avert her eyes before it's too much.

Divination has never been a favorite subject of hers - too impermeable for her tastes. She is only taking it at the NEWT level because, during her career counseling with Professor Ronen at the end of her fifth year, he had said that if she wanted to be an Unspeakable she couldn't just work with logic (a preposterous thought, but as a sixteen-year-old she hadn't seen any recourse in arguing with the Ministry's requirements). She supposedly needs to get comfortable with the intangible as well. It doesn't mean she has to enjoy it, though: she doesn't, and never will. The Divination classroom is dark and stuffy, tucked away in one of the highest towers of the castle, and the nauseating smell of incense always coats her nasal cavities long after the class has finished. She finds her thoughts getting muddled in the haze of candle smoke and swirling orbs on the shelves around her - magic somehow always feels thicker up here - and the presence of a certain someone whose knees keep brushing hers under the tiny table they're sharing, a certain someone who has - improbably, inconceivably, impossibly - hit a growth spurt that summer and now towers over her and had encompassed her completely when he knocked her to the ground, isn't helping her concentration at -

"This week, we are going to review everything we learned together last year," Professor Onai says, after the class had rearranged itself based on her instructions. Sebastian shoots a look at her as she shakes her head in an attempt to clear it and sits up straighter. She hopes that Onai's lecture will help her concentrate and clear her mind a bit. If she has something to focus on, to try and think of and remember, it will be better than him. Anything would be better than Sebastian. Onai gives an appraising look to each table before continuing her speech. "As your NEWTs are at the end of the year, we need to make sure you are as prepared as possible. Open your books to page two-hundred and thirty. Today we're going to review the art of palmistry. I should hope that you do not need the aid of your textbook to help interpret the lines in your partner's palm but in the case that you do -"

She chances a glance at Sebastian before getting out her copy of Divining the Undivinable from her bag and wishes she hadn't. He looks uncomfortably big sitting on the tiny tea chair across from her, barely any hints of the boy who had completely swept her away two years ago visible on the sharper planes of his face. When had he - had they - grown up?

Sebastian Sallow was - is - charming, and that had been her downfall. She had successfully avoided his charms the year before, and she wasn't going to let that happen this year, no matter how much her body rebelled against her mind and resolve. Because, as she reminds herself, Sebastian Sallow is also manipulative, and cold-hearted, and selfish.

"Well," she says archly, opening her book. She will not look at him. "I suppose I am still quite ignorant of the practice of Divination, so do forgive me if I have to double-check my readings in the textbook."

He says her name as she opens the book, and she ignores him. He says her name again. She continues to ignore him. He grabs the book from her hands and puts it the correct way for her. She was looking at it upside-down. Her cheeks heat up and she continues flipping through the pages, as if nothing has happened. She finds page two-hundred and thirty. She pretends to be interested in what she sees.

(Divination is unfortunately not interesting.)

Oh, fine.

"Do you want to start, or should I?"

These are the first words she has voluntarily spoken to him - not including the events of last week, which do not count as they were most decidedly not voluntary - since he called her ignorant a year and a half ago. He somehow looks surprised to see that she has addressed him, and for some reason this fills her with rage and a strange sort of confidence. Why shouldn't she be able to talk to him?

"Here," she says, putting her hand out towards him, palm up, ignoring the strange fluttering feeling in her chest when he gently grabs it with one of his. Sebastian looks up at her, waiting for her to continue speaking, and were she not looking at him so intently she would have easily missed the bob of his throat as he swallows nervously. "Show me how it's done."

Her breath catches in her throat at the small, mischievous smirk he shoots to her before he bends over her hand and gently starts tracing the lines on her palm with the fingers of the hand that's not holding hers in place. His touch is feather-light and somehow soft, despite the roughness of his fingers as they drag over her palm. Every nerve in her body seems to have moved to wherever he touches and all of the bravado and anger she had just felt is quickly melting away. When she finally finds her voice, she hates how soft and breathy it sounds. She can't look away from the sight of his larger hands caressing hers.

"Well? What do you see? Do you remember the different lines? Because I -"

She falters. The murmurs of their classmates blend together in the background and the dim lights of the candles...the hazy, thick atmosphere and his proximity and the barely there touches of his rough fingertips on her sensitive palm are altogether too overwhelming and she needs to get out of there. She's supposed to be angry with him. Furious, even. Holding this grudge has been the only way she has been able to have any sort of power over him this past year, and yet...all she can think about at the moment are the sinful dreams she's been having lately where he presses her against a wall, desperately kissing her lips, her neck - even she knows that there has to be more to it - but what?

Sebastian blinks as she snatches her hand away like it's been burned and - oh, Merlin - she shoves the textbook back into her schoolbag and almost knocks the candle on the table over and wouldn't it be awful if she had started a fire? But she can't think about any of that now in her haste to just get out of the claustrophobic Divination tower.

Vaguely, she can hear Professor Onai asking her if everything is fine and she's not sure but she thinks she mumbles something about needing to go to the Hospital Wing - that's a good enough excuse to leave, isn't it? - but then she hears his voice, deep and cutting through the fog in her mind -

"Don't worry, I'll take her and make sure she gets there fine." A muffled response from their professor and then his voice, just as clear as before. "No, I don't know what happened..."

She hears him calling her name as she flees down the spiral staircase, almost tripping over her feet in her rush to get away from him, but he catches up quickly, reaching out to grab her arm in an attempt to slow her down. She stops running immediately - she supposes her traitorous body wants to see what he has to say, or maybe it just wants to bask in his intoxicating proximity. He crowds her space, and she sees that unfamiliar look in his eyes again. So very different from the cold disdain she had seen the last time she had been this close to him, during the argument that had ended their friendship.

"Let go of me," she whispers, but there's no conviction in her voice as she gazes into his deep, brown eyes. He can tell she doesn't mean it and doesn't make any move to listen to her. Why can't she hold on to the rage? A muggle quote about anger floats through her mind: Holding on to anger is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die. What a sweet poison her anger at Sebastian had been, while it lasted. She tries telling herself that he must still feel the same as the evening he had called her ignorant (ignoring the small voice in her head that reminded her of the letters of apology he had sent (that she had burned without reading), the times he had tried to get Anne or Ominis involved and apologize for him) - because why couldn't he just tell her himself? Maybe she had shut down any and all attempts he had made to repair the rift that he had caused in the first place, but she had been right to be so angry with him.

But oh, Merlin, he's getting closer to her, and she can now clearly see the freckles dusting his cheeks and nose and forehead and then before she knows it, his hand is sliding up her arm, leaving goosebumps everywhere he touches and then he's caressing her jaw with his rough thumb and he pauses. Her eyelids flutter closed as her head tilts towards him - she couldn't stop herself even if she wanted to (what does she want?). She can feel his warm breath ghosting over her lips and she has the improbable, ridiculous thought - how is he remembering to breathe? - before he speaks. His lips brush against hers with every soft word and a deep shiver runs through her body.

"I," she hears him say, his voice so, so low, "haven't been able to think since last week."

That's all she needs to hear, the brush of his bottom lip against hers all she needs to feel, to push her into closing what minuscule distance there is between them and then his lips are on hers and it's better than anything she's been imagining. His mouth is soft against hers, insistent, and her hands go up to grip the collar of his plaid jacket to make sure he doesn't go away or disappear on her.

She knows she's behaving wantonly, snogging Sebastian Sallow in the middle of the hallway where anyone could come across them, but third period has only just started and besides, she has had a week of restless nights being tortured by thoughts of him. A week of a few hours of sleep found here and there. Just one kiss should be enough to help her get over these strange feelings, right? She only feels like this because having him lie on top of her after he crashed into her - that satisfying weight of him - the friction of his thumb brushing against her nipple - had made her realize just how stupid she had been, holding this grudge against him for -

She whimpers in protest but it quickly turns into a moan as his mouth moves away from hers and down to her neck. He pulls at her tight collar desperately - she hears some seams ripping - to give him better access to it, and she finds herself arching her back and pushing her body closer to his as he nuzzles her neck with his nose before giving it open, sloppy kisses. When he hears her, he moves back to kissing her, greedily capturing every breathy moan that comes out of her mouth, but the noises coming from him are matching hers, and at the sound she feels an unfamiliar clenching deep in her stomach. Her fingers come up to his hair, going through the silky curls over and over - how are they as soft as his lips? - and he slowly pushes her back until she's sandwiched between his warm body and the cold stone of the wall behind her.

He lets out a low, frantic growl as a hand goes to grip the back of her head, holding her in place as he slants his mouth over hers. He tastes like cinnamon and...like something forbidden. What has gotten into her? She hates him, and yet...

They have abandoned any pretense of propriety - had they ever even been trying? - by this point. His tongue swipes across her lips and then she is completely lost to him, to every sensation of his mouth, and tongue, on hers. His large hands - the wicked hands that had been caressing her palm and had caused this whole mess in the first place - have moved to her waist and are pulling her even closer to him. When he pulls away briefly, she whines in protest, opening her eyes to glare at him. The sight of him, flushed and breathless, his eyes wide and pupils dilated - must match her own appearance because she sees the same hunger she feels in his eyes. She has never seen Sebastian Sallow so disheveled, but she finds she quite likes it and tugs on his curls with a whine. He obliges eagerly, bringing his mouth back to hers.

