#though at this point i think i know what i want my lamb to be like more or less

[theonewhowails]

lambo doodles

[nemesyaaa]

buffalo'66 au ! old!serial killer! rafe x young!sugardoll!reader

warnings : daddy issues/kink. slight of rafe having a god complex. smut. sick love/obssession/behavior. age gap. size kink. gunplay. spit. mean!dark!rafe. mentions of kidnapping/murdering. dark content. be careful with the warnings.

author's note : i think a lot about rafe having a god complex. and the way it could fix him to have a girl who cherish him and love him like he's just the only one. as the same i think a lot of rafe being a cult!leader with a sweet lamb. anyways, enjoy !

you knew you weren't allowed to touch his gun, but you couldn't pretend that the forbidden rules didn't excite you either. the proof being that you were still with rafe even though he had kidnapped you. you had found the glock in the drawer, and now you were having fun with it to the point where you hadn't heard your jailer come home. you were too captivated by the handgun to pay attention to that.

“ will you teach me how to shoot ? ” you asked in a soft tone.

“ obviously not. but i can swear to you that if you don't put the gun right in my hand in a second, i will show you how i use it. especially on a little tiny thing like you. now stop playing and give it to me, sugardoll. i already told you to not get on my nerves. ”

“ are you a serial killer or something ? ” you said to him, not aware about his job.

“ no obviously, i'm a babysitter. see ? how well i care about little silly girls ? ” he answered with the most sarcastic tone. “ i think you already know what i am, but you like playing dumb. because you're desperate for my attention. you need me to explain things, to satisfy your need of validation. that's right ? ”

he moved from his place, and placed himself behind you, your small body caged against his bigger size. you could feel all the pressure of his strength on you, and you started to shiver when his breath came near to your ears.

“ since you want to play with daddy's gun so bad, i'm willing to give you what you want. ”

“ no, i don't want to play anymore ! ”

“ oh i'm afraid to tell it's too easy like that, sugar. the game doesn't stop when you decide. the game stops when i’m done playing. got it ? nod your head if you got it.”

you really started to be his doll, accepting to nod whenever he wants, to use you whenever he feels the need, to move whenever he decides. when you nodded your head, giving him a little look, he grabbed the gun.

“ you will kill me ? don't, i can be good ! ”

“ you can ? no, you will. choose your words better, sugardoll. why are you crying right now ? the worse it yet to come actually. now, open that pretty mouth of yours. ”

you refused, shaking your head. you were terrified that he would kill you.

“ i said open it. if i have to repeat it, i swear that i will snap dry this gun further in your cunt, and everytime a sound will come out your mouth, pushing it deeper inside. do you understand me ? now, don't you want to be a baby sugardoll, full of kindness and sweetness ? show me how sweet and pretty you are for me. and listen to me. ”

with tears on your cheeks, you slowly opened your mouth. you could feel rafe’s smile against your neck. you were so submissive, the perfect victim. he had chosen you well the day he saw you. like a true serial killer, he never missed his prey.

“ this is why you call me sugardoll ? ”

“ see ? i'm good enough to give you a nickname. ”

it was sick but you smiled, you felt like you were special in his eyes. maybe rafe had a collection of little dolls but you felt unique.

“ don't kill me. i'm begging you. ”

“ fuck, you don't know how hard you make me when you're desperate like that. but trust me, i will make you see soon how good you make me feel. it will be your reward for being this sweet for me, sugardoll.”

he spread your legs, holding them wide with his strong hand covering your trembling thigh while his other hand brought the front of the gun down onto your skin. passing the coldness of steel across your tummy, while you shivered at the thought of dying. when he got to your underwear. you had heard his smirk.

"oh sure, you don't want to die. you want to be fucked. it's so wet here, i could stick the gun in without even preparing you, it would slide off so easily.” his mocked tone made you yelp.

“ i'm not controlling myself ! ”

“ and you don't need too. let me take care of you. keep your mouth open. i will put my gun in. ”

“ i can't do this ! it seems very dangerous…”

“ then suck it well, sugar. especially, if you don't want me to empty the gun on your gorgeous throat. ” he warned you, while pressing his lips on your neck. it was not a kiss, but you were so soft for this little touch. you wanted to please him, to see him proud of you.

he rushed the pistol between your wet plump lips, and you almost choked on it. “ be careful, doll, daddy's gun it's loaded. ” he said with a smile that made your tears even saltier.

while you had started to do your job, his fingers were lightly pressed on the surface, fiddled with the trigger. he loved seeing your petrified eyes, he loved feeling your blood freeze inside your veins, the way you resembled a frightened and helpless animal. you were defenseless and he had no limits.

you lapped at the cold metal at first, your tongue rolling over the barrel, swirling like a needy pet, and licking every bit of the object. you didn't waste anything, moistening the weapon with your own spit, some trails dripped down your tits. rafe had pushed the gun farther, almost into your throat. you choked, a trail of saliva raining over your jaw.

there was nothing amusing about it, but he found it fun. you sucked like your life depended on it even though let's be honest, it did. you moved back and forth quickly, rushed every movement with a softly sloppy gasp. he loved, no he adored the view of your ruined face and your mouth stuffed by the cold weapon. your great job made his dick painfully hard. you could feel the gun under your tongue, and the way it abused you. you drooled, a batch of saliva engulfing one side of the charger.

“ slow down, sugardoll, you're about to melt. ”

you felt dirty for being turned on by something so humiliating, the way you were pathetic for every single thing he introduced you to. it was as if he knew what you wanted, and how to exploit it. he could destroy you as well as shape you. you were nothing but the doll he wanted to play with. he knew more than anyone how to make you feel good. he knew well how to play with his toys.

you were killing him slowly with the way you were going about it, your pink tongue tickling the barrel, your mouth swallowing the entirety of his gun. every inch moved in and out of your parted lips. you lost count of the number of times you almost choked to the point you could throw up, you did your best.

the cold air of the room hit the soaked fabric of your underwear. it had gotten so wet down there.

you tried to focus on this dangerous game but you saw his bulge growing, his crotch distorting his pants.

“ keep sucking, i'm not done. ”

“ but ..."

he ignored you and took off his pants and boxers, freeing his hard cock. the next minute he was inside you, completely buried to the point where you could feel him all the way to your stomach. you salivated on the handgun, making a rain all over it.

as he filled you up, his thick cock abusing your tight pussy, the position was totally different, you were lying there, still the gun in your mouth, but now he was fucking you. his eyes were on you, and you could feel that motivating him even more to pounded you. your juices pooled on the surface the deeper he went. the slobber gathered around the metal. he rushed away your tears with his thumb.

“ stop whining, sugardoll. you can't cry when daddy takes you so well. ”

you really wanted to listen to him but it was too much for you. you were full of tears and they constantly wanted to come out, even when you felt good. but it was like the more you cried, the more he bullied your pussy, and by that, giving you more reasons to whine.

“ jesus, i'm pretty sure that you really like that gun in your mouth. ” he said with a firm thrust that made you squirm, your eyes wettering as the sentence. “ you like being this pathetic ? don't worry, i got you, i'm not judging you, but don't mind if i take advantage of it ? of course, you don't mind. you love being this sick, you're just a needy freak. ”

he pulled out before putting it back in you, inched himself deeper and deeper, letting you breathless. he was more rough this time, his fat length stretching you wider. his hips slammed your skin, his sweaty balls slapping you in motion. you nodded your head, your loud moans echoed in the empty room. his heavy hand on your tiny throat, pressuring it every time your walls tighten him.

his big other hand squeezing your small waist, as your core wrapped him harder. “ see ? daddy's making you a new home, right now. ”

his breath was heavy and short, the sweat of his body pressed against yours, while you were about to explode, so close to the orgasm. you were crying even more. and he covered your mouth with his large palm. he hitted the right spot again and again, without a break. you reached the second orgasm quickly, and you waited for him to explode at his turn. but he was taking his time on purpose. he obviously liked to abuse this little cunt of yours, wrecking like it was nothing your cervix. he glared at your glistening eyes with a proud face, while hurting your sloppy cunt. “ be patient, sugar. it's a matter of time but daddy will make you melt, and you will make a big mess on his dick to show how grateful you are ? ”

you didn’t answered, even when he released your mouth from his hands, because of the overheating.

“ you better answer because i can go to the next round. ”

“ yes .. yes !! ”

“ you're so naive, sugar. trusting me this easy, it's your own fault if old men like me use you. like did you really think we will not go on another round ? i'm about to make you dumb. not only your brain, your pussy, all of you. after this, you will not be able to think, to talk and even to walk. ”

your tears made him cum, and you let out a noisy and desperate whimper. “ it's sad for you that i'm the only god you can pray for, because i'm going to ignore all your prayers, making you on your knees every time for nothing more than my own good. sweet lamb, i'm such an uncaring god. but you can't hate on me, even a little, such a pretty precious thing you are. ”

“ why ? ” was the only word that came out of your mouth.

in fact, you were a little sad about this, because you wished that he cared a bit, even an hint about you.

“ nobody deserve you like i do. nobody deserve to touch you, or put an eyes on you, no one. you're just mine, and i need you to understand that clearly. do you got it ? do you even understand what i mean ? i will never let someone have you. never. ”

“ i really love you. ”

“ not only you love me, sugardoll. you adore me, you cherish me, you can't breath without me. do you understand ? how trapped i made you.”

“ bu…”

“ quit crying. you wanted this, you begged for. ”

“ i thought you only wanted to kill me ! ”

“if i wanted to kill you, it would already be done. i don't mind having blood in my hands, i'm a killer after all. but yours, i promise, i would never dream of, sugardoll. ”

it was very sick. but his words made you smile.

“ i want to hug you ! ”

“ don't make me regret my words. i still can choke you to death. ”

“ can i ask a question ? ”

“ jesus, if you don't yap more than a thousandth time each day, you're dead or what ? i swear, tell me your question, but choose it carefully because it will be the last. so, use your dumby brain very well. ”

“ i just wanted to know…if it's the first time you do this with one of your victims ? ”

“ why do you want to know ? ”

“ you need to answer ! ”

“ and you need to mind your own business. ”

“ i asked you a question ! it's not fair if you don't answer it ? ”

“ you better not try to raise your voice at me because i can shout, and trust me, the tears i will bring in your face will not be that pretty. ”

“ you're still mean to me…nothing has changed. ”

“ and you're still annoying. yes, nothing has changed.”

and you smiled at him, your sweet eyes melted on his unhichanged look.

“ someday i know you will love me too ! ”

“ bold to have faith, better to work on it, sugardoll. ”

you gave him a sweet look, even if he was grumpy, you wanted him.

[mehkers]

OM Bro's react to MC having a shrine of them

okayokayokay- everyone shut up and hear me out-

TW: not much? I guess it's a little suggestive, mainly fluff, teasing, just light hearted

Might make the Triworld and the others if people like this 🤷‍♀️

Part one (ur here), part two

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Lucifer

He would be stuck feeling confused, weirded out, and prideful at the same time

Do not tell me that this mf would not break out in the most biggest grin if he finds this shrine you've made of him in your closet

He won't say anything at first

Waiting to catch you off guard

You'll be in his office, helping him with some documents or just chilling there

"I recently found something in your room, lamb.. I did not realize you adored me that much~"

The smuggest bastard ever

He'll tease you for a bit but then let it go

Just know that he will give you more attention, and would even leave small trinkets that would remind you of him to add to your shrine around

"Remember that shrine you made of me? Yes. Do you think I could see it again~?"

Mammon

He wouldn't be able to look you in the eyes

Dude is cosplaying a tomato at this point

He didn't plan on telling you that he found it, it'd just slip out of his mouth

His brothers would be calling him a scumbag or whatever

And he'd just pull you closer by the waist

"MC here has a whole shrine feh' me in their closet! So take it all back!"

It was embarrassing af

He announced it to everyone

And ended up getting flustered

"W-WELL, OF COURSE YOU'D WORSHIP THE GREAT MAMMON!"

He says while fidgeting with his hands and staring at the ceiling

He'll bring it back up whenever if he wants to tease you, but mainly as a reassurance that you do love him (poor bby needs sum love)

Leviathan

Locks himself in his room for even longer

I'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofmeI'mjustayuckyotakuwhywouldtheymakeashrineofme-

"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH-" screaming into his pillow

Please, for the love of anime, PULL HIM OUT OF THE SPIRAL HE'S FALLING INTO

He's first super happy, but then the self deprecating thoughts come

He won't be able to look at you properly for a month straight though

"Y-you.. you really like.. me!?"

Yes, my darling otaku, YES-

Give him two more months to actually be able to talk about it

He'll probably ask to see it again

don't ask about his tho-

Satan

He's...

He doesn't know what to feel

he's seen Levi's shrines (of Ruri-chan, and you-)

Will question you immediately

Like father like son

Will be absolutely smug about it

"Oh? I see.. Why don't you worship me instead of a silly little shrine~?"

Will fluster and tease the HELL out of you

He will constantly ask you about it

He's a little shit sometimes

If you do tell him to seriously stop, he'll respect your boundaries

Oh but he'd be so happy

He'd stand closer to you, holding your hand

You'll find him gazing at you from afar with a soft blush on his cheeks

"Hm..? I'm fine! Apologies for zoning out again.. I couldn't help but- ugh. never mind. You may continue with what you were telling me."

Asmodeus

Will rush over to you and hug you till you can't breathe

You'll have to smack his back repeatedly to get him to let go

Even then he's grabbing you my the shoulders

Shaking the life out of you

And smooching all over your face

"Awwww, I'm so honored! You have a shrine of me!"

Whenever he sees you, be prepared to be attacked with kisses

He is bragging to everyone everywhere

Will beg you to take selfies with the shrine you built of him

It's all over his Devilgram

The entire school knows

He didn't mean to tease you, he's just suuuuper happy that his favorite human feels the same way about him!

"I love you SOOO much! <3"

Beelzebub

You can find him snacking on the snacks you probably left there

He doesn't really mind it

He couldn't careless about it, but seeing you embarrassed and worried made him feel sad

"Mc... Don't worry, let's go to Hell's Kitchen together."

All in all, he's pretty chill about it

In a week or so he'll bring it up again and ask you about it

Once you explain it, his cheeks were redder than Diavolo's hair

"I didn't know you felt that way. It makes me oddly happy.. and hungry."

He's more protective of you now, keeping an eye out for you and even leaving snacks for you around

The cute bby is always following you around with Belphie in tow

Belphegor

He was looking for his pillow when he found it

The shittiest of all little shits

"Mccccc, guess what I found in your closet~?"

He's so smug

Watch him brag to Lucifer especially about it

He won't tell everyone about it, but he will mention or hint at it if he's particularly jealous

Like Beel, he wouldn't really care much

Buuuut, he would totes use it to his advantage all the time

"C'mon Mc, ignore the others and nap with me! Unless you want me to tell the whole school about your little secret.. Kidding! Just come here, I'm sleepy."

Geez, this took like- 3 hours I think. I never knew it was that hard to write these.. well, it is past midnight- I'm gonna sleep now 😭

Hope you enjoyed this random hc I pulled out of my ass

[obeymestory]

I don't know if you do these, but could you make a scenario of the demon brothers taking care of MC while they're pregnant with their kid?

Of course!! I was kinda waiting for someone to ask me to do one of those things. <3

Warning!!: Slight mature mentions!! Hope you enjoy this though my dear lambs.

✒ Lucifer 🖋

Would be shocked at the first mention of you being pregnant, asking you to take a test to confirm the pregnancy if you hadn't already, then putting his hand on your belly and feeling a huge sense of admiration towards you for carrying his child, as well as a huge sense of responsibility.

Would do his best to make sure you're always comfortable.

Would help you downstairs even when you're just a few weeks along.

Would probably have you near his desk on something comfortable while he does his paperwork so he could be there immediately if your water were to break.

Would think your food cravings were strange but would fetch the food for you immediately.

Always pick things up for you, even if you just dropped something.

Probably be more stressed in the delivery room than you were because of him wanting everything to go smoothly, and because he's worried about you and your guys' baby. "What's taking the doctor so long?" (Referring to the doctor being late, you're the highest priority to him.)

Have Barbatos make you tea every night to help you relax, especially when you start having contractions.

Would rest his hand gently on your belly while you're napping near him, happy to be the father of a new soul.

Probably wouldn't have coitus with you until he knew it was alright, and even then he would make sure to be gentle, resting his hand on your belly while he pleased you, mainly only focusing on your satisfaction.

Be more focused on you to the point where Diavolo or his brothers would have to do some of his paperwork while he took care of you.

When the baby kicks he immediately rests his head gently on your belly, having a small smile on his face as he remembered that he helped make such a lovely being. "I can't wait to meet you."

💰 Mammon 💸

Would think that you were messing with him at first upon telling him about your pregnancy with his child.

Always wanting you not to be too active and to constantly be comfortable.

Would instantly fetch your cravings and not question them.

Would rest his hand on your belly and rub it every now and then when you both were spending quality time together, especially when watching movies.

Would talk to your belly like the baby was able to listen, mostly complaining about how the baby was making you feel during pregnancy. "Why ya' always gotta make yer' mommy throw up, huh? She's doing all this work for ya', so ya' better be a good kid when ya' come out."

Would freak out as soon as you said your water broke, rushing to get you the care and doctors you needed.

Would probably try stacking poker chips on your belly, considering it both quality time for you and your guys' baby.

Would worry about you during contractions, pouting the whole time and asking if he could do something to ease the pain.

If you were to suggest coitus to him, he would accept immediately, then process what you said and ask if it's okay to do while you're pregnant. He'd be rough or gentle for you as long as you and the baby were safe. "Yes! ...Wait- is dat' okay for us to do?"

Would constantly ask if you were okay, and if you weren't he'd comfort you to the best of his abilities.

When having hot and cold flashes he'd probably fan you with a wad of cash or wrap his arms around you to warm you up.

🪼 Leviathan 🍡

Would think that you're pranking him at first as you said that you were pregnant with his baby, then once you confirmed that it wasn't a prank he'd tear up and hug you happily. "Not funny Y/N... you shouldn't joke like that... w-wait... r-really? I'm gonna be a daddy? *sniffles happily*"

Would cuddle you constantly and hum anime intros as he rubbed your belly, picturing showing your guys' baby a bunch of anime as soon as they were born.

If you were to suggest coitus he would be extremely hesitant to agree, and he would only finger you or eat you out.

Would turn on your favorite anime while you were having mood swings.

Would not know what you meant when you said; "my water broke" and would gasp and instantly call out for his brothers to help you as he made you all comfortable. "Hmm..? Your water broke? What does that mean? O-oh... OH!! The baby's coming!! GUYS- THE BABY'S COMING!!!!-"

Would caress your belly as you had contractions, giving you a worried expression.

Would probably suggest names for the baby first, and the names would be based on anime characters you like, not what characters he liked, what characters YOU like.

Would let you play video games when you had more severe mood swings, like extreme anger.

If it came to it, he wouldn't be mad if you ended up accidentally throwing up in his tub-like bed, he'd clean it up and start putting a little trash bag near you so it wouldn't happen again.

Would buy you a whole new bed so you weren't uncomfortable laying in his tub-like bed.

Would gasp as he saw the baby kick, asking if that hurt you or made you uncomfortable.

📚 Satan 🐈‍⬛

Would blink as you told him you were pregnant with his child, he would promptly close his book and blush deeply, still taking a full minute to process what you just said then get up and pull you into a tight yet careful hug. "You have no idea how happy I am."

Would read a bunch of books on human pregnancy, wanting to know how to take care of you during the next nine months.

Would have a good idea on how parenting goes, but would still check out a bunch of books from the library about parenting just in case there was something he didn't know.

Would read you a bedtime story every night, keeping one of his hands on your belly as he read from his book.

If you were to suggest coitus he would agree, having learned that it's beneficial during childbirth, and wanting to satisfy your needs as much as possible, being gentle and sensual the entire time.

Would pick everything up that you were to drop, hold the door open for you, and help you down the stairs without hesitation.

Would suggest healthier foods if you were to ask him to go get certain things you were craving, but would abide by your wishes.

Would already be prepared for you to throw up, keeping a trashcan nearby you at all times.

Would make sure you're laying on your left side whenever you would take a nap or go to bed.

Would put both of his hands on your belly as the baby kicked, being extremely happy, especially if the baby would constantly move, knowing that it meant the baby was healthy. He did feel bad that you were uncomfortable every time the baby moved though.

Would have you in the royal medical room as you reached your last month of pregnancy, wanting to be entirely prepared, and remaining beside you no matter what, even if you were to say that you were fine and he could go do his usual things. "No. I'm not leaving you both whatsoever."

Since he was a straight A student he could just skip school to take care of you.

💄 Asmodeus 💅

Would gasp and widen his eyes, covering his mouth at the revelation of your pregnancy, squeaking happily and kissing you lovingly, immediately suggesting name planning. "Oh my goodness!! We need to start thinking of names!!~"

Would agree to coitus, but would be gentle, he'd also do it as many times as you wanted.

Would massage you every night, especially your breasts since he knew they were producing milk and were gonna be sore soon.

Would wash you in the bath and take care of all your self care needs.

Would hold your hair back carefully as you threw up.

Would shower you with compliments, especially when your belly starts growing in, knowing you might be insecure about yourself due to your body changing but saying that he loved you no matter what. "Oh hon. You're gorgeous... especially your skin. It's so radiant and youthful, I'm so jealous~"

Would whisper sweet nothings and comfort you as you cried or had mood swings.

Would design a HUGE baby shower for you both.

Would paint his and your nails to the color the gender was revealed to be.

Would record a video of the baby kicking, happy tears welling up in his eyes as he replayed the video over and over, asking for your permission to post it on Devilgram.

Would kiss all over your belly and murmur a soft "I love you~" to your belly every night before murmuring the same thing in your ear.