She's pressed as tightly against him as she can possibly be, and yet it still isn't enough. Her back arches once again, trying to find something, and then he slots one of his knees between her legs. She moans at the friction caused by his movements, can feel an unfamiliar slickness forming at the juncture between her legs, and this seems to spur him on further as his kisses get more desperate and sloppy. She moves against his leg, trying to relieve some of her discomfort, gasping into his mouth, when -

They freeze. Even if they are fully, completely, absorbed by...whatever this is, they can't ignore the strange, metallic clanking sound coming from their left. Sebastian pulls his head back from her slowly, reluctantly, breathing heavily, and looks over to see what the noise is. She wants to, but all of a sudden the horrifying reality of what they've been doing sinks in and oh god what if the noise is a person? Someone who has now seen her in what might possibly be the most mortifying moment of her life - desperately snogging Sebastian Sallow - and she finds she can't look over. She tucks her head into his neck to hide her face as she listens.

"I demand that you get away from her at once, you knave! Cease your attack!"

The voice sounds vaguely familiar, but she's certain that it doesn't belong to any of her classmates. He almost sounds...medieval, but -

"I made haste when I heard sounds of distress coming from down the hallway," the voice continues, "and it appears I have arrived not a moment too soon!"

She brings her head away from Sebastian's shoulder but still refuses to look over at whoever is speaking, instead choosing to stare at Sebastian's face. He's still deliciously flushed from their snogging, still breathing heavily, but now he looks terribly confused. His brows are furrowed, mouth opening and closing as he tries to come up with a response to the outrage currently being directed at him.

The unknown man is continuing his diatribe, almost not even stopping to breathe as he gets more and more worked up, and she hears some more clanking as he reaches a particularly exciting moment in his rant. Sebastian looks increasingly confused, but still shields her with his body, not moving away from her at all despite the accusations.

Her curiosity gets the better of her and she peeks over to see who it is.

The man who has been reprimanding Sebastian so boldly is none other than Sir Cadogan. Although she's never interacted with him directly, she often hears him yelling at his pony as she passes his portrait on her way to Divination. The knight is standing between two witches having tea, who are glaring at him quite angrily as he gesticulates wildly - every movement of his sword comes dangerously close to their display of cakes and sandwiches and it looks like he has already broken some plates. His armor is ill-fitting and loose on him, which explains the terrible noise.

"You rascally knave! I assure you that you do not want to find out what will happen to you if you do not unhand the fair maiden."

He brandishes his sword again, and the woman closest to him quickly snatches her tea cup away to save it from being broken as well. "Come now, Sir Cadogan," she says, exasperated. "Can't you see that these two are in love?"

The other woman joins her protests, nodding vigorously. "Yes, exactly that. Leave them be!"

"Nonsense," he exclaims. "I too have succumbed to my baser instincts on occasion and I can assure you that this is decidedly not what is occurring."

As Sir Cadogan continues to alternate between lecturing her and Sebastian, and directing his two attention to the ladies who are defending them, she looks back to the boy in question. Sebastian is looking down at her, a bemused smile on his lips and she feels a twinge in her chest. His face is still so close to hers that if she wants to, they could be snogging again with barely any effort and her eyes briefly flicker down to his tempting mouth before going back to his eyes, but...

What had gotten into her? What is she doing?

He had somehow managed to manipulate her again, because there is no way that this situation could have happened otherwise. All of a sudden, the anger she's been feeling for the past year and a half - that had left for a brief, blissful moment - surges again, and she pushes Sebastian away from her with as much force as she can muster. She almost feels bad as the happiness in his face turns to confusion, then frustration as he realizes she's getting away from him.

"Stay away from me," she hisses, picking up her discarded schoolbag from its spot on the ground. As she stalks down the hall, she can hear Sir Cadogan cheering on her bravery over the ringing in her ears.

She has a lot of thinking to do.

Sebastian Sallow's List of Priorities (in no particular order):

Figure out what the hell I'm going to do when I graduate;

Figure out how the hell I'm going to finish this bloody Charms essay before tomorrow; and

Figure out what the hell is going on between us

Sebastian sits in an undisturbed corner of the library - nobody ever comes to this table because it's tucked away between shelves of incredibly dense magical theory books - and is twirling his quill in his fingers, watching the ink splatter on the list he spent his precious time writing instead of the Charms essay he should be working on. He's far away from the first-years who like to congregate by the windows and watch the leaves fall softly to the ground rather than study for their classes. He's made especially sure that he is far, far away from her.

It's not his choice, mind you, but he needs to be a gentleman about these things. If she needs some time and space to figure out that she's as crazy for him as he is her, fine. But even Sebastian Sallow's patience runs thin, and he's not sure how much longer he can give her to come to her senses before he snaps and takes matters into his own hands. If things were up to him, the two of them would be sitting far too close together now in this secluded corner, and maybe he would need to put a hand over her mouth to ensure her complete silence as he runs a hand up her thigh.

Now that he knows what delicious sounds can come out of her mouth - sounds that he caused - he's been having a hard time concentrating on, well, anything. Sebastian surreptitiously glances across the library to where she's sitting and studying with his sister and Imelda. Ever since the events after their Divination class, Sir Cadogan has taken it upon himself to follow Sebastian around the halls of the castle, tripping through frames and disrupting their inhabitants as he lectures Sebastian on love. The tea party women had managed to convince the knight that he had disrupted an amorous exchange, and Sebastian fervently wishes they hadn't.

The whole school is abuzz with rumors about who it could be. Nobody has even come close so far with their guesses, but Anne and Imelda are having too much fun teasing him about it. Somehow, she has managed to avoid suspicion - he wonders how this is even possible, since she's never been able to hide what she's thinking. He makes eye contact with her - has she been staring at him this whole time? - and she flushes before looking over to Imelda, who's laughing too loudly at something Anne's just said. Sebastian can't tear his eyes away from her profile, his eyes following the curve of her eyebrow, the slight upturn of her lips as she smiles at her friends, her eyes as they dart back to him, her cheeks as she turns an even darker shade of red as she realizes he's still watching her. She tucks a lock of hair behind her ear, and rests her chin on her hand as she tries to look absorbed in what Anne is saying to her.

Sebastian wonders if she's thought about him as much as he's thought about her. Judging by how she had snogged him back, he's positive that she feels the same way, but then he remembers how she had looked at him before she fled, and he's not so sure. He sighs as he looks back to his list, bringing his quill back to the third item and ripping the paper as he crosses it out again. His mind has been going in circles since that moment and he doesn't know what to think. He slowly puts everything into his schoolbag before heading out of the library for yet another freezing cold shower that hopefully tempers his now-permanent state of arousal whenever she's around.

He doesn't notice her eyes following him as he walks out of the library.

He doesn't hear her hurried excuse to Anne and Imelda as she shoves her things into her bag and rushes to follow him.

He doesn't hear her light footsteps as she gets closer to him.

When she puts a hand out to touch his arm as he waits for the moving staircase to stop, with a soft, "Sebastian" accompanying it, he nearly jumps out of his skin. He was so absorbed with thoughts of her, that to see her standing at his side, closer than she had been since they kissed was almost his snapping point.

"Can we talk?" she asks, looking almost embarrassed as she avoids his eyes. She instead looks determinedly at his collar. He thinks she probably notices that he swallows nervously before acquiescing, but she says nothing as she turns and starts hurrying away from him without waiting to see if he follows her.

She must know that he would follow her anywhere at this point.

They weave through hallways - Sebastian vaguely wonders where exactly they're going - before reaching a little alcove, hidden by a suit of armor. She looks around before pulling him into it. It's almost curfew and the halls are never that busy when the weather is as beautiful as it has been these days - the end of September seems to be clinging on to the summer for as long as possible.

Her lips are on his before he can even ask her what she needed to talk with him about, hungry and desperate. Sebastian is too stunned to pull away - not that he would actually want to. Her arms wrap around his neck, keeping Sebastian close, slender fingers sliding through his hair.

"What," she says breathlessly between kisses - almost not even moving her mouth away from his enough to be able to enunciate properly, "are you doing to me? I haven't been able to think for the last month."

Sebastian smiles into her mouth, wondering if she knows that she's repeating the very thing he told her two weeks ago. Maybe she has been thinking of him all this time - he almost hopes that she's been suffering as much as he has. Instead of responding, he moves a hand to cup her jaw, deepening the kiss. His other hand moves to her waist, gripping it tightly, pulling her flush against his body and she gasps into his mouth. He slowly moves her closer to the window alcove behind them, snogging her senseless the whole time. She moans into his mouth which just spurs him on further - her skirt rides up to her hips as Sebastian trails a hand up her stockinged thigh and they both gasp when his hand reaches skin. Her skin is so, so soft and her breathing gets faster as he continues to caress her inner thigh, closer to the bend between her thigh and her center. Sebastian wonders if she's ever been touched there before by someone else and jealousy flares up inside of him at the thought.