Would help you to the hospital gently and carefully, holding your hand all through labor and giving you little whispers of encouragement the entire time.

💪 Beelzebub 🍔

Would take a whole six minutes to process you telling him that he made you pregnant. "Wait-....Really? We're having a baby?"

Would carry you everywhere and anywhere, no questions asked. The bathroom, downstairs, the kitchen, the delivery room, etc!! (He'd even wake up to help you to the bathroom.)

Would not mind your food cravings, but he's making you eat a bunch of healthy stuff afterwards if your food craving wasn't healthy.

Would watch your belly with sparkles in his eyes as the baby kicked, putting both of his hands on your belly. (It's like that gaze he gives whenever he sees food.)

Would love to go out and buy baby stuff with you, especially baby clothes.

Would place a piece of his meal on your belly, calling it; "Feeding the baby."

If you were to ask to have coitus during your pregnancy, he'd put his hand on your belly and get worried about the baby, needing you to tell him it was good for the baby beforehand, and he'd do it rough or gentle for you, just as long as the baby was okay.

Would pick up everything for you, carrying everything you were attempting to carry, and holding the door open for you if you did convince him that you were okay to walk instead of being carried everywhere by him

Would let you squeeze his hand as hard as you needed during labor, staying beside you no matter what and giving you encouragement just after the doctors do.

Would probably give you hot or cold food when you were having hot or cold flashes. He'd give you cold food when you were hot, then hot food when you were cold.

Would immediately learn to start carrying a vomit bag around for you just in case, rubbing your back as you threw up.

Would get scared at first once your mood swings started happening, feeling guilty until you or one of his brothers reassured him that it was part of pregnancy.

🌌 Belphegor 💤

Would gasp as soon as you said you were pregnant, diving down and resting his head on your belly for a while, nuzzling against your skin and having a dorky lazy smile on his face, knowing you were carrying his baby.

Would definitely join you for naps, offering to massage your chest before he used them as pillows.

Would definitely use your belly as a pillow at one point, listening for movement with his ear pressed against your skin.

Would definitely help you make a nursery, "testing" the baby's bed to make sure the baby would be comfortable. "Hmm? Oh. I'm making sure the bed is okay for our baby. Would you like to join me?"

Will always make sure you're comfortable and laying on your left side when sleeping.

If you were to suggest coitus he would do it very gently, knowing that you were more sensitive now and treating you very delicately.

Would hum or sing soft lullabies to you and the baby to help you fall asleep.

Would probably become more clingy during this time, helping you everywhere and caressing your belly whenever he had the chance.

Wouldn't mind your mood swings, offering his body pillow to punch if you ever got angry to the point where you needed to blow off some steam.

During labor he'd ask Beel to help carry you as he comforted you all the way to the delivery room, caressing your hand as you squeezed his hand for dear life.

Would probably suggest some constellation related names. "Maybe Cygnus? For a boy. Or... Andromeda? For a girl?"

(Hope you enjoyed this!! My ask box is still open, so feel free to ask or send anything!!~)

[introcoryo]

— au where you’re reaped as sejanus plinth’s tribute from district 2, and he breaks into the arena to get his final goodbyes in.

coriolanus can see the brunette’s jaw tighten in his peripheral vision when highbottom announces that he’ll be mentoring one of the district 2 tributes. that tightness is followed by a deep, deep scowl when the reapings are aired, and your sweet, lamb-like face is shown on the now, sejanus notices, glaring screen. he has half a mind to storm out, but instead swallows thickly to fool his brain into thinking he’s calm and collected.

he remembers you, as if a remnant from a previous life. sejanus knows this is a shameful way of thinking. he’s no capitolite. they can throw as much money as they want at him, keep his stomach full and plump of steak and apple pie, give him the so called luxury of attending the academy, but he knows his name will metaphorically never leave that reaping bowl. for each year the hunger games have commenced, three names were picked from district 2. a boy’s, a girl’s, and sejanus’s. he is in that arena with them, although not physically. and that is what hurts him most. his name, although not verbally chosen and spoken into a microphone, is amongst that litter, and yet he has the privilege, like every capitolite, of leaving the arena every year when the victor is announced, when his fellow district 2 tributes do not have that option.

upon first greeting you at the capitol zoo, a stinging pang shoots through his throat. he has absolutely no idea how he’ll be able to mentor you without completely destroying himself in the process. it’s eating him up inside; this hope that the academy has indirectly forced you to place in him. how that hope, crushed, would leave as you, god forbid, would have to take your final breaths in that arena, with nothing to attach to that despair but sejanus’s face.

you’re timid at first. you too, remembered this familiar face. the big brown eyes, never dull of emotion. long, fluttering eyelashes. he’s much taller now, with curly hair that looks like raw hazelnut under the sun. with the way he’s looking at you, you figured he did not outgrow his tenderness. it was no look of pity, though, but a look of understanding. of sharing your fear, instead of accepting your fate. that made you feel a comfort you haven’t felt since standing in your district’s square.

after a few minutes of silence, of examining each other wordlessly, communicating with shared gazes, sejanus decides to speak up first, albeit everyone knowing it is his heart that speaks for him.

“i am so, so sorry for—”

he begins, but you stop him. there wasn’t a point to this, you think. unless he was the one who picked out your name specifically, why would he even feel the need to apologize? that certainly won’t change anything.

“it’s fine. it’s not your fault. i know, big elephant in the room, i’m behind bars at a zoo. the odds just weren’t in my favor. i’m not sure they will decide they like me later, either.”

sejanus clenches a hand around one of the steel bars at your pessimism, but how can he blame you? he has no hope himself, how could he even possibly think you would? he wishes he could effortlessly bend the barrier separating you two with his palms, grabbing you by the hand and running off somewhere else. somewhere safe. somewhere hopeful. he knows he can’t, and that leaves a shake in his voice as he chooses his next words delicately.

“i just… if there’s any way i could help you, guarantee that you would… walk out of there unharmed…”

“well, i saw the district 12 girl with her supposed mentor in here. inside the zoo. you’re mine, i assume? do what a mentor has to do. mentor me out… and some food won’t hurt, either.”

at the mention of that, sejanus’s face slightly lights up, and he reaches into his scarlet colored blazer pocket, taking out a wrapped napkin and handing it to you. you reach through the bars to take this mysterious item from him, fingers lingering just a bit, and unwrap it to find a sandwich, diagonally cut. you smile wistfully at the simple meal before you, this being the very first act of kindness you’ve been on the receiving end of since coming to the capitol. so much for hosting etiquette.

“thank you, sejanus, really… here,” you say in an unanticipated small voice, holding out one of the pieces.

the brunette freezes. you’re still kind. all of this, and you’re still kind. perhaps that’s all you’ll ever be. perhaps that’s what will be what dooms you in that arena. you will try to speak heart to heart, not sword to sword. he loathes that he’s thinking this way. he absolutely despises that he knows you will not be able to walk away from this without staining your hands red, but what has made a home in his chest is the miserable feeling of not knowing whether you’ll be able to do that. he’s district. he will forever be district, a vow he made at birth. but here he is, standing in front of you, free. here he is, handing you food as though you truly belonged in that zoo. he is everything you wished you could be in that moment, and yet you still decide to share your meal with him, despite the rumbling coming from your stomach. he wants to take it. wants to act like this is a normal picnic that you two are having together, but he knows you need that full sandwich. he knows you should take all you can get.

and so he declines politely. you begin to talk about the changes in district 2 since he’s left, and how life continued, yet everyone was stuck. sejanus emphasizes. he listens. but the dread has not left his system. he starts to think about how he’ll see you in another life if this one wasn’t enough. there’s so much time on the other side, and here it all feels like a constant countdown. never knowing if your time will be cut short. he mentally chastises himself; he needs to be optimistic. he needs to be here for you, now. he needs to think about the life you’ll have when he gets you out, not if. soon enough, you’ll believe it too.

to say that sejanus was a complete wreck watching you enter that arena would be an understatement. the cameras capture your soft features so well that you look displaced. lost. you shouldn’t be there, he thinks. no one should be there. the tears that built up in a split second blur his vision, and when the bell rings, he is there, running as a district 2 tribute.

sejanus watches as you take his advice, as you run and hide immediately, and he is kept at bay through at least that. he can’t lose it now. not when you’ve placed your entire life bare in his hands.

but sejanus is weak, too. he feels too much too often. his thoughts are frantic, and he finds himself in that arena the following night. the thumping in his chest intensifies as the voice at the entrance pleads him to enjoy the show, and he scoffs at that. he checked the cameras before coming, so he knows exactly where you are, and he’s so overwhelmed with the thought of seeing you that it doesn’t register that he has now, momentarily, taken the path he very well could’ve lived if he had not moved to the capitol. sejanus plinth, district 2 tribute.

light footed, he makes his way across the arena, and up the stands. he saw you come out of hiding when it was safe out, when most of the tributes were either asleep or in the tunnels, gathering a weapon or two from the cornucopia then settling on high ground. he figures you were startled once you heard the automatic greeting that played when he walked in, so he whispers your name.

he whispers it again. so delicately. laced with so much sweetness, it feels wrong to say it here.

and then a third time. the syllables now come out desperate. overwrought. he can’t leave without seeing you. touching you. it will break him.

“sejanus?” his ears perk up, and he looks around, frenzied, trying to distinguish the direction your voice came from. you peek out from one of the stands, and when you find those big, brown eyes looking back at you, you pick yourself up entirely and run to hold the man before you. the man who rushed into the possibility of death head on just to wrap his arms around you. he’ll face it all, just for that. oh how he wished you knew how badly he wanted to swap your places.

“you’re… but how? why? it’s dangerous here—” sejanus wastes no time, cupping your cheeks and diving in to kiss you. his hands are holding on to you for dear life, as if his knees will give out without the support. his eyebrows are knit together, focused on the feel of your lips on his. they’re dry, chapped, and cracked, but he doesn’t care. he swipes his tongue along your bottom lip to give you some relief, making a mental note to send you some water as soon as he leaves.

he kisses you until it hurts him. until his lips are swollen and red. until the way you’re tightening your hands on his broad shoulders feels as though it’ll leave bruises. when you break the kiss to breathe, he tries to take you all in. to memorize everything. he desperately needs a pen and paper right this moment so he could draw you as accurately as he can, lest his memory fails him later.

the automatic voice sounds again, and only you turn your attention to the entrance. slowly comes coriolanus snow, the district 12 girl’s mentor, and his eyes scan the arena before they land on yours. you nudge sejanus lightly to direct his gaze to his friend, but he wants more. he can’t leave now. he can’t leave you. not like this.

“it’s okay, sejanus. i’ll be okay. help from the outside, and we’ll see each other again in no time.” you whisper, a tiny bit unconvincingly, eyes glossy. “just take care of yourself, okay?”

sejanus’s lips quiver, and he too whispers. you don’t believe it’s because of the other tributes, but because if he were to speak normally, only a sob would come out.