In one swift move, he scoops her up and places her so that she's sitting on the window-ledge, the dusky light of the sunset illuminating her from behind and making her wispy flyaway hairs a golden halo around her. Sebastian's breath catches in his throat - has he ever seen anything so beautiful as her in that moment? - she's staring up at him, her fingers playing with the hair at the nape of his neck, her breathing shallow and anticipation in her eyes. "You're," he starts saying and his throat goes dry. He brings a hand up to tuck the errant lock of hair - the one she had tucked earlier in the library - behind her ear and she leans her head into his touch, closing her eyes briefly before looking up at him again with wide eyes. "You're perfect."

She smiles faintly and pulls his head back down towards hers and now she's brushing her lips against his, teasing him, before it's too much and he grips the back of her head, holding her in place as he crushes his mouth against hers in a bruising kiss. Her knees are on either side of his waist, and she desperately grinds her core against his throbbing erection and they both groan at the friction. Sebastian moves his hands down to her thighs again as he kisses her, slowly caressing his way up and pushing her skirt up further until it's completely bunched around her waist. She gasps into his mouth at his first tentative touch after he pushes aside her undergarments. Sebastian swipes a finger up her slit, through the slick that coats it, and then he starts circling her clit with slow, even strokes. She shivers against him - at his touch - clinging tightly to his shoulders and gasping into his mouth as he continues.

Every little noise coming out of her mouth, feeling how wet she is, how the slickness keeps growing growing growing makes Sebastian hungry for more - it isn't enough -

Slowly - so slowly - he wants to savor this moment - he lowers himself until he's kneeling between her legs and he looks up at her. Her face is deliciously flushed, all swollen lips and hair in a wild cloud around her face and all she can do is stare down at him. Her chest is heaving and she tries to close her legs - hide what is exposed to him - but he holds her thighs firmly in place on either side of his head. He turns his head and kisses her inner thigh, maintaining eye contact as he swipes his tongue across where he's just kissed, moving closer towards her slick center.

"Oh," she breathes, not-quite-a-word, not-quite-a-gasp, when his mouth reaches her center and hovers over it, lips slowly teasing her the way she had just teased him. Sebastian tentatively runs his tongue up her slit; the loud moan she lets out when he reaches her clit makes him stay there, applying light and not-so-light pressure in equal measure.

Her hands are scrabbling at his hair, digging into his scalp, ruining his earlier attempts to make it look presentable, hopefully attractive, for her these days. She's pushing his head deeper into the space between her legs, starting to rock herself slightly on his mouth, and Sebastian is happy to oblige. He eagerly laps up her slit, and the obscene wet noises as he continues combined with her whimpers and barely-spoken profanities "oh-yes-fuck-yes-there-please-" are making him hard beyond belief. He's straining against his trousers, begging to be let free. Without moving his face from her, he unbuttons his trousers and starts palming himself, using the slickness weeping out of the tip as lubrication.

She's abandoned all control at this point, grinding herself into his face as he laps her up, and it's driving him wild - knowing that he's doing this to her - causing her to be so undone. Normally she's so poised and aloof, never letting any real emotion flicker across her face, so to see her so desperate and needy and wanting him so -

Sebastian's gasping into her, tongue deep inside of her, "ohmygod" he hears her whisper, her hips driving into his face when she shudders and goes still, pulsing around the tongue that's deep inside of it. He slows down, smiling as he continues to run his tongue up her slit until she's responsive again. He kisses her inner thigh and hears her moan before getting up, caressing a finger down her love-struck face and leaning his head down to kiss her deeply. With his other hand he's still touching himself - the thought that she can taste herself on his tongue driving him crazy - and he starts rubbing its blunt head against her swollen clit. She takes it out of his hand- he groans at the feeling of her soft hands (the hands he had held a week ago in Divination and pictured doing this exact thing) tentatively caressing his length before she begins to slide it up and down her slit, coating it in her wetness.

Sebastian has surrendered all control to her - resting his hands on either side of her hips on the windowsill, tucking his head into the crook of her neck and thrusting with her movements as he loses himself in the sensation of sliding through her slick folds. He can feel his release building building building, and when he finally comes, all over her perfect, pink center, it feels like a finally.

Sebastian feels so, so heavy as he pulls his head away from her shoulder, as if he could fall into a blissful sleep right there, in the little window alcove where they've hidden themselves away. The sun has now set completely and they're in shadow as they stare at each other, the sound of their ragged breathing filling the tiny space.

"Sebastian, I..."

She's staring at him with an unfathomable expression on her face, still holding him in her hand, her other hand playing with the hair at the nape of his neck. They look down and he feels his face heat up even more at the mess he's made - he quickly pulls out his wand and cleans her up, before looking back at her, giving her a wry smile as he buttons up his pants and helps her off the ledge. "What did you want to talk to me about, again?"

She gives a slight shake of her head and looks away, but she can't hide the small smile that's growing on her face just like she can't help her eyes that keep wandering over to his. He knows the growing smile on his face matches hers - did that really just happen? She reaches over to lace her fingers through his as they walk around the suit of armor. "I - it's not important."

"Come on," he says, not being able to resist the opportunity to tease her - he's somehow managed to break through the barriers she's set up around her, and he's not about to let the opportunity slide. "Surely that's not what you had in mind when you..."

Sebastian trails off as he sees the expression in her face turn to one of horror - he didn't think his teasing was that bad, was it? - but she's also pulling her hand out of his like she's been burned and -

He follows her gaze, to where it's fixed at the end of the hallway and he knows that once again his face mimics hers. He will never live this down.

Standing at the end of the hallway and looking like two cats who've just found a huge dish of milk, are his sister and Imelda.

Misery.

Complete and utter misery are what she's feeling, if she has to put it into words, which she does. Writing things down always helps her out, helps her organize her thoughts into some sort of order. Except...this time around, it's not really helping. She can't seem to make any sense of her feelings for Sebastian.

She looks over the muddled mess of words she's written down - stream of consciousness, incomprehensible babble - and sighs. She's been dreaming of falling in love since she was a young girl - Jane Austen will do that to you - and can't believe that now that she's had her opportunity, it has to go and be with Sebastian Sallow. Because it has to be love, hasn't it?

There can be no other explanation for the painful way her stomach twists itself up whenever she catches a glimpse of him these days, the way he's consuming her every thought - even when she's dreaming she can't escape him. She can't get the sight of his tousled curls between her legs, his mischievous, warm brown eyes looking up at her as she had the most mind-numbing, toe-curling orgasm of her life - none of the times she's touched herself have ever come close to the sensations he managed to evoke.

Every time she's walking through the hallways between classes and hears his loud voice as he jokes with Garreth, or Ominis, about quidditch or Merlin-knows-what her eyes snap to his face as if he were the sun, and she a sunflower searching for its warmth. And he is most decidedly not the sun. He has the tendency to snort when he laughs, and he laughs too much, especially at his own jokes. Sometimes he talks while he eats. He always twirls his quill between his long fingers in the most annoying way, splattering ink onto any parchment unfortunate to be caught underneath. But he also...

He also always goes out of his way to prepare Ominis's Potions ingredients (why Ominis decided to take and was accepted into NEWT level is a mystery to everyone), occasionally stops to play a round of gobstones with Zenobia when he has the time. Sebastian can often be found in his favorite armchair in the Slytherin common room, resting his face on his hand as he idly flips through the pages of some book, looking altogether too handsome as he does so. And when he stretches and yawns at the end of every Arithmancy lesson - like he is now - his shirt lifts up a bit and she can see a tan sliver of his stomach and -

Snapping in front of her: she blinks and looks over: when she sees it's Imelda her face immediately turns beet red and she grabs the paper she's been doodling on and rips it to shreds as fast as she can.

"Are you fantasizing about a certain annoying someone?" Imelda asks with a wicked grin, dramatically looking over her shoulder at the certain someone in question. He's still stretching, blinking sleepily; when he notices the two girls watching him he flushes deeply. Her stomach twinges again at the sight of him noticing her - has he thought about her since that moment as much as she has? What would she do if he had? Or...if he hadn't? - and she focuses instead on the paper she is currently destroying.

"Imelda," she hisses, glaring at her best friend, "stop."

Imelda does not stop.

Imelda doesn't stop during their walk to Herbology, and she does not stop as they set up their planting stations, and she most certainly does not stop as they mutter charms over their plants.

Ever since she experienced the most wonderful moment in her whole life, followed by the most mortifying, Anne and Imelda have not stopped pestering her about it. They've finally solved the 'Sir Cadogan Puzzle' - I knew it was you all along, claims Anne - but if they truly knew what had happened between her and Sebastian, she's afraid the two of them would simply combust. She loves them dearly, but they never know when to stop, and they've been pushing and poking and prodding her for more information the whole week. She has managed to remain tight-lipped and, she hopes, mysterious about the whole thing, but she's getting tired of the teasing.

"Really," Anne says, wiping her forehead and leaving a trail of dirt behind, "if you would only talk to him, I would stop bothering you. Promise."

"Yes," chimes in Imelda, on her other side, wrestling the leaves of her own plant into submission. "You know, after we saw the two of you holding hands and looking at each other with stars in your eyes, I'm really starting to doubt that you hate him as much as you claim."

"Were the two of you snogging in secret all of last year too? Because, I'm starting to get annoyed thinking of all the times I had to talk to my brother for you because of your stubborn pride."

Does she still hate him? She certainly thinks she should, but then her thoughts get terribly confusing as she continues to think about him, and she realizes all of her old hatred has long since faded. Anne has forgiven her brother, Ominis has forgiven him, and all that remains is her.

They should talk, but she doesn't know what to say.

She's afraid that maybe the man she's been inventing in her mind this past month is simply a figment of her imagination - a fictitious being created by an accumulation of stolen glances when he doesn't know she's watching, someone who all of their classmates seem to like, someone who is very different from the fifteen-year-old boy she had that terrible argument with all that time ago. Maybe he doesn't actually exist.

She would be crushed if he's hiding the fact that he still holds on to that desperate darkness that had driven him to save Anne by any means necessary.

And so she keeps her space. She watches him from afar, feeling the hatred slowly melt off of her, falling more in love every day, but too cowardly to make the next move.

Anne and Imelda continue bantering on either side of her, not noticing - or, more likely, not caring - that she isn't participating.

Sebastian's hands are sweating. He wipes them on the inside of his robes as he glances at the girl next to him. She's holding herself rigidly, but she did this to herself, sitting next to him at dinner as she had.

Well, sitting next to him hadn't been completely her idea if he's being honest. He'd been having dinner with Anne, and the two of them were dying of laughter as she recounted seeing Duncan Hobhouse get tormented by Peeves earlier that day. One moment, Anne had been demonstrating what she had seen using her potatoes and green beans as props, and the next, a particularly evil grin had lit up her face as she pushed her plate away with gusto and jumped to her feet, calling her over.

"It would be such a shame for these potatoes to go to waste, seeing as I have a very important meeting to attend," Anne had said, after pushing her friend into the very tight space at Sebastian's side. "Never mind the mess, I can assure you I didn't actually eat the food..."

And with that, Anne had flounced away, Imelda on her arm, the two girls cackling to each other as they snuck wicked glances over their shoulders at the couple.

A couple who is now steadfastly avoiding each other and trying their hardest not to even brush elbows. Sebastian is altogether too aware of her presence, has been for the better part of a month, and his patience is dangerously close to snapping. He keeps getting maddeningly close to finally getting her to open up to him - had actually achieved it for a few blissful moments - just to have it be taken away again. It's almost embarrassing how many times he's thought about their encounter. She had been everything he'd been dreaming about and more - soft, responsive, just as desperate as him - so why has she been avoiding him so thoroughly?

Yes, he's caught her staring at him more times than he can count, with that same unfathomable expression she had before, almost dreamy - wistful - could it be love? But he knows that it's preposterous, wishful thinking on his part. If it were love - if she felt the same crazy, tumultuous emotions that he was feeling constantly - she wouldn't be so cold towards him. Even if she was staring at him more than ever before.

He doesn't notice as she slips a folded paper into the book sitting next to his plate, but he does notice that she sits next to him for barely five minutes, not even touching the food that Anne has so graciously left her, before she gets up and slips away without so much as speaking a single word to him, or even looking in his direction at all.

Sebastian's sitting in a nearly empty common room after curfew, flipping through his book as he normally does this time of day, when she sees him pause.

Although she's been waiting for this moment, watching him from the corner she's tucked herself away in, she feels ready to pass out from nerves. Her heart's ready to burst out of her chest as she watches him curiously pick up the letter she slipped in his book earlier, brow furrowed. She wrings her hands nervously as she watches him read the letter and flip over the page to see if there's more, and then he goes back to read it again from the beginning.

She wasn't expecting him to read it a second time, let alone a third time, still with an inscrutable expression on his face. Maybe she should have positioned herself closer so she could see every emotion flickering through his face as he reads - she's too far away to see anything and she curses her lack of foresight. If she moves now, he'll see her, and she doesn't even know what she was thinking when she wrote the letter, when she managed to convince Anne to help her get close to Sebastian earlier that night during supper, when she moved herself to sit in this corner just so she could watch him find and read the -

"Hello."

She nearly jumps out of her skin with a muffled shriek at the sound of his voice so close to her. Why does she feel almost guilty when she looks up at him? She's so, so afraid.

Emotions have never come easily to her. Showing them is something she's not sure will ever come naturally - Anne and Imelda can laugh and shout without a care in the world, but she always holds herself back. Hides a small part of herself away, that only she knows about. Baring herself completely to Sebastian in the letter she feverishly wrote the day before was like ripping out a part of her soul and giving it to him to keep. Once the words were written down, there was no way to take them back, not that she wants to.

But what if he rejects her?

Her eyes get hot and tears cloud her vision as she stares up at him, still wringing her hands together over and over, feeling like she's positively going to burst with the force of the emotions roiling around inside of her. Why did she think this would be a good idea?

Now he's kneeling in front of her, holding her hands in his bigger, rougher ones - reminiscent of that fateful day so long ago in Divination when he had flustered her so - and a thumb is gently wiping away the big, fat tears she didn't even realize were rolling down her cheeks and she lifts her face from watching their intertwined hands and gazes tremulously into his eyes.

They are so, so gentle and warm and full of love, but the emotions are still too much for her and she can't stop crying for some unfathomable reason, so the kiss they share is wet and lovely and full of incredulous laughter.

"I love you too," he whispers between kisses, over and over again, until the words almost lose meaning - but these words could never lose their meaning when they come from him.

  In the years to come, they always bicker about who was the first to say it. Sebastian says that writing doesn't count - that his words are the ones that decide who is the victor in this small argument - but she always just smiles at his insistence, knowing that he's kept her letter tucked inside whatever book he's reading since it first fell onto his lap.

[courfee]

“Regulus would be proud of us,” James whispered quietly to no one in particular, still gripping onto the painting like a life raft. 

— Tender Curiosities, Baby!  @otrtbs

[princington]

Another gifted commission for AlmsForOblivion's Bridgerton AU - Chapter 7 of the bane of my existence

[surr3al1sm]

Chapter 5 of I'm Willing To Take That Chance is fianlly out! 🌹✨

Finally! I did it. Sorry that this took so long lmao. Life got in the way as I've tried my best to tell you.

There are some updates in the end note, so I would appriciate you give those a read. Though its not like its something I haven't said on here before.

Thank you so much if you do give it a read! I hope you enjoy :)

“Got balls of steel, got an automobile for a minimum wage. Got real estate, I’m buying it all up in outer space. And now that the truth is just a rule that you can bend. You crack the whip, shapeshift and trick the past again. Send you my love on a wire, Lift you up everytime.”

[mousy-nona]

Two's Company (Three's a Crowd)

In which Lilith makes Lucifer an offer he finds hard to refuse, and Alastor has to figure out just how far he'll go to keep him.

Or, Alastor deals with Feelings, breaks into the Sistine Chapel, and causes an international (inter-Ring?) crisis.

NOTE: A few mentions of Helluva Boss characters in here. I don't watch the show, so apologies if I got anything wrong!

Alastor knew something was wrong the second Lucifer clumped downstairs. It didn’t take a genius to figure it out; his body language was practically screaming I’m in a bad mood! Comfort me! His face was pale – even paler than usual – and he stumbled into three different doors before finally giving up on the whole ordeal and flopping onto the couch. 

With a sigh, he summoned the darkness and willed himself to appear standing over Lucifer, casting a long shadow over his face. 

“Why so glum, old chum?” 

Lucifer turned even whiter and waved him away, rolling to his side to avoid his gaze. “S’nothing,” he muttered.

Odd. Usually he would bite back. Determined to get some sort of reaction, Alastor hummed and drummed relentlessly on the top of his white top hat. “Let’s see. Why is his Majesty upset today? Another duck explosion?” He paused. Silence. “So no adorable toys were harmed in the making of today’s tragedy. Perhaps something to do with Charlie?”

A flinch this time. He was getting warmer. 

“Charlie and the hotel? Charlie and the angels? Charlie and her big break up?”

“What? ” Lucifer bolted straight up, his eyes saucer-big. 

“...a break up that never happened, of course. I had to make sure you were still listening!”

He narrowed his eyes. “You are one sadistic asshole, has anyone told you that?” 

“Constantly,” Alastor said, his voice deep with pride. “So are you going to tell me what’s on your mind, or am I going to have to make a few more educated guesses of my own?”

Lucifer sighed, rummaged through his pocket, and handed a piece of paper to Alastor. He’d clearly read it a thousand times over – the thing was crumpled, dog-eared, and folded over and over again. The smell of plum blossoms and gunpowder wafted over him as he carefully read the note.

Come up top. Tonight at sunset, the Sistine Chapel. Heaven has an offer for you. You may be able to fly with the angels again. -Kisses, L

“L…” Alastor’s eyes widened. “Lilith?” 

Lucifer nodded, draping one arm over his eyes. “Lilith,” he said. His voice was distant, faraway. As if he was already out of Alastor’s reach. 

A sharp pain like a gunshot ripped through his chest, so sudden he thought the hunter had come back a hundred years later to finish the job. 

“Alastor?” Lucifer was staring at him.

“Yes?” 

“What are you doing?” 

Alastor glanced down at the couch – where his hand was clamped tightly over Lucifer’s wrist. He hissed and forced himself to let go, staring at his traitor hand in bewilderment. 

“Are you going to go?” 

“She is my wife, Al,” Lucifer sighed. “And her offer sounds like an interesting one, to say the least.” 