“you are myself. please take care of me.” you glance down and nod at that, tasting the saltwater that came rushing down your cheek. he wipes the trail that settled along your face, and begrudgingly makes his way to the blond.

sejanus is motivated by the thought, the need, to get you out of there. no matter the methods he uses. no matter the consequences he faces. he has the resources to buy you more time, and he finds himself not above exploiting them.

[a-case-of-attachment]

The Lamb & The Serpent

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7

Lucifer Morningstar x sinner fem!reader

Rating: 18+

Warnings: Lucifer being a chaotic mess, mentions of sex, swearing, slow burn, mentions of depression, Charlie being the best supportive daughter, awkwardness, mentioned of death and violence, ducks of the rubber kind, Lucifer being awkward, fluff.

Please click -> here <- to read on AO3

The day Lucifer manages to fuck up a perfectly good friendship by realising he wants more from you is the day he walks in on you and Angel Dust watching his latest porn video like it’s a documentary and not a three way that looks more painful then pleasurable.

It’s the middle of the day, the two of you down in the parlour, spread over the largest couch and acting like it’s no big deal to be watching a friend get split open by an aggressively large rhino looking man and an equally intimidating elephant guy whose trunk isn’t the only big thing he’s packing. Though to the little porn star it probably isn’t anything all that unusual and by the way he’s going on, talking about camera angles and lighting you would think it was some kind art piece. Anyway, it’s not the porn that has Lucifer questioning his life, though that stirs something at the back of his mind that he will circle back round to latter. Much latter. When he’s alone. Preferably in his bedroom. No what Lucifer realises is that he wants to be where Angel Dust is.

The lanky demon was stretched across the sofa, his bare feet in your lap so you could slowly rub your thumbs into his soles as you both spoke about the film like it wasn’t a crass tasteless violation of the man. It looked so domestic, peaceful and Lucifer wanted that to be you and him with a desperation he hadn’t felt in centuries. Though maybe with his head in your lap instead of his feet, your fingers carding softly through his hair as the two of you just exist together in the same shared space. Oh, he could almost feel it, the ghost of a feeling that he hadn’t had in so long. 

It was round about then, as Lucifer was just about to get lost in his little fantasy that Angel noticed he was there, eyes going wide momentarily before a suggestive smile spread across his face. He had made a rather unwanted comment about Lucifer not needing to “hide all the way back there handsome, there’s plenty of room for you to slide right in. Or maybe you want a private show? I could go for a little quality time with daddy.” Lucifer wasn’t. Interested that is. Well not in Angel Dust anyway. “Noooo. No, no, no. Non. Nein. Nee. Just no,” Lucifer had repeated himself several times, just to make sure he got his point across and pointedly ignoring Angel’s rather dramatic gasp and nonsense answer of Lucifer having broken his heart.

Whilst Lucifer and Angel had been talking you had turned to look over at him, clearly surprised by his presence but it quickly softened into something fonder, something that had Lucifers insides twisting like he was full of snakes. Had that always been the way and he just hadn’t noticed? Lucifer had liked having your attention in him for quite some time, but it was hard to tell if that was because he just liked knowing you were actually focused on what he was doing or because he got a little buzz of possessive satisfaction, knowing that he was the only thing you were focused on. Either way Lucifer didn’t dislike having your eyes on him and he would be quite happy to be the only person who held your attention in such a way.

You welcomed him the same way you always did, tipping your head forward slightly and addressing him as “my King.” Not your majesty, or Sir or Sire but as if he was your own personal monarch and oh boy, wasn’t that just something. He really liked the idea of being yours. Your anything but especially your king, your ruler, just yours in general really. Lucifer could feel his cheeks getting hotter as the realisation sank in, his grip tightening on his staff as he fought of the urge to shiver under your gaze. Oh, this was bad, so very, very bad. 

You pulled him out of his little panic by asking if he was there to see Charlie. The simple answer to that innocent question was no. Lucifer was at the hotel with the sole purpose of seeing you and hopefully convincing you to abandon whatever you had planned and help him with his ever-growing rubber duckie horde. A rather lame excuse if he had ever heard one but he was running out of legitimate reasons to get you to spend time with him more often than you usually did. He couldn’t tell you that though, so he eagerly jumped on the excuse, excitedly talking about wanting to “spend some quality daddy daughter time with my little Char Char,” and cringing when he remembered what the little spider had just said to him. It sounded off even to him, his forced cheer falling flat at the end and trailing off into an awkward laugh. You didn’t seem to notice his obvious discomfort though, smiling softly at him as you informed him that “Charlie and Vaggie are out at the moment, said something about meeting with Carmilla to discuss angel defences. They didn’t say when they would be back.” Lucifer felt his heart drop, his rather rubbish excuse at being at the hotel now completely useless thanks to his poor planning.

He was just about to make his excuses and go back to his ducks when you said the best thing, he had heard all day and asked him “do you want to stay? Angel gets a little too into his performances (hey!), and I would like the distraction when he really starts getting descriptive.” Lucifer jumped at the chance, blurting out a loud and eager yes before you had even finished talking. Both you and Angel startled at his outburst and Lucifer cleared his throat, trying to regain his composure as he told you that he “suppose I could help, though its going to cost you little lamb. Those little duckies aren’t going to count themselves.” He hadn’t expected you to agree but you had sticking out your hand for Lucifer to shake as you claimed it a deal. An innocent statement on your part but left Lucifer feeling taken aback by how easily you had agreed, then again you did like his duck collection, so it probably wasn’t that much of a sacrifice on your part.

You don’t stop smiling as you push Angel's feet off your lap, the man groaning and rolling his eyes as he moves to slump in the corner, giving you enough room to move up and leave a spot for Lucifer at the end. He feels incredibly stiff and a little awkward as he sinks into the space, sitting ramrod straight with his hands on his knees. He doesn’t know what to do, has never just casually hung out like this with people that weren’t you and he’s not sure if he’s supposed to be watching Angel Dust’s performance or if he would have been better off just making some sort of excuse and going back home to wallow in his awkward patheticness. You shift next to him, curling your legs up under yourself and leaning it towards him. Your breath is warm against his ear when you speak, sending a shiver down his spine and causing his cheeks to heat again. All you said to him was that you were “glad you decided to stick around,” before turning your attention back to the tv and starting up a conversation with Angel once more but it was enough to have Lucifer relaxing, his strained smile slipping into something softer and more genuine. 

Lucifer was still there when Charlie and Vaggie came back, except somewhere along the way he had ended up getting involved with yours and Angel’s conversation. He wasn’t quite sure how it had happened, but Lucifer had found himself deep in conversation with Angel about the importance of foreplay and how “Valentino always skips it! It’s like he doesn’t understand how to please someone. It adds to the experience, gets everyone involved really going and trust me it makes the main event that much more pleasurable. That idiot just skips to the end like he’s going to blow within five seconds of getting anything on his dick. Oh! Hey Charlie, err, how much of that did you eh hear?” It wasn’t the ideal thing he wanted his daughter to hear him talking about, but he was surprisingly having fun. Plus, he had gotten to see you blush like a maiden when he had first mentioned about the benefits of having such a flexible tongue so he couldn’t say he regretted being part of it.

Charlie had been rather embarrassed about the subject of choice, even more so when Angle piped up and informed her that he was “learning all sorts of fun things Charlie. Like did you know that most women can’t get off just from getting a good dicking, they need murph!” Lucifer had been quick to put a stop to the conversation, shoving a pillow over the other mans face and shoving him off the couch. Ignoring yours and Angels giggling Lucifer had quickly strode round the couch and towards his daughter, grabbing his abandoned hat and cane as he went. He successfully managed to distract Charlie by asking “how was your day sweetie? I heard you went to see Carmilla Carmine, that must have been fun. Tell me about it.” Charlie had started talking almost instantly and Lucifer waisted no time in gently turning her around and ushering her away from the other two and the porn that was still playing quietly on the tv. 

Lucifer was listening to Charlie, hanging on every word and taking in as much information as he could because he wanted to know everything about his daughter but then he had caught movement out the corner of his eye and all his attention had snapped back to you. You were leaving, laughing at something Angel was saying as he draped himself dramatically across the back of the couch.  You spotted Lucifer staring almost instantly, offering him a bright smile as you waved, calling out about how “lovely to see you my King,” before disappearing up the stairs towards the bedrooms. Lucifer waved back sadly, his eyes following you until you disappeared from sight. The world felt that little bit dimmer as soon as you were gone Lucifer already missing your bright smile and cheerful disposition. Whilst his attention was on you, he didn’t notice the knowing look Charlie and Vaggie shared, or the way Angel Dust rolled his eyes and collapsed back onto the couch with a huff.

The weeks after that were weird to say the least. Lucifer didn’t know what to do with his newly realised feeling or the guilt he felt about moving on from Lilith when it had barely been a handful of years since she had left. He was a bit of a wreck actually, spending far too much time with his rubber ducks and complaining about how hard feelings were to deal with. It didn’t help matters that Charlie was finding every excuse she could to push you and him together. Anything from getting him to help you with things around the hotel, to sending you to pick up bits from his home that Charlie hadn’t shown an interest in for decades. 

You were always a good sport about it when the two of you found yourselves forced together again, laughing and making jokes about it and Lucifer did join in but it was strained as he panicked about how he was supposed to act around you now that he knew that this friendship between the two of you wasn’t enough. It was confusing and complicated, not helped by the fact he had no idea how you felt about him. Lucifer knew you liked him, at least as a friend but that was very different to liking him enough to let him smother you in kisses and worship at your feet. 

He had been out of the dating game for so long now, well actually he had never really been in it considering he had fallen for and married the first woman he had come across. He had zero experience with this kind of thing, and he highly doubted offering you an apple was going to do anything apart from make sure you were being fed. As much as it pained him to admit he needed help with this and there was only one person he felt comfortable enough with to even bother asking about this kind of stuff. 

Charlie was over the moon when he had finally managed to drag her away from the hotel and gotten out what his problem was. Lucifer could admit to himself that he had been worried about how she would react, fearful that she would think he was betraying Lilith, but Charlie had amazed him once again because she had been “so happy for you dad. I was, well after mum leaving you kinda closed yourself from everyone and I worried that you would you know, end up all alone. But not now! I mean look at you, going outside and talking to people. That’s amazing progress dad.” That had broken his heart a little, knowing that Charlie had been so worried about him ending up alone. Lucifer had done the only thing he could think of in the moment, pulling Charlie into his arms for a hug whilst thanking her for looking out for him and reassuring her that as long as he had her, he would never be alone. 

Charlie had laughed it off, brushing away her tears as she insisted that she wasn’t going anywhere. That had gotten Lucifer welling up, happiness welling up inside his chest until it felt like it was going to burst. He had been so worried that he had messed it all up with Charlie, convinced that no matter what he did it was never going to be enough to make up for the distance that had existed between them nearly her entire life but hearing her say that had been, well it was the best thing he had heard since Lilith had told him she was pregnant. It had been a rather emotional moment for the both of them, but it had brought them closer together. The gap between them that much smaller. 