His wife. Of course, Alastor had known Lucifer was married. But it was the first time it had seemed like anything more than a running joke. To think there was someone else Lucifer might belong to… He grit his teeth, his claws cutting deep into his palms. 

Alastor did not share. Never had. 

Especially not with selfish she-demons who abandoned their families at the drop of a hat.

Should have taken better care of your husband, Lilith. 

“Are you sure that’s the best idea?” he asked, keeping his voice neutral. “What if it’s a trick?” 

“She wouldn’t do such a thing,” Lucifer said, quick to jump to the traitor’s defense. He frowned, as if Alastor was the one in the wrong. “She’s not like that.” 

That pain again. Alastor’s hand twitched, half-tempted to rip his heart out and be done with these annoying, needless emotions for good. He’d managed to live a hundred and thirty delightful years without this pain, amusing himself with deals, with blood and bone and screams. Laughing at the trials and tribulations of lesser demons from a distance, where nothing and no one could affect him. 

Then Lucifer and this damned hotel had come along. They’d changed…things. 

And after all that, Lucifer thought he was going to walk away from all of it? From him? 

The shadows roared to life by his side. Reality glitched, light bent, green lightning flashed, trapping the two of them in a dimension of their own. One of his tendrils shot out, intending to cage Lucifer in further, but he missed and smashed through the top of the couch instead. 

He missed. He didn’t miss. Ever. What the Hell was going on with him?

Your control is slipping, his shadow whispered delightedly in his ear. What next? Are you going to beg? Go all sappy and tell him you –

“Never,” he whispered. 

“Alastor! What the Hell is going on with you?” Lucifer barked, backing away from the gaping hole his tendrils had left behind. Alastor whipped towards him, and Lucifer blanched. “You...are you okay?”

He could see his own crazed eyes, his wild, out-of-control grin reflected back at him in Lucifer’s concern. He took a few deep breaths, getting his voice under control before he said, “I don’t think you should go.”

Lucifer paused, then shook his head. “I have to. I have to know what she wants.” 

“Fine.” Alastor snarled, one of his shadow tendrils snapping uncontrollably at the air. One of them crashed into the couch, snapping it in two, and nearly tore the floor in half. “Do as you please.”

Then he called his shadows, and melted away before Lucifer could say another word.

Unwilling to spend another second under the same roof as that sad excuse for a king, Alastor headed to the one place he knew he could find a kindred spirit – Rosie’s.

The second she saw the look on his face, she wheeled out an assortment of her best treats – ladyfingers, blood pudding, buck’s eyes, and ladies’ navels – and poured him a pot of her finest tea.

“What’s the occasion?” Alastor asked.

“Does there need to be an occasion for me to pamper my friend?”

“Rosie,” Alastor said, and she stopped bustling about. His voice sounded tired even to his own ears, scraped clean of his usual boisterous gentlemanly artifice. “What’s the occasion?” 

“You look like you need it,” Rosie said, her brow raised as she gave him a significant once-over. “To be honest, sweets, you look like shit.” 

“You have such a way with words,” he sighed, plopping down on an empty chair and helping himself to a few buck’s eyes. They squished delightfully between his teeth, but he couldn’t taste anything past the sour disgust in his mouth. Disgust with Lucifer, for running back to Lilith the second she called. Disgust with himself, for caring .

“So what did Lucifer do?” 

He nearly spat out the eye, half-chewed cornea and all. “What makes you think–?”

“Sweetheart.” Rosie leaned forward as she popped a ladyfinger into her mouth. “I don’t pretend to know or understand what’s going on between you and Lucifer, but I wasn’t born yesterday. Of course it’s him. You only get that funny little twitch in your eye when he’s involved.”

It was getting worse and worse. Now he was predictable too. The thread of his sanity bent and stretched perilously thin. Like a sailor being pitched this way and that in a storm, he scrabbled for something, anything to hold onto, and eventually managed to calm himself down by thinking of increasingly creative deaths for the angel. No Lucifer, no more pesky feelings. He’d be able to return to his old self. Impenetrable. Cold. Unfeeling.

You know it’s too late for that, his shadow, his honest half, whispered in his ear. 

I’ll kill you too, he promised the shadow. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” he trilled. His voice was strained, he sounded half mad. “Lucifer is meeting his wife on Earth, that’s all. It sounds like she’s trying to take him back to Heaven.” 

Rosie’s cup clattered onto the table and shattered. Shards of glass and Gluttony’s finest tea flew everywhere, but she didn’t even flinch. “Is that possible?”

He shrugged. “You’ll have to ask Lilith.”

“Leaving you here…in Hell.” Understanding dawned over her face.

“Please, Rosie! I’ve done quite well for myself for a hundred years without him, I daresay I’ll go another hundred without sparing him another thought.”

One of his shadow minions tottered over with another cup. She accepted it gratefully, poured herself some more tea, and sipped at it, staring at him over the rim. He steeled himself. Rosie always had something unpleasant to say when she was giving him The Look.

“Alastor, I’ve known you since the day you dropped into Hell. And no matter what this odd place has thrown at you, you’ve cut through it all with a smile. This is no different. It’s another kind of trial, to be sure, but you’ve never run away from something before.” “I am not running away ,” Alastor hissed, annoyed at the mere implication.

“Oh? What would you call this then? Having tea with an old friend while someone else comes in and steals what’s yours?”

He narrowed his eyes. “Why should I care about what Lucifer does?” 

She scoffed. “There’s no one else here but you and me, Alastor. You can admit it here.”

“Admit what?” The world glitched and the light flickered, turning red, then green, then yellow. His voice was monstrous, split into four different harmonies and overlaid with heavy static. 

Rosie continued on, completely unaffected by his display of power. “You may not love in the same way that the Princess does, but the king has won a special piece of your heart, hasn’t he?”

“I do not lo–”

She cut him off, skewering him with a hard stare. “How long has it taken for you to find him? And do you really think if you lose him, you’ll be able to find someone so important to you ever again?” She laughed and took another calm sip of tea, completely unimpressed by the massive shadow of antlers and teeth bristling in front of her. “I always knew you were destined for great things, but to find a partner in the Morning Star? You’ve outdone yourself this time.” 

Alastor shrunk into himself until he was back to his normal, strawberry-suited shape. “I don’t need him,” he snarled.

“No, you don’t need him. But do you really think you’ll be happy with him gone?” 

Unbidden, a tidal wave of memories came crashing down on him. Lucifer yelping as he accidentally sat on one of Alastor’s unfortunate meal choices, Lucifer destroying every one of his radios in the hotel as revenge, Lucifer gagging when he joined him for dinner one day, Lucifer’s annoyed taunts, Lucifer’s shock when he accidentally-on-purpose snuck in a compliment, Lucifer’s broad smile, Lucifer, Lucifer .

You’ve never run away before. Don’t run away from this. 

“No,” he whispered. Rosie’s smile widened until it nearly cracked her face in two.

“Good. Now, you mentioned they were going to Earth?”

He nodded, struck momentarily mute by the strange emotions twisting and roaring in his chest. 

“I happen to know of a certain someone who might be able to get you there.”

Alastor gripped the grimoire in one hand, ignoring the screaming pain that made itself known every time he stepped forward. The portal had been surprisingly easy to create once he’d gotten his hands on the grimoire. It transported him to the front doors of the Sistine Chapel without a hitch – which was good, since Stolas had turned one of his arms and who knew what else to stone. 

That crazy owl, he thought, there was no need for all that fuss. I was only borrowing it. 

The sun dipped low in the horizon, casting a heavenly orange glow over the grandiose halls of the chapel. He’d never had a chance to visit when he was a human, and a part of him marveled at the beauty of it. Truly a pinnacle of human achievement. 

He would appreciate it more, if his feet didn’t feel like they were slowly being roasted over a pit. The holy power in the building was strong, and he felt it sapping away at his demonic energy like hungry parasites. His arm was growing heavier and heavier with each passing second. The distinct taste of iron tickled the back of his throat.

But Alastor plowed on. Left, right, right, left, until he finally came to a hall much greater than the others. 

Voices, one cold and high, and the other so familiar it made his chest ache, filtered through the door. He put one hand on the flat wood, ignoring the fire that blazed through his body as it did its best to exorcise him back to Hell, and pushed.

Lilith turned around first, her cold eyes widening when she took in his antlers, his sentient microphone, his razor sharp teeth. “A demon? Here?” 

Lucifer turned then, and a whirlwind of emotions flashed across his face. First disbelief, then anger, and finally pure, bright happiness . It made Alastor’s skin prickle. He wanted to bully him relentlessly so he could never smile like that again.

He had always liked dirty things. Liked to smudge and ruin and tear until the good was shattered in two. Lucifer was proving quite a challenge – despite spending the entirety of the universe trapped amongst sinners, despite being separated from everything good and holy, despite his depression and his growing disbelief, there was something about him that was still pure .

Alastor wanted to ruin him. 

“Apologies for barging in without an invite–”

But his big speech was ruined by Lucifer, who took a step towards him, his eyes shining. Lilith was watching them both through narrowed eyes. 

“You came,” he said, his eyes shining. “You actually came.” 

“Don’t read too much into it,” Alastor grumbled, knowing he would anyways. 

“How did you manage–?”

“Let’s get into it later.” Alastor raised his chin, staring Lilith in the eye. It was foolish, he knew. Even without the consecrated ground sapping at his demonic power and burning him alive, he was exhausted from his battle with the Goetic Prince. Roughly a third of his body had been turned to stone. He was in no shape to take on the Queen of Hell.

But he was here now. It was too late for regrets. 

“What are you doing here?” Lilith asked, sounding more curious than anything. 

“Merely an interested party. Please, continue with your meeting. I apologize for my rude interruption.” 

Lucifer drifted closer, his eyes widening when he saw Alastor’s ripped clothes. Alastor straightened, doing his best to look as normal as possible. 

“Apology accepted.” Lilith turned to Lucifer. “So, what do you think of the proposal?” 

“It’s an offer of a lifetime,” Lucifer chuckled, one eye on Alastor, always Alastor. Despite the massive amounts of pain he was in, he felt a sizzle of pleasure crawl up his spine. “I thought I was banished until the end of this world.” 

“Things are changing. Charlie’s little experiment is making the higher ups nervous. They’ve decided they might need your help to set things right. And if you play your part, well…who knows what might be possible?” She held out her hand. To anyone other than Alastor, she might look like the posterchild of sweetness, of love. But he was a master manipulator, and he could recognize a well-crafted mask when he saw one. 

Lucifer closed his eyes, indecision warring across his face. 

“We can both go to Heaven, Lu. We can be together again.” 

“Stay.” 

Lucifer’s eyes shot open and he whirled around to stare disbelievingly at Alastor. Lilith’s gaze shot to him too, the first flickers of anger cracking her mask. Alastor ignored her, keeping his gaze steady on Lucifer.

“Stay in Hell.” He’d rather get fully petrified by Stolas than say the next part, but he knew he must. Alastor the Radio Demon did not run away. Taking a deep breath, he choked out, “Stay with me.” 

If he had been human, the radiance that shone from Lucifer would have been bright enough to melt his corneas. Lucifer stepped fully towards him – turning his back on his wife. 

“I’m sorry, Lilith,” he murmured as he raised his hand, wonderingly, towards Alastor’s cheek. Alastor flinched, but forced himself to stay still as Lucifer ran one gentle finger down a scratch he hadn’t noticed was there. The flesh knitted together, the skin stitching clean. He smiled at Alastor, and Alastor was seized with the strange urge to bite it off. “I appreciate the offer, but I’m happy where I am.”

“What?” She stuttered, looking uncertain for the first time. “But you hate the sinners! You’re miserable down there!”

Lucifer laughed. “I was miserable up there too. And you know, they’re not all bad.” He looped one hand around Alastor’s waist as they headed for the door. “They don’t leave me for a year without a single word, for instance.” 

The door snapped shut with a satisfying thump on Lilith’s shell shocked expression. 

“Man, I’ve been dying to say that one for months. Did you see the stupid look on her face?” Lucifer crowed. Alastor let out a weak chuckle, struggling desperately to keep his feet underneath him. Now that the danger was over and the adrenaline was leaving his system, it was getting harder and harder to keep his legs moving. The weaker he grew, the more the holy energy gnawed at him. 

With a whoosh, he felt his stone foot go limp. He staggered into Lucifer, who caught him easily. His eyes widened, his hands tightening around Alastor’s shivering body.

“That’s right, this is consecrated ground,” Lucifer swore. “How did you get in, anyways? There should be wards for that kind of thing. And how the fuck are you still standing?” 

“Surely you’re not asking me to reveal my secrets?” Alastor managed, swallowing hard past the stone his stomach had become. 

“Come on, I can’t open a portal while we’re still inside. There’s an exit nearby. You should feel better once we’re off the grounds.” 

Lucifer picked up the pace, heading determinedly towards a small door Alastor had completely missed the first time around. 

“But seriously, how did you get on Earth? You can’t make portals, and you don’t have –” 

His voice trailed off when Alastor held up a blue-bound book with a giant gold moon stamped on the cover. Stolas’s grimoire.

“ Are you insane ?” 

Alastor coughed, and a line of red streamed down the corner of his mouth. “It would have been rather easy, except the imp’s owl-friend happened to be in the room when I arrived. Unfortunate timing, that.”

Lucifer paused, his face going slack with an odd mixture of worry and fascination. “You took on a Goetic Prince? For me?”

“It wasn’t as difficult as I imagined it would be. I’ve faced Overlords with more grit.” Again, he coughed, and more blood started flowing. “But there may or may not be an international crisis waiting for you back home.”

“Fuck the crisis. Are you alright?”

“I’ll be fine.” Lucifer’s concern rankled. He was Alastor, for Hell’s sake. The Radio Demon, the strongest Overlord Pentagram City had ever seen. Even with his power half-shackled, he wasn’t some weak little imp that had to be coddled. “Stolas was too busy worrying about his favorite little pipsqueak to get off more than a few shots.”

Lucifer eyed the blood splattered down his front, but wisely decided against commenting further. As soon as they were off of sacred ground, Alastor started breathing easier. Lucifer summoned a portal and grabbed his hand to fly them into it – his left hand. 

Lucifer yelped. “You – did your hand get turned into stone ?”

He shrugged. “Hand…and a few other things.” Lucifer looked horrified. “‘Tis but a flesh wound.” 

“You–” Lucifer stopped, as if words failed to describe exactly how much of a lunatic Alastor was. “I gave up Heaven for you.” He said it slowly, as if he was testing the words, feeling out their price.

“I hope you’re not getting buyer’s remorse. It’s a bit too late for that.” 

Quick as a flash, Lucifer grabbed Alastor’s neck and wrenched their mouths together. It wasn’t sweet. It was rough and desperate and bloody, and Alastor finally, finally let his instinct go free and slashed at Lucifer’s lips with his razor teeth. The golden blood that dripped from the shallow cuts was, for lack of a better word, heavenly. 

Like burning ambrosia. A cloying warmth that bit and blazed while it healed. It made him shiver with delight. For this taste alone, he would blast through Stolas’s palace a hundred times. 

When they broke away, Lucifer’s eyes were flames. “Never,” he breathed. Then he cracked his knuckles, his six wings flaring wide. 

“But I do think I have a Prince of Hell to visit.” 

[groundzero-v]

(Finally) writing and realising Prongsfoot brilliance needs to once again be written by me, a dumbass.

Like yes I did get them into this situation, yes they need to smartly get out of it, no I don't know how.

[fluffytheocelot]

Hi I’m doing things don’t worry about it :)

[captainhysunstuff]

11 more images below the cut:

Light heads to meet L at the pick-up point for their date and is met with a surprise.  Another more frustrating surprise was finding out that Sayu had followed him.  She briefly meets “Hideki Ryuga,” and has her suspicions all but confirmed as far as she knows.  With the delay over, they drive off to officially begin the date.

Next

Previous

First

Master List

Transcript

[londonhalcyon]

The wedding chapter is a slog, but once I get past it I can start tormenting you guys with cliffhangers again, which is nice. For me, at least.

[dannydoteggg]

my MC Max and her absolute best friend Arden from When Twilight Strikes by @evertidings

[thelastarchangelaskblog]

Yes! Hello! A chapter in less than a year? Miracles do happen! In any case…yeah, the chapter count went up again. I took a look at the current word count and figured out that I have…quite a bit left to go. And I didn't want to drop another 50,000+ chapter. It's just…so much. And there's a good stopping point here. I do have about 15,000 words of the ensuing chapter (just no title yet), so that's good going.

You as my readers keep me going, so thank you so much for all your continued support through the years! It means so much to me. <3

Stoked about a lot of things here! :) So, please, enjoy!

[lagingersnapz]

Some Rain Must Fall - (Fallout Fic) Chapter 3: Hazards and Homesteads

Chapter: 3/?

In the past, Lucy decides to stand up to the noseless man raining terror down on the marketplace. Definitely not only because the judgmental bobblehead stared her down, either.

In the present, Lucy and Cooper do their best to talk a gun out of Lucy's face.

Characters: Lucy MacLean/Cooper Howard(The Ghoul), Dogmeat(CX-404), Original Characters

Word Count: 3876

Warnings: Violence, Swearing

Author's Note: Okay, listen. I have no idea if "Vault-Dwellers" should be capitalized or not, so sometimes it will be and sometimes it won't be. There will be no logic to it. I'm only a little sorry, honestly. Continuing my daily posting here. Not sure what else to say about it right now. ^^; This was posted weeks ago on Ao3 and honestly it's kinda crazy to me how much the story has developed and how I found my voice and the characters between now and then.