The rest of his visit had been spent with Charlie coming up with a plan on how to win you over, convinced that Lucifer stood a real chance at taking possession of your heart. Lucifer wasn’t so sure though. Sure, he could be confident and charming but that came from being king and so much more powerful than everyone else stuck in the infernal blaze. He hadn’t needed to woo someone before. Lilith had just wanted someone to treat her like an equal and respect her whilst Eve had wanted to be free of her chains. It wasn’t like there had been any kind of competition either, Adam such a shitty husband that it had been easy to tempt his wives away from him. Though he had filled the earlier years of his and Lilith’s relationship with romantic gestures that had been very different to what humans now considered to be suitable displays of affection and he doubted you would be won over so easily with a horde of imp minions like Lilith had been. 

Charlie had so many grand plans, Lucifer franticly taking notes on things such as simple gestures like holding doors open or offering you an arm to hold as the two of you walked down the street all the way to those grand gestures like breakfast in bed and lavish gifts like diamonds and expensive perfumes. It was a lot and that didn’t even include all the date ideas she was throwing at him, Charlie already planning a romantic picnic on the hotel roof like it was a sure thing you would say yes when he asked you out. Lucifer had to put a stop to her grand schemes then, insisting that maybe it was too soon to be planning dates when he hadn’t even asked you out yet. Reluctantly she had agreed and instead they had circled back round to the little things, the simple gestures he could do to test the water before moving on to bigger and more obvious ones. By the time he left Lucifer had somewhat of a plan on how to win your heart and if there was a slight skip in his step then there was no one around to see it. 

Over the next few days Lucifer had started to implement his plan, starting with complimenting your outfit and making sure he opened every single door you went through if he was there. You gave him a few weird looks, but you never told him to stop so he considered it a win. On top of that he started to text you more, just little things about his day that he hoped would make you smile. He even phoned you a couple of times just to hear your voice. Though that had been a bit awkward. Lucifer wasn’t the best at holding conversations on the phone and the first time he had called you there had been a lot of lulls in the conversation, but you had still picked up the second time he called you, seemingly already prepared with conversation points that drew him in and had the conversation flowing easily in minutes. 

When you didn’t seem to dislike the attention, Lucifer had moved onto the next part of that plan, eggier and nervous all at once because he was about to get bolder and more obvious about how he felt. 

The most important part was to be more tactile with you. A brush of a hand here, a touch on the back there, maybe even brushing a stand of hair out of your face and sitting close enough together that he could press his leg against yours. In theory that was all fine, more than doable really, but the problem was that Lucifer hadn’t really touched anyone single Lilith and especially not in a way that was supposed to suggest something a little more intimate was wanted. Lucifer was touched starved, and he wasn’t sure he would be able to stop once her got to feel how soft and warm you are under his hands. Sure, he was excited for this part but that didn’t change the fact he was oh so nervous about it to.

What if you hated it? What if the very first time he tried to touch you, you told him get off and get away from you only to never speak to him again. It was a real worry, one that had him tugging at his hat and pulling his face as he shared that worry with Charlie, crying and whining about how “she’s going to hate me Charlie, I know it. As soon as I get a finger on her let alone a hand, she going to tell me to get lost and never want to speak to me again.” Charlie doesn’t say anything until his panicked and overly dramatic rant was over with, letting him get it all out even though some of the things he said were quite ridiculous. Once he was done though she had taken his hands in hers, offering a soft and reassuring smile whilst telling him that it was a “chance you’re going to have to take if you want to be with her dad. I don’t think she will turn you down, especially considering how much she’s been talking about you but there is always the possibility that your feeling might not be returned. Its something everyone has to consider when asking someone out but dad, of your serious about Y/N then it’s a risk you need to be willing to take and if not, well. At least things haven’t gone far enough that you can’t still be friends.” He’s stunned by her incite, her maturity. His little girl had grown up so quickly and was now a bright young woman capable of doing anything she put her mind to. Lucifer truly was proud of her and everything she had accomplished and didn’t hesitate to tell her whilst thanking her for being so open and honest with him.

His conversation with Charlie had left Lucifer with a lot to think about. His pride meant he didn’t handle rejection well and he knew that if you turned his advances down that there would be a period of time where his depression took over and he went back to making more silly little ducks then he knew what to do with. It would hurt to lose you because he really didn’t think he would be able to be around you afterwords without being rude or petty and he really didn’t want to be the reason you got hurt or upset. Maybe it would be better if he squashed down his feelings and just counted himself lucky to have you as a friend because he didn’t have hardly any of them, not real ones he could trust and be honest with. Asmodeus maybe, he could keep a secret and wasn’t all about the fucking like people assumed but it had been a while since Lucifer had spoken to him and well, he had never felt as close to him as he did you. The point was Lucifer didn’t want to lose you and if there was even a small chance that him carrying on with his courtship would result in that then wouldn’t he just be better off staying friends and being sure in the fact that he wouldn’t drive you away. 

The whole thing leaves him distracted and confused, Lucifer often getting lost in his thoughts when there were more important things he should be concentrating on. He doesn’t notice the concerned looks you and Charlie give him, or the hushed conversations as you glance nervously at him. He just doesn’t know what to do and he hates it, hates the fact that he feels so out of his depth when he had been so sure where he stood with you before all this romance rubbish had started. In the end though Lucifer doesn’t have to make the decision himself because you decide for him, and he couldn’t be happier. 

In an attempt to foster some sort of camaraderie between the hotel’s guests Charlie had implemented a monthly movie night where they each took turns to pick a movie they enjoyed in the hopes that it would get them all talking. Lucifer had accidentally become a part of that, Charlie having inverted him to join months ago in an attempt to spend more time together and get him out the house and Lucifer had just kind of carried on turning up, often sitting between you and his daughter and often needing one of you to explain what was going on because he had lost the plot after the first couple of minutes. Neither of you seemed to mind, even though you all knew that sometimes he did it on purpose, liking to hear your creative descriptions of what you were watching. 

This was a regularly scheduled event in his diary, so Lucifer hadn’t really though about not going until he found himself sat in the middle of the sofa, Charlie and Vaggie curled up together on one side and an very obvious space for you on his other side. He sat ramrod straight, hands clutching at his knees as he tried to come up with a plausible reason as to why you shouldn’t be sitting next to him. His mind came up blank though and before he knew it you were dropping down next to him with a sigh. You didn’t speak to him as you got yourself comfortable and Lucifer couldn’t even bring himself to look at you let alone talk to you. It felt weird, so different to how it had been, and he couldn’t help but wonder if this was how things were going to be between you now, the same yet not. 

Lucifer completely missed the first half of the film, eyes fixed on the screen yet not actually seeing it. He was just waiting for it to end and the chance to get away from this weirdness. He didn’t notice yours and Charlie’s silent yet rather animated conversation behind him, or the others looking at him like he was some new kind of crazy. He didn’t notice your loud sigh as you slumped down next to him, or the unsure looks you kept shooting him that slowly turned into determination. What he did notice though was your arm looping through his, your hand curling around his arm as you shifted closer to him. 

Lucifer was surprised his neck didn’t snap from how quickly it snapped to the side, eyes wide and mouth hanging open as he looked down at you with shock and bewilderment. You were nibbling at your bottom lip, ears turned down slightly and eyes fixed on Lucifers knee, looking very much like the innocent little lamb he often teased you about being. On the screen something exploded, the flash of light illuminating your eyes as you finally looked at him. Lucifer was captivated, trapped in their glow and oh how much he had missed this, having all your attention on him like he was the centre of your universe. You never took your eyes off him as you moved in close, leaning in so he would hear over the tv when you whispered, “is this ok?” Lucifer had barely managed to get out a yes around the lump of excitement that seemed to have formed in his throat. 

The smile you gave him was blinding but no where near as amazing of the felling of you leaning into him, your head resting on his shoulder as you turned your attention back to the tv. Lucifer continued to watch for a while, mesmerised by your ever-present smile and the way your eyes light up with the light from the tv. All his worries and fears about allowing himself this vanished the moment you had touched him because this felt right, like everything just clicked into place. And to think he almost missed out on this. With his own content sigh and smile Lucifer relaxed into it, one hand resting on your bent knee whilst he raised the other to cover your one that was curled abound his bicep. He let his head tip slightly, resting it against the top of yours and just enjoyed the closeness. He didn’t notice Charlie squealing behind him or Angel Dusts eye roll and mumbled “about damned time.” Lucifer was lost in his own little bubble of contentment and nothing short of an angel attack was going to change that. 

From then onwards Lucifer was an unstoppable force of wooing. He had no problem invading your personal space after that, nor did he mind getting his hands on you though he had been right, once he was allowed to touch Lucifer found it very hard not to and not to mention how all this innocent skin on skin contact was making him think about all the other less innocent touches he could be bestowing upon you. That had led to a few embarrassing moments where he had needed to excuse himself rather quickly to avoid you noticing what was happening. It also resulted in some rather pleasant dreams that he was always reluctant to wake from, knowing he would be left feeling disappointed and guilty when he finally opened his eyes.  

Complements came thick and fast as did the gifts though he had to admit he might have gone a bit overboard with some things. Like filling the entire hotel with white roses that smelt like freshly made popcorn or making every kind of food he could think of appear when you said you were hungry. In his excitement he might have forgotten about plates and Vaggie really hadn’t been too happy about the stack of pancakes that had ended up on top of her head. Though you had found it funny, using your fingers to scoop up some of the ice cream that was dripping down his face before licking it off your fingers. Lucifer had never really understood food porn before but that right here was enough to convert him. 

Other things had gone over better. Like a bottle of perfume that smelt like freshly cut grass, a crystal ball that swirled with the colours and patterns of a universe and your own personal rubber duck that Lucifer had spent weeks experimenting with so it would act like an actual duck, though he might have gotten it a little wrong because it had a few dog qualities that he hadn’t quite been able to get out. But hey, you had loved it, so Lucifer considered it a win, even if the thing growled at people every now and again. The first time he had seen you with the silly little thing perched on your head he had nearly combusted with how cute you had looked. He had taken what felt like thousands of photos, following you around the hotel and telling anyone and everyone you passed how adorable you were only to snap more photos as you blushed at his compliments. He would have been happy to continue just showering you with gifts and compliments, happy that he was making you happy, but it wasn’t quite enough. Lucifer wanted more and he wasn’t going to get that with expensive gifts and sugar sweet words. 

When he had been with Lilith, they had gone on the grand total of three dates and considering one of them was when she was still in the garden Lucifer didn’t really count it as an actual date because all they had done was sit next to a secluded lake and talk. It had been nice, real nice actually and from that one little date their relationship had blossomed and grown into something Lucifer would cherish for all eternity. It’s not exactly up to par with modern standards though and Lucifer really didn’t want to rehash his old material. It wouldn’t be fare to Lilith and it sure as hell wouldn’t be fare to you. You weren’t a replacement for his ex-wife and Lucifer really didn’t want you to ever think that was what this thing between the two of you was. So, he needed new material, something that was uniquely suited to you and guaranteed that you would say yes when Lucifer asked you to be his. 

The other rings were out considering you were a mortal sinner and couldn’t leave the pride ring. A shame really because they really did have some amazing restaurants and bars down in gluttony that he thought you might have enjoyed. It would have been nice to take you to Lu Lu Land, Lucifer able to show off his most successful creation, well second most successful next to Charlie. But just like gluttony that was out of the question. That left him with the rather nauseating thought of doing something in Pentagram city and that was a solid pass on his part because the city was a huge disgusting dumpster fire of nope full of psychopathic freaks that Lucifer would rather not have to deal with when he was trying to be all romantic and suave. 

It left him with a rather stressful dilemma, Lucifer locking himself away in his workshop as he tried and failed to come up with anything he thought was worthy of your time. It had him pulling at his hair and throwing his ducks around in frustration. This shouldn’t be this hard, mortals did it all the time and yet he couldn’t come up with anything better than afternoon tea in Cannibal Town because despite the fact it was full of flesh hungry sinners it was still the nicest part of this trashy city, he just didn’t think you would be a fan of being given finger sandwiches made from actual fingers. Groaning he had slumped forward, banging his head on his desk and mumbling about how he was “stupid, stupid, stupid. Of course she wouldn’t want to eat people, that’s gross and weird. Come on Luci, think, think, think.” With a headache forming and the sense of pathetic failure growing, Lucifer was saved in the form of a text from Charlie, asking for his help at the hotel. It was like a switch being flipped, the conversation he had with his daughter all those weeks ago coming back to him in full clarity. It was perfect, a plan already starting to form in his mind, and it was with a maniacal laugh that Lucifer snatched up his phone and called Charlie, roping her into his plans. 

It was a lot easier from then on, Lucifer knowing exactly what he wanted to make it perfect for you. Charlie was more than happy to help, even getting the other residents of the hotel to keep you busy so you wouldn’t notice what was going on. You weren’t stupid though and Lucifer knew that you had suspicions, especially when everyone was being a bit too obvious about keeping you away from him whenever you caught a glimpse of him around the hotel. It was worth it though, Lucifer proud of what he had managed to accomplish. All that was left now was to get you up there and woo the socks off you. 

Everyone played their part, pretending that Angel Dusts little piggy had run off and organising a search party to find it before that no-good Radio demon eat it. You were given the upper floors to search, including the roof and all Lucifer needed to do was wait patiently for you to find him and his surprise. Patiently lasted all of five minutes though and as the seconds ticked by he began nervously bouncing on the balls of his feet before giving in and pacing around the small space, muttering to himself the whole time about how it was taking you “so long. It’s just three floors you should be done by now. Maybe he should go and find you, speed things up a little.  No, no, no. The whole point is you’re supposed to be up here to surprise her Luci. What if you go down and she gets here before you find her and ruins the whole thing. Fuuuck. What to do. What to do.”  Just as he’s about to start pulling his hair out Lucifer hears it, the loud groan of the roof access stairs being pulled down. He quickly scrambles to get in position, fixing his hair and grabbing up the bouquet of red and white roses that fallen to the floor as his distress grew. He had taken off his jacket and hat, stashing them away along with his cain to go for a more casual look, a wide smirk plastered across his face as he tried not to bounce excitedly.

He heard you before he saw you, your mumbled complaints carrying up as you flung open the access hatch. You weren’t looking his way when you climbed out onto the roof, still muttering under your breath as you brushed dust and dirt off your clothes. Lucifer remained silent though, holding his breath as he waited for you to turn around and look his way. When you finally turned to him you gasped, hand flying up to cover your mouth as you stumbled back slightly. Lucifer laughed nervously, thrusting out the bouquet of flowers toward you and awkwardly greeting you with a “hey you.” You regained your composure quickly, smiling softly as you made your way over to him and tacking the flowers with a quick thank you. Lucifer stood there for a long few moments, his brain having come to a sudden hault as he watched you lift the bouquet up to smell the flowers. They weren’t real roses; you didn’t get flowers like that down here, but Lucifer had done his best to recreate them though he couldn’t really remember how they smelled so he had made the white one's smell like freshly made popcorn and the red ones like candy floss. You didn’t seem to mind, humming appreciatively as you stared back at him. 

You had pulled Lucifer out of his little daze by leaning to the side to look at the scene behind him, asking if “that’s what you’ve been up to all day?” Eager to show you what he had done Lucifer nodded, enthusiastically taking your hand and pulling you along with him. There was a large blanket on the floor, practically surround by a mountain of cushions and other blankets. There were more flowers, big vases of the roses with candy apples and fern leaves dotted throughout, with candelabras strategically places around the edges of the blanket to give the area a warm glow. He had champagne on ice, two glasses waiting nearby and several platters of food that could be easily picked up with their fingers. 

You gently placed the flowers you had been holding on the floor before sinking down onto the cushions, Lucifer following close behind and sitting close enough to you that your legs touched. Glasses of champagne were poured, food offered and the two of you slipped into easy conversation. It was surprisingly intimate, the sounds of the city nothing but a dull murmur in the background. From their advantage point they could see almost all of pentagram city, all the way from Imp City to Cannibal Town. Though all of Hell was his to rule this was Lucifers domaine and though it was quite literally on fire in some places he still wanted to show off how much power he had though knowing he was the King of Hell had never seemed to mean all that much to you.

As the evening went on and the champagne slowly disappeared the two of you got closer until Lucifer was leaning back against the cushions with you tucked up against his side, an arm draped over your shoulder as the two of you sat in silence and looked out across the city. It was comfortable, Lucifer felt comfortable, like himself for once but he knew he had to break the peaceful little bubble the two of you were in because he had a rather important question he needed to ask and if he didn’t ask it now, well, he wasn’t sure if he ever would. 

Lucifer put his mostly empty glass down before nervously clearing his through. That caught your attention and had you turning to look at him before he was ready. Whatever you saw on his face had you frowning, placing down your own glass so you could turn more fully to look at him. Lucifer could tell you were about to say something, but he couldn’t afford to lose his nerve, so he held up a hand to stop you, telling you that he “need to err ask you something?” So, what if it came out more like a question, at least he had managed to get it out. Your eyes widened slightly, ears twitching up and mouth forming an ‘o’. With a reassuring smile you took his hand in yours, nodding encouragingly and waiting for him to continue. 

Swallowing the lump that was forming in his throat, Lucifer glanced off to the side, tugging at the suddenly tight collar of his shirt. He felt your hold on his hand tightening, his eyes darting back to you and that look of reassurance and excitement that gleamed in your eyes. It was enough to calm his nerves and he placed his other hand over the tops of yours, taking a deep breath before asking that one little question that was sure to change his life regardless of the answer you gave. “Would you, like to date, me?” 

Your smile widened, stretching at your cheeks and looking almost painful. Freeing one of your hands from his you placed it on his cheek, thumb rubbing gently across it. Your voice is so soft but full of certainty and something Lucifer didn’t want to say was love, not yet anyway. It was a simple “yes Lucifer,” but it had his heart soaring like he was flying high above the city.  Lucifer couldn’t help but laugh, flinging himself forward and wrapping his arms around you in a tight embrace. He was so happy, couldn’t quite believe that you had said yes but still unapologetically happy that you had. You laughed with him, wiggling in his hold until you got your arms free, looping them around his neck. Lucifers grip tightened around your waist, pulling you in just that little bit closer. It meant that he had to tip his head back slightly to look you in the eyes but that wasn’t a hardship, especially not when you leant down, eyes darting to his lips then back up to his eyes. It was a silent question, one Lucifer answered by tipping his head back more, his eye closing and holding his breath as he waited for you to bridge the gap. 

Your lips were soft against his, just a gentle brush against his as if you were testing it out. Lucifer dug his fingers into the fabric of your dress, a content sigh passing from his lips to yours. That seemed to be the only permission you need because in the next second your lips were firmer, slow and confident as you traded one kiss after another. It was everything Lucifer had hoped it would be, as sweet as candy apples and just as addictive.

So lost in one another neither of you noticed that the access hatch was slightly open, or the two sets of eyes looking out from the darkness. You didn’t hear the muffled cheers or the even more muffled complaint about how “disgustingly lovey dovey those weirdos are going to be now? I guarantee ya, every five seconds they’re gonna be making cow eyes at each other and professing their love. I already feel sick just thinkin’ about…Ow! Watch the goods toots.” You didn’t see the rather annoyed radio demon down below twiddling his mic in his hands or Charlie sticking her head out of a window and gesturing upwards franticly. You didn’t hear him huff and roll his eyes or him waving his mic around until colourful explosions of light filled the sky behind you. The two of you were completely oblivious to the world around you, lost in the moment. 

Neither of you had thought this was how things would end up the first time you had met and though you were both aware that things wouldn’t be as easy as they seemed right now you were willing to take the risk. Sure, there would be ups and downs, things that would need addressing like Lilith and the wedding ring Lucifer still wore and the fact that you were a sinner, bound to the pride ring. There was the hotel and heaven to consider, not to mention all the threats from within hell. Those were all things to worry about latter though because for now, with you in his arms and his relationship with Charlie so much better than it had been Lucifer was happy and nothing could take that away from him. 

At least for now. 

@lxkeee

[cobragardens]

The Golden Lion

For all that Aziraphale is the more frightened of the two of them, Crowley is the snake: he camouflages himself carefully, and his first instinct is always to flee.

Aziraphale's is to stay. He insists on facing the Apocalypse. He insists on facing the Second Coming. He insists on trying to make a difference. He doesn't want to go up to Heaven, but he does it anyway, alone, because he wants to stop the destruction of Earth (again) and keep Crowley safe.

He's very difficult to shame, too. He never gives up his innocent pleasure in eating, even though Heaven, Hell, and probably people on Earth all mock him for it. He's soft and he remains soft, even after Gabriel shames him for both his physical and metaphorical softness. That takes a lot of strength and an unshakeable character.

You know the gold ring Aziraphale wears as a badge of office, that functions as the counterpart to Crowley's snake tattoo? The charge on that ring is a lion.

The heraldic attitude of the lion is rampant (i.e., reared up): it stands on its hind legs with its forelegs raised, as though attacking, and its head is forward-facing: it looks forward, toward the future.

Obviously in popular symbolism, lions represent bravery, and that definitely fits Aziraphale. He's literally leaving the only person who has ever loved him to go make the universe a better place for that person and for everyone, and he's going alone amongst the people who have despised and shamed him his whole existence and tried to kill him at least once; those people are mfing Heaven and have been entrenched in their power for thousands or millions of years. It doesn't get a whole lot braver than that.

In Christian symbolism specifically, the lion represents Christ. (He's referred to in the book of Revelation as the "lion of Judah" because the heraldic symbol for the tribe of Judah was a lion and Jesus was said to be from the tribe of Judah because his [step]father Joseph was from Judah.)

Normally when a story draws a parallel between a character and Christ, the parallel is one of self-sacrifice. That's not what's happening here. When symbolism for Christ represents his self-sacrifice, Jesus is invariably associated with a lamb--the sacrificial lamb--not a lion. When that symbolism represents Christ's mercy or holiness or divine nature/ordination, the dove of the Holy Spirit is used.