Previous Next

Ao3

~~~

There it was, in black ink on the yellowed pages of the logbook: L. Moldaver. Lucy felt the first bit of relief since she had stepped foot on the surface. It was the first real sign she had found of how to get her dad back. There had to be more, though. Something in the book had to say where Moldaver was going, or what she was planning to do with Lucy’s dad. Trying to still her shaking hands, Lucy started flipping through pages. Outside, the sounds of a fight continued.

“No! No, please!” Wilzig sounded desperate, but Lucy didn’t have time to stop and help him. Her dad needed her more… Right? She glanced back at the doorway of the shop but couldn’t get a clear look at what was happening outside. When she turned back, something caught her eye; a Vault Boy bobblehead on a shelf. And it was staring straight at her, arms crossed. A bobblehead had never felt so judgmental before.

Lucy heaved a sigh, staring back at it, mentally trying to reason with it, to explain that she couldn’t stop now. If she joined that gunfight, she risked being killed, and then nobody would be able to save her dad from the kidnappers, so clearly she couldn’t get involved.

The Vault Boy was not moved by her mental explanations and continued to stare at her, arms crossed, waiting for her to take action. Lucy shook her head, trying to steady her breathing. She looked down at the book and then to her tranq gun, slowly settling her hand on it. Everyone outside was using guns of the more lethal variety. If she went out there with just the tranq gun, how much could she actually be expected to do?

The walls of the shop were lined with all kinds of weaponry. Any of those might serve her better. One in particular was massive, with a sign next to it declaring it to be a ‘Junk Jet’ for 285 caps. Something like that could certainly give her an edge in the fight… If she had the caps to pay for it, which she didn’t. The judgmental Vault Boy bobblehead might be urging her to join the fight, but stealing was still wrong. She couldn’t abandon all of her morals up here.

With one more steadying breath, Lucy pulled out her tranq gun and moved back to the front door of the shop. The right thing to do was to step in. If she abandoned all her father had taught her about accountability and kindness on her way to find him, it could only disappoint him. Outside, the scene was much as she had left it, minus all the other combatants. The noseless man stood alone above everyone.

Ma June was tying a tourniquet on her leg, and it wasn’t a stretch to think she must have taken a bullet. Wilzig himself was practically laying down now, still moaning in pain, trying to scoot himself backwards on his elbows to escape the noseless man, but making very little progress.

Lucy strode between the two, trying to look as confident as she could. The noseless man was facing away, but he must have heard her walk out, because his shoulders slumped with an annoyed sigh, and he drew the gun he had probably only just re-holstered as he turned to face her… And then stopped in his tracks.

“I’m going to have to ask you to leave him alone,” Lucy said. To her amazement, the man didn’t immediately shoot her, and it gave her just enough confidence to continue. Maybe, just maybe, she could talk him down. “Now, I acknowledge that I’m unfamiliar with your circumstances. But, at first glance, your treatment of this man appears unfair, and I’m obliged to intervene.”

While she spoke, the noseless man tilted his head, looking at her as though she was some sort of strange creature the likes of which he had never seen, yet at the same time he wore a small grin that was not at all nice.

“Huh,” he grunted, and suddenly Lucy felt like a child that was simply being humored, but she had started, so she might as well press on.

“Now, if your instinct is to harm me,” she raised her free hand, palm tilted placatingly, “as a person simply trying to de-escalate a conflict, then I’ll have to assume of the two of you, you are likely the primary aggressor.”

The noseless man tilted his head the other way, his grin still plastered on his face, clearly amused more than anything at her attempts. The action was almost patronizing enough for Lucy to stop her attempts at calming things down. Almost.

“In which case, I think everyone in this town would agree that force is justified.” She looked off to the side at the town in question, but the streets were clear now of everyone but the dead and the four of them. The noseless man looked around too, his brow raised in amusement as he likely noticed the same thing.

“Unless you willingly stand down now.” Lucy raised her gun and aimed it at him, the same as she would have in the training range. The same as she had the raiders that had threatened everything she had ever held dear on what ended up being the worst day of her life to date. The day everything had changed for her and the world got a whole lot meaner.

“Fucking vault-dwellers. Jeez,” Ma June groaned from her place on the walkway. Lucy continued to stand her ground, trying to still the slight shaking in her hand as she stared down the noseless man. He was searching her face, scrutinizing her.

“Huh,” he grunted again. In the end, he must have found her wanting, because he chuckled mockingly and started walking towards Wilzig, ready to simply ignore the young woman with the tranq gun.

The gun hissed sharply as Lucy pulled the trigger. The dart hit the noseless man in the chest, and his smile faltered along with his steps as he looked down at it. But he stayed on his feet, and Lucy watched in confusion as he simply plucked the dart out of himself, inspecting it between gloved fingers for a moment before his smile returned and he looked up at her.

“Well, now, that is a very small drop in a very, very large bucket o’ drugs.” He flipped the dart away from him with a turn of his wrist, and Lucy watched, wide eyed. Why hadn’t it worked? It had worked on everyone else she had ever fired it at, and those raiders were almost certainly on drugs as well. She started to lower her weapon at the same time the noseless man raised his, aiming straight for her.

“She said stand down, Ghoul .”

Behind them, the sound of small jets heralded the appearance of a man in power armor as he landed on the roof of one of the buildings behind the noseless man that he had called ‘Ghoul.’ Wobbling slightly, the armored man flew down, so he was standing at ground level with them, sending leaves and garbage flying around the marketplace. Lucy smiled in surprise at the entrance. If anyone could help the situation, this man seemed to be the one. Lucy had read about power armor before.

“Knight Titus of The Brotherhood of Steel. Stand down, or be cut down.”

The Ghoul was looking at the knight now, his smile having fallen at the interruption, though his arm stayed up and the gun pointed at Lucy. Then the smile came back, mockingly.

“You gotta be fucking kiddin’ me,” he said. Then, with a chuckle, he turned back to Lucy. She realized she had seen children have this same reaction before in the students at school in the vault. Many of them opted for the exact opposite of what they were told to do, just like he was about to.

Eyes widening, Lucy stared as the Ghoul pulled back the hammer of his gun. From the side, she heard the pounding of heavy feet as the knight charged in and tackled her. The bullet pinged as it deflected off of the power armor, and then the two of them were crashing through the wall, back into Ma June’s Sundries.

***

“Please,” Lucy said.

“You’re gonna wanna remove that gun, friend,” the Ghoul said at the same time in a much more threatening tone. Lucy wanted to give him a dirty look, but she was afraid to take her eyes off of the gun barrel. Not that staring down it was going to save her if the man pulled the trigger.

The man with the gun grunted. “As far as reasons go, that’s a pretty shit set if I ever heard one.”

Lucy was starting to feel a little wobbly. She hadn’t thought the wound had been that bad at first, but given that it had been the Ghoul that shot her, albeit accidentally, the bullet was likely not of the regular sort.

“We were just passing through,” Lucy said with as much strength as she could muster. “We didn’t mean any harm.”

The man didn’t look convinced, but he hadn’t pulled the trigger yet. The child tugged on his sleeve and spoke quietly, though Lucy was close enough to hear.

“She took a bullet for me, Dad.”

“A bullet shot by her friend there,” the man reminded the child, but the child simply kept staring up at him meaningfully. Lucy watched their little debate, and shook her head to try and clear it.

“Hey, I’m not feeling so great here, you know, because of the bullet, so I’m just gonna sit down if that’s okay,” she said, and half collapsed onto her butt. She hadn’t even felt this bad with a knife sticking out of her side. Behind her she heard movement as the Ghoul came over to her side, pressing his hand down over hers to increase the pressure on the wound, muttering another curse under his breath. She was pretty sure she heard something about the first rule. The dog snuffled around at her side, whining quietly, giving Lucy’s face a lick.

“Come out to get some food and run into this nonsense,” the man grumbled. “Take this,” he said to the child, handing them the gun. “Keep it trained on the ghoul there, ya hear?” The kid nodded, and the man looked down at Lucy and the Ghoul. “Gotta get her back home if we’re gonna do anythin’ ‘bout that bullet. You draw on me or mine and a hole in yer hat is gonna be the least of your worries.”

Lucy started to nod, but the world swam around her and she felt nauseous. What the hell kind of bullet had that been? He claimed he was just gonna shoot the gun out of the kid’s hand, so surely it wasn’t some kind of poisoned ammo. Before she could ask about it, the sounds around her started to fade out, and Lucy closed her eyes.

***

It has been a long time since Cooper Howard has traveled with company, and the reasons why were being driven home spectacularly at that point. They were not nearly far enough away from the observatory, and now the little Miss Hazard MacLean was going and passing out on him. Literally.

Cooper gritted his teeth in frustration as he felt her go limp against him and put an arm around her to keep her from sliding down into the mud and rocks. So much for only one pace, he thought bitterly to himself.

“I think you better follow me, or she might not make it back to our place,” the man standing over them said. Cooper looked up to find the man had pulled a second firearm, though he wasn’t pointing it at them yet. It would be easy to take him out. The kid would probably lead Cooper back to their home if he threatened enough. But if he drew on them there was a perfectly good chance they could get off a lucky shot on him. Not to mention that they were right. If they didn’t get help soon, specifically in the way of a stimpak, Lucy was going to bleed out here.

“Fine,” he gritted out, and moved to stand, scooping up the limp young woman in his arms without so much as a grunt. Dogmeat stood nervously at his side, sniffing at Lucy’s dangling hand.

The man nodded. “Name’s Rob,” he said, turning to walk away now that Cooper’s hands were more occupied and less likely to be reaching for a weapon.

Cooper didn’t respond. He wouldn’t tell Lucy his name, and he sure as shit wasn’t gonna tell this random stranger. The man led him off of the remains of the road they had been following and out into the marshy, overgrown land around them. Cooper couldn’t see the path they were following, but there must have been one, because the man never faltered.

The kid walked behind the rest of them, and Cooper noticed as Dogmeat started to lag behind as well. Soon enough, he heard the hushed whispers of the kid behind him, and he glanced back in time to see them pull something out of a pocket and slip it to Dogmeat, who quickly gobbled it down. The kid smiled, and Cooper felt something angry twist in his gut at the sight. It was too good, too clean for this world to see a child smile like that.

Just as Cooper was about to lose his patience and demand to know how much further they had to go, he smelled campfire smoke and heard a low buzz of conversation, and the trees started to thin around them.

As they emerged into the open area, Cooper was surprised by what he saw. Three homes, ramshakled together like everything else in the world was, but with plants lining the dwellings in a homely way that one almost never saw anymore. Gardens were ploughed into the much sturdier ground here, and although he couldn’t see it, he heard the mooing of a brahmin. How the hell had this place lasted out here like this?

“Ellie?” the man called. “Eloise! We got some comp’ny needs patching. Got a stimpak to spare?”

Cooper hoisted Lucy up a little more securely in his arms as he looked around. There were at least a dozen people milling about in the crops, and he suspected there were more in the homes, but it didn’t look like most of them were the fighting type. He saw more than one other kid, and even an elderly person or two. Downright unnatural these days. The only way people made it to that age was if other people were taking care of them, which of course nobody did anymore.

From the middle building, a middle aged woman came trotting towards them, something clenched in one hand. Cooper wanted to draw his gun, wanted the safety of its weight against his gloved fingers, but instead all he had was the uncomfortable weight of one unconscious vault dweller.

“We dabbling in cannibalism, now?” the woman said, though it was clear she didn’t mean it. “When you said you were taking Kelly out to look for some game, I didn’t think you’d come back with…” She paused as she reached them, her eyes running appraisingly over the Ghoul and the woman in his arms. “This…”

“I’d watch yer jokes with this one, Ellie. He’s a sour one. I can tell.”

Ellie looked at Rob and then back at the Ghoul and Lucy, motioning for them to follow her. “Come on. Got a place we can set her down and take a look at her wound. Stimpak won’t do much if we don’t make sure she don’t just get re-injured.”

Cooper looked for Dogmeat and found her following closely at the heels of the kid from before, Kelly, apparently, and he scoffed mentally about how easily the dog’s trust was won. Then he followed Ellie as she made her way back to the house she had come from. The whole thing had him on edge. The inside of the house was dim, lit only by the lights coming through the windows, which he noted had no glass. There were lamps and candles around, but they must not have used them during the day to save on oil and wax.

Ellie led them through the halls into a room with a rusted bed frame and a thin, weathered mattress covered in threadbare quilting. He didn’t bother waiting for permission before laying Lucy down on the bed. Glancing down at himself, he was annoyed to see that she had been bleeding on him. His already stained clothes were gonna be even worse after this.

Putting thoughts of his already ruined clothes into the back of his mind, Cooper leaned down and started unzipping the vault suit to get at the wound better, and Lucy moaned quietly. It was the first sound she had made for most of their walk, and Cooper was surprised he was relieved to hear it. Must have been because it would have been a shame if he had killed her on accident like that. If he was gonna kill someone, he'd want to do it on purpose.

Cooper slipped the vault suit off of Lucy’s arms and down to her hips. It was also blood soaked, and the t-shirt she had on under it was more red now than white. The bullet had caught her in the back, barely missing her kidney. Whatever it had torn up inside would probably be fixed by the stimpak, but not if they didn’t get the damn bullet out first.

Taking the finger of one of his gloves between his teeth, he pulled it off, then the other one. “You got some alcohol around here?” he asked. Ellie was already handing him something, and he noted that she had also lit a few lamps and brought them into the room. It wasn’t exactly a surgical suite, but it would have to do. She also held a set of small knives and tweezers. The tweezers looked maybe a little rusty, but the knives looked clean enough, probably.

It was not his best work, as Cooper cut into Lucy’s side after dumping some of the alcohol over his hands and then the wound. The shock of the sting had woken her, and she was whimpering and twisting as Ellie tried to soothe her and hold her down in equal measures. The bullet in question had been coated in a poison that thinned the blood, which was why the vault dweller was losing so damn much of the stuff.

After a few minutes of struggling, Lucy went limp under his hands again, passed back out, he hoped, rather than dead. Otherwise he was doing all this work for nothing. As soon as the bullet was out, Ellie had the stimpak ready, and she injected it at the site of the bullet wound. The injury began to stitch itself up quickly, and Cooper sat back on the floor with a sigh and a grunt. And then a cough. And he kept coughing.

Damn it. He had left his saddlebags back at the road. There hadn’t been time to grab them before Rob had set off and Cooper had been made to follow. While he wheezed on the floor, Ellie set to cleaning Lucy up, wiping away the blood smeared over her torso.

“This a common occurrence for you two?” she asked, and Cooper looked over to ask her what the hell she was talking about, but saw the line of a recent scar on her other side.

“I didn’t do that one,” he said, voice hoarse from his coughing fit. “Only just started traveling with little Miss Hazard here.” He watched the woman wrap a bandage around Lucy, covering the site of her most recent wound. Something in his chest eased slightly at the sight.

There was a knock on the open door behind them, and Cooper turned, reaching for his gun out of habit, but only saw the kid from before standing there with Dogmeat at their side.

“Dad went back to get the rest o' yer stuff,” they said, resting one hand on Dogmeat’s head and giving her ear a scratch. Dogmeat closed her eyes and gave a pleased sigh at the attention. Usually she had to fight to get Cooper to pet her, so right now she must have just about been in heaven.

“Dogmeat seems to have taken a shine to ya,” Cooper said, letting his accent come out thicker than normal. The kid smiled, looking completely different than they had out in the marsh. More at ease. More like a child.

“This is Kelly, mine and Rob’s daughter,” Ellie said from behind him.

Cooper nodded and dipped his head, taking off his hat to inspect the hole in the brim. “Tell me, Kelly, was it you or your daddy that put this here hole in my hat?”

Kelly looked sheepish, curling her now bare feet against the filthy floor and glancing away. “I did.”

Cooper continued to look at the kid for awhile. He wanted to be mad. Well, he was mad, but he didn’t know if he could be mad at this kid. She looked all of 9 years old and like a strong wind might blow her over. If he was that size, he might shoot before asking questions too. Hell, he did that now at his current size and considerable age. “Well, you’ve got mighty fine aim, Kelly. Closest anyone’s got to taking me down in a long time.” He tried to keep his eyes light, so the kid would know he wasn’t taking it personally. “Guess I’ll have to keep an eye on you.” He reached out and gave Dogmeat a little pet. “Maybe I’ll have to have Dogmeat stick with you ‘til we leave, huh? Keep you out o’ trouble.”

Kelly smiled again, and Cooper got the same stab of anger and resentment as he had when he had seen it on their walk before, but he pushed it down again.

“Come on, Kelly, let’s let them rest a spell.” Ellie stood up and moved around Cooper to leave the room. “I’ll bring you something to drink and eat a little later. Holler if you need something before then or if the girl needs anything.” Putting her hand on Kelly’s shoulder, she moved the girl out of the room. Dogmeat looked at Cooper, but he nodded his head towards the departing child, and the dog happily trotted out after them.

“One pace,” Cooper muttered to himself, turning to rest his back against the shabby bed frame. “Ain’t your babysitter,” he added, just as bitterly, requoting the rules he had set down not very long ago for Lucy. Yet, here he was… Babysitting.

A day , Cooper decided. He would give Lucy one day, and if she wasn’t ready to move by then, well, he was sure these folks would be willing to take her in. He could spare a day.

[deus-ex-mona]

ngl i thought that zakenna was going to be an mv set some time in idol sengen s1 before the mv dropped. like, her frustrations could’ve been a reference to her post-first concert flop era, her rival mentions could’ve been referring to lxl and/or asuna, and all the underdog mentions could also have been a reference or two to how she was a complete nobody at the start of her career…

and there was also doromizu line no. 1 from the tv arc which sealed the misconcepton deal s o b s

[fiddleleafedfig]

I’ve been so inactive on tumblr these last few weeks, I feel like. I hate to say it but life have really been at my throat recently (buying an apartment, preparing for summer vacation, seeing family etc etc) really good stuff, I promise, but things that have absolutely stolen all energy.

I have, however, written a surprising amount. And just know, what I have lovingly called the “200k project” has surpassed my longest written fics and is officially the longest thing I’ve ever written (and it’s not even half way done).

For anyone writing out there who sometimes suffers with writing quantity, title your documents with the current word count. It brings little hits of serotonin to change the title, it makes me feel more accomplished than just writing and blindingly thinking I’m not writing enough at a time.

[whatthefuckisasweep]

I will owe you my life if you give us Eddie pulling Richie down so he can smooch his forehead 🥺

OKAY I OWE YOU MY LIFE FOR THIS PROMPT THOUGH BECAUS EIT SPAWNED THIS CUTE IDEA:

I hope that forehead kiss at the end suffices- BUT GOSH I AM SO IN LOVE WITH THE IDEA THAT EDDIE KNOWS EXACTLY HOW TO DESTROY THIS ARGUMENT AND RICHIE CANNOT COMPLAIN

btw im still taking IT requests so if u wanna hit my inbox ill try my best! Sorry to those who requested OCs or unknown media but im probably not gonna do those! :<