But the lion is a symbol inherited from the Old Testament. It represents royalty, power, threat, and seizure from others by force. Jesus is symbolically depicted as the lion upon his return to Earth during the book of Revelation. The lamb is Jesus' self-sacrifice and death for the sins of humanity, but the lion is Jesus' return, powerful, royal, and triumphant.

Does Aziraphale's ring foreshadow his involvement in the Second Coming of Christ? Probably! Is it a symbol that Heaven is the proverbial (and biblical) "lions' den" where they should be doves and lambs? Maybe.

I think it more likely that Aziraphale himself will be the lion, on a righteous rampage like Jesus chasing the moneylenders from the steps of the temple, telling them "It is written, My house shall be called the house of prayer; but ye have made it a den of thieves." Because the ring is a signet ring, meant to impress a seal that legally represented the wearer as an individual. So the lion is linked to Aziraphale himself.

Aziraphale is soft. It is one of his very best qualities. And soft and weak are not the same thing: because he is soft, he tried to kill the Antichrist, a child. Because he is soft, he stood alone before a demon in defiance of the will of Heaven and demanded with no power whatsoever to back him up that the demon spare children whose murder God had authorized. He, an angel of God, worked with a demon to deceive the Heavenly Host and, as he points out himself, thwart the will of God. Even before that, because he was soft, Aziraphale gave humans the gift of fire and self-protection and then lied to God Herself about it. I mean it literally does not get any more courageous than that.

And I can't stop thinking about what that lion, and that softness, and the link between the two is going to mean for S3.

[jellynotbees]

Any extra thoughts on the Narilamb shipwreck idea? How does Narinder try to lure the lamb into the water? Why does the lamb eventually fall in? How big do you imagine seamonster Narinder is? Please OP it was such a big brain idea and i need more.

Oh boy do I

Copy pasted abstract idea dumps from my notes:

- Narinder bringing lamb food when they can’t find any/letting them know what is safe to eat and what is poisonous (obv he doesn’t want his meal poisoned no other reason duh)

- Lamb is a real yapper and constantly ask narinder about life as a siren and the things that he has seen

- Narinder refuses to answer their questions at first but eventually is worn down and starts answering and just never stops after that point

- Narinder brings lamb items from shipwrecks. At first its to try to lure them into the shallow, but he underestimates just how fast they can run and they get away with the items. After that though at some point whenever he finds something he thinks they’ll like he’ll bring it to them. After the catch incident he starts bringing them shiny and valuable things (ex gold, pearls, etc.) which is silly of him because they have no use for it on an isolated island but they appreciate it nonetheless. (Its weird siren courting I mean huh)

- Narinder thwarts any attempt on their part to be rescued/leave the island and sinks ships that get too close (at first to keep his meal but later to keep his lamb)

- Narinder ends up bringing lamb materials to help them make a pair of makeshift shears because they kept overheating because their wool gets too long at one point

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

oooh I got one! prompt 74 with any of the follower!bishops, where they get hurt on a crusade and reader, who is a healer finds them and helps them <333

74) "I think I broke my leg!"

.......

"I can't believe this...betrayed by my own-!!"

"Lord Kallamar?"

Surprised by the voice, Kallamar looked up at you, the figure dressed in white tattered robes, clean of any and all ichor. The metal halo behind your head reflected the sunlight from above Anchordeep, making it seem as though it were glowing.

Now he remembers.

You're one of the many nameless Healers in his former army of cultists and devotees. He thought most of them were culled by the Lamb at this point, yet you were somehow still alive.

"You have returned to us in such a miniscule form." You mused, to which you saw him tense up, trying to shuffle away.

So far, every creature here was trying to kill him during his crusade, and he wasn't sure if you were going to be any different.

He knew should've gone to the tailor first; at least they wouldn't attack him on-sight just because his red robes remind them of the Lamb..and that his defeat permanently shattered his image as a leader.

"Back away from me! I'm---ow!!!" Feeling a sudden sharp pain in one of his legs, Kallamar stopped moving and looked down, realizing it didn't look quite right. "Ah...a-ahaha...I-I think I broke my leg...!"

"Do not fear, my lord. I will make it all better." Floating down to the ground, you gently reached your hands out to him, green magic appearing from your fingertips. "How did this happen, if I may ask?"

"Well..I fell.." He mumbled quietly, and you looked at him, mishearing him.

"What happened?"

"I-I fell while fleeing from one of those sea creatures..." Red dusted his face as he averted his gaze, embarrassed to be seen like this--especially by someone he used to rule over.

But you seemed to show absolutely no bias nor resentment towards him, even though he now wore the same robes of the enemy cult.

Part of him was afraid you'd refuse and leave him to suffer on his own, although he remembers that your singular job is to be a healer. And despite knowing that he wasn't some all-powerful god anymore and allowed himself to be beaten by Lamb into submission...you wanted to help him anyways. You didn't huff or laugh or show any indication that you thought of him as pathetic for breaking his leg over a simple fall.

Instead, you quietly allowed your magic to go to work, mending the broken done and repairing the torn flesh. Soon it set itself back into place without causing him further pain, making it good as new.

Like nothing even happened.

"You should be good now, my lord. Do be careful with your new mortal vessel." Bowing your head, you rose to your feet and watched as Kallamar slowly got up.

"Only now I see how fragile this body is..damned Lamb.." He grunted, checking out his leg before picking up his backpack. Then he gazed up at you. "What's your name?"

You blinked. "My name..?"

"Yes, that's what I said. I never knew your name, but I wanna know it now."

"I see, then...I'm [y/n]." You answered, surprised and flattered that he asked.

It's been so long since you've said your name to anyone, that you've almost forgotten it entirely.

"Well, [y/n]..would you care to accompany me for the remainder of my crusade? I was sent to retrieve as many crystal shards as I could carry...but I keep running into dead ends, and death traps.." Kallamar shuddered. "And I-"

"You needn't worry, my lord. I would be happy to join you." Although he couldn't see your smile under your hood, he could hear the delight in your voice, and chuffed.

Why were you so kind to him? Why did you treat him as though he was still your ruler?

"None of this bothers you at all?" He vaguely gestured to himself. "You don't see me as your "enemy"?"

"I only see the injured and the sick, and I heal them." You assured him, chuckling softly. "Do not fret. It matters not what form you take or how limited it is, my lord-"

"Okay, I'm not your "lord" anymore. Just Kallamar is fine."

"...very well, Kallamar. Then let us go. I know a safe path."

[dontfearrr]

for my good friend ! this isn’t silly at all i think it’s so endearing :) @legolas-fan-blog

short and sweet as some would say

Lion and the lamb…or fawn?

gif not mine:)

summary: Reader comes across an injured fawn, Legolas is quick to assist his lady.

Pairing: Legolas x f!elf!reader

Warnings: none

Category: fluff

Word count: still working on this💀

—————————-

The crisp air of the morning kisses your pale cheeks, blowing back your long white locks as your eyes fell shut at the content feeling. Though elves weren’t prone to the cold or anything of that matter, it still was nice to experience every now and then. Your bow was in your right grasp while your head was pointed upward to the sky.

That was until you got a feeling that ran through your abdomen all the way up to the tips of your pointed ears. It took you no more than a blink of an eye to nock an arrow. Pointing in the direction of where your nose told you to. You saw nothing, even your elvish eyes couldn’t see anything near or around you.

WHOOSH.

Your eyes widened at the fallen object in between your feet, it was a bright red apple, pierced by an arrow. Your eyebrow lifted in curiosity seeming as it didn’t look like a threat.

“it would seem as if you’ve let your guard down little one!” a familiar and eye rolling voice shouted as his figure hopped branch to branch until he landed in front of you on two feet as if he was a swift cat. You drew your bow back, placing the arrow back into its holster that was latched to your back along with your bow as you crossed your arms.

“Legolas, you should know it is rude to sneak up on a lady.” you spoke to the white haired ellon with amusement laced in your words. He flashed you a playful smile and reached for the arrow that pierced the apple and pulled it free, taking a large bite of the juicy fruit before stretching his arm toward you, offering it.

You took the apple, copying his actions then handed it back, more like pushing it into his chest with fake arrogance. You heard him chuckle behind you, followed by light, nearly silent footsteps of the princling while you continued your walk through the green forrest. You were there out of boredom, wanting to wonder around and find things you could take back home to add to your collection. So far you’ve found a rock in the shape of a star and a perfectly shaped acorn.

“what brings you out here, my lady?” Legolas spoke as he caught up to your side, beaming down at you like a sweet child with his bow in hand still, a habit the young prince has picked up over the many years he’s been alive. “simply boredom. Elrond has been quiet these days so i’ve had much free time on my hands. i come here to collect meaningless trinkets.” you said, glancing up at his smiling figure, returning a smile.

“care for some company? i’ll be as least annoying as i possibly can, my lady” he teased, knowing he knew how to strike a few nerves in you, never upsetting you but as if he was a lost puppy perhaps. He was a good friend of yours, though you cannot deny the small feelings your heart bared for him.

“i’d love some company, however i better not see anymore rogue apples flying my way.” You giggled a little half way through your sentence at his childish manners but it never failed to entertain you, and he knew that. “deal” he never dropped his proud smile as the two of them walked through the soft evergreen.

You two made conversation until your ears perked up at a sound of displease. You laid your arm across Legolas’ chest to halt his movements and he raised an eyebrow in confusion until he too heard what you had. You jogged toward the sound, hopping and swinging on branches to fasten your movements, Legolas followed suit. To your surprise you spotted an injured fawn laid across the forrest floor, blood pouring out of its leg as it cried in agony. Your heart poured into the scene as you carefully approached the gentle creature. You examined the fawn, making sure it had no other injuries.

There was an arrow pierced through its small thigh, it quivered and jerked at the pain. “god damned hunters” you grimaced at the thought of those wretched beings, cursing your beloved woodland.

“Legolas do you still carry those healing herbs on you?” He nodded and swiftly unbuckled his belt that held his leather pouch and handed it to you. He crouched on the other side of the fawn and looked up at you in worry, he knew how much the forrest meant to you, along with everything in it. He would be damned if he were to stop you from doing such. “i’ll break the arrow and carefully remove it, you’ll need to hold the creature down.” Legolas said in a hushed tone, rubbing your arm gently to comfort you, noticing your obvious sadness, your lip beginning to quiver.

You simply nodded and searched through the princes pouch, finding the herb you were needing and laid it out. You bit the bottom of your dark green undershirt, ripping a long piece of it and laying that out as well.

You took a deep breath and ran your hands down the poor creatures torso, putting enough weight to hold it down but not enough to hurt it. Legolas gripped the arrow and snapped it as if it was merely a twig. He slid the arrow out of the wound of the leg and tossed it elsewhere and your eyes squeezed shut, wishing to block out the sounds of the suffering fawn. You then opened your eyes and looked up at Legolas before taking the piece of cloth you ripped from yourself and cleaning up the blood that spilled then taking the healing herbs and took Legolas’ bow from the ground since it was the closest thing and used the end to crush the bright green herb. Once it was a paste you spread it across the wound of the fawn and Legolas held the leg for you so you can tend to the other side as well.

The wound visibly already began healing and you used the same cloth to wrap around the wound to keep it from getting infected. Legolas gave you a smile and helped you clean up the supplies. You stood and whispered a few words in elvish and watched the fawn stand up on its own and run off into the greenery.

Legolas stood next to you and placed a hand on your waist, you jumped in surprise, not ever having been touched in a way by Legolas. “i admire you, little one. you have a good heart.” he looked down at you with his sweet smile. Your eyes lit up in appreciation and it was almost as if you felt yourself blush. Legolas’ eyes visibly widened and his teeth appeared in his smile.

“i may be a fool but i know when someone is flustered.” his thumb ran across your reddened cheek and you huffed. “you’re a good friend Legolas, i don’t think there’s anyone else that would’ve helped me do such a thing. you, my prince, are the one with a good heart.” you said to him and took the hand that occupied your cheek and held it to your mouth, kissing his porcelain fingers.

“well…i smell quite the grapefruit tree near by, shall we?” the tips of his ears heated and he held out his arm for you and you latched onto him, continuing your walk through the forrest with no other than the prince of Mirkwood.

[mariyekos]

Thinking again about Yuna's story in FFX and how powerful it is to see a character who, after having spent so long not only anticipating but accepting her coming death, decides she wants to live.

The scene in the Macalania Woods is good for several reasons, but it's that part that gets me the most. She is meant to be a martyr, and for so long she was content to be a martyr- or really just a sacrifice, she wasn't doing it for her own glory but the salvation of her people- but after actually going out and experiencing all the world she wished to save had to offer, she decided that she didn't want to die after all. But! Even though she wants to live! She's so devoted to her people and the cause that she can't turn away no matter how much she may want to live now, even though her eyes have been opened to how good life really is.

And that to me is the tragedy. Which, to be fair, doesn't end up turning out how she expected, because in the end the one who pushed for her to live is the one who not only had to die, but came to accept his own death. But in the moment? When you don't know how things will go? God it killed me. Even now, every time I get to that scene in a playthrough I have to stop and take a deep breath because my knowledge is not Yuna's knowledge, and knowing how scared she is and how uncertain her life has become just before its supposed end is a punch in the gut.

I don't know. I'm just rambling here. But that moment was so, so important to me as a person. Still is. There are so many things to live for. People love you, and they want you to live them. If you sacrifice yourself, it will not fix everything, because there will be those left behind who will mourn you.

For so much of her life, Yuna had been okay with the idea of dying. Not because she had a death wish; Yuna didn't seem actively suicidal. But her attachment to life was less than her devotion to her cause. Death was a worthy sacrifice she was fully expecting to make.

...Until finally, after seeing the world she wanted to save and meeting Tidus, who had not grown up in a world which normalized such sacrifice and questioned why things had to be this way, she had that eureka moment of realizing how good life was and that she wanting to live. And as she sobbed in Tidus' arms, it made me cry too.

Because man. Man. The power of wanting to live. The switch that was flipped. The beauty of life and all it has to offer in the short time in which you have it!

There's a point to living. Yuna learned to want to live. But she still had to die (or so you think), and man is it a punch to the gut when the sacrificial lamb, who for so long accepted the inevitability of its sacrifice, realizes it does not want to die as it is in the final stretch of the march to the altar.

FFX is an amazing game and Yuna is one of my top FF characters. I love her so much. I love FFX so much. What a character! What a game!

[neon-virus]

Now ramble shall be under the cut since this also touches on stuff that will be relevant for my fic so, spoilers maybe?? (Also i am no expert in making stuff sensical, so this is mostly shiet ive slapped together thats sitting in my brain)

also excuse any errors, english is hard :D

SO! the crowns.

I've made a lil sketch comic about Shamura and Nari talking briefly and Shamura referring to them as 'beasts'. I like to think that's what they are, parasitic like beasts.

They require strong willpower to withstand their influence. The crowns cannot do anything without someone to wield them, but if that person cannot resist the influence the crowns exert, then they will start to lose themselves to the crown.

The process depends. If the person is of weak mind, then they could become instantly consumed by it the moment it touches their brow. They would no longer be who they once were as the crown infects them in entirety and claims them for its own, eating their essence and making them effectively a shell for its own control.

Of course, these 'bodies' can still die, and once the crown no longer has its host, it becomes inactive.

But if you have a strong will, it comes down to a fierce endurance match, where the crown will try its damnest to break past your mental walls, to weasel its way in until you either give up or the crown submits.

Once submitted, it will effectively be 'inactive' in trying to influence the host, becoming a tool to be used and melded to its host's will. However, suppose that the host falls into a low point or has a grave vulnerability. In that case, the crowns will become active again, seeing their host is becoming weak and thus a perfect opportunity to influence and gain control.

For the bishops, this wasn't much of a problem outside of the initial wearing, at least until Nari started to question. Although Narinder is a very strong-willed person, the red crown still whispers to him, influencing his thoughts in the background and encouraging him until he ends up in his predicament of being imprisoned and leaving the bishops injured and vulnerable themselves.

Though the crowns can be given to others in smaller capacities or abilities granted to others, such as appointing them a vessel, they typically gain access to what is deemed necessary for use and not much else after that.

However, lamb was a bit different. Due to Nari knowing about the prophecy and the lamb showing absolute devotion, he gave her more access than she should have had and gave the crown room to sink its teeth in.

Granted, the crown quite likes lamb, almost imprinting onto her from her sheer strength of will and determination for revenge. It sought no reason to take control or try to as she did what it would have wanted her to do most of the time anyway.

So much so that it gave her a bit of help after Nari 'promised' her the prize she wanted, and the crown placed them into a pact. (That will be its own ramble later.)

and if she hadn't rejected Nari herself, the crown would have tried to make her reject him in her vulnerable state.

Now that he resides in the cult, the crown more or less is her's 100%, no shared control. And now that it has a new host, it no longer needs its old one, for what use is a gross chewed up toy to a beast when there's a fresh one to bite?

It still wants control—it's still a beast in a cage—but it's more willing to let her do as she pleases. It waited with Nari for over a thousand years, and it's waiting who knows how long more for the new host to eventually give in. It's very patient.

Also, when a host becomes infected with the crown's influence, their behavior tends to become strange.

Bursts of anger, erratic behavior, thoughts being replaced with what the crown wants you to think, and hallucinations, both visual and auditorial, are the general baseline for the start of an infection of the host, with other symptoms varying from host to host

[set-phasers-to-whump]

stupid ideas

prompt: seeing double

whumpee: river cartwright

fandom: slough house, slow horses

hiii here's another installment of me beating up my boy <3 hope you enjoy it!

It’s one of those exceedingly rare days where he’s been given a task to do that takes him out of Slough House. 

Granted, he’s taking the bus one stop, picking up an envelope from an acquaintance of Lamb’s, and returning, but still. Gets him out. 

Honestly, he’d bet money that there’s nothing of any value in the envelope—quite possibly, there’s nothing in it at all, and Lamb just wants to send him on a particularly stupid errand. 

Not that there’s any other kind of errand where Lamb is concerned. 

So River’s on the bus, for all of two minutes, and then he’s on the pavement, and it’s just his luck that a car drives past and splashes him with muddy rainwater as he’s waiting to cross the road. 

Just great, he thinks bitterly, stomping across the crosswalk. He can already see Lamb’s acquaintance waiting for him beneath the faded awning of what appears to be an Italian restaurant. The man looks vaguely amused, which does nothing to improve River’s mood. 

They don’t so much as exchange a word. The man hands him the envelope, which does at least look as if it’s got something in it, though maybe it’s just a takeout menu for this place. That done, the other man nods, then turns around and enters the restaurant behind him. 

For a second, River thinks about following. It’s near enough to lunchtime, and this would keep him out of the office for longer. 

Except that the glimpse of the restaurant he’d gotten through the open door hadn’t seemed terribly inviting or terribly on par with basic standards of cleanliness. He’d rather not end up with food poisoning, even if it would mean a day or two off work. 

And so he heads for the bus stop, instead. 

It seems that he’s only just missed his bus. He could walk and make it back to Slough House before the next one arrives, but there’s no point hastening the inevitable. He finds a space for himself inside the shelter and stares at the traffic passing by. 

A few more people join him, seeking cover from the rain as they wait. The bus shelter crowds up quickly, and River finds himself wishing he hadn’t bothered with it. 

He catches a glimpse of his bus approaching and begins pushing his way out of the crowd. And then someone grabs the hood of his jacket and tugs. 

“Hey!” he yelps, struggling to break free. “What the fuck?”

Whoever’s got a hold of him is strong, and River finds himself being pulled backwards against his will. And then, just like that, he’s released, but he doesn’t manage to take so much as a step before he’s being shoved forwards from behind. 

His head collides with the glass wall of the bus shelter hard enough to make him taste blood, but not hard enough to shatter the glass. For a second, he’s stunned, can’t do anything amidst the sounds of people gasping and shouting, and then the world more or less resumes its normal dimensions. 

The bus stop has cleared out, and only a few people remain—it seems he’s missed his bus again. Those still there are alternately avoiding looking at him and outright staring. 

“Are you alright?” one of them, an old woman, asks. 

“I’m fine,” River replies stiffly. He starts walking away, giving up on the bus in favor of the pavement. He hopes he’s not bleeding. Doesn’t feel like explaining to anyone, “Yeah, someone threw me into the wall of a bus shelter. No, I didn’t see who. No, I don’t know why.”

A quick pat-down of his pockets reveals the continued presence of his phone and wallet, as well as the envelope. Better be bloody worth it, he thinks, though he knows it won’t be. 

As he wanders down the pavement, heedless of the rain, River becomes more and more aware of the fact that his head fucking hurts. 

Which is not exactly a surprise. What had he expected, after getting slammed into a glass wall?

It’s annoying, though. But he reminds himself that it’s only a matter of time before he gets back to Slough House, where at least a bottle of paracetamol awaits him. He’ll be fine. 

He shakes his head slightly, like he can physically brush away the ache. 

This accomplishes the exact opposite thing, and his head spins. His vision doubles for a few seconds, and he stops dead still in the middle of the pavement. 

He’s treated to a few seconds of verbal abuse from his fellow pedestrians before he makes his feet start moving again. 

Fuck, that had been a stupid idea. 

He makes it the rest of the way back to Slough House without any further issue, unless you count the gradual increase in the intensity of his headache with every passing second spent amidst the clamor and lights of a busy London afternoon. 

He’ll just take a few painkillers, and it’ll be fine. 

Back in Slough House, he makes a pit stop at his desk for said painkillers, dry-swallows the maximum dose (which is another stupid idea, and just adds a pain in his throat to the pain in his head). That done, he makes his way to Lamb’s office as slowly as humanly possible. 

Lamb doesn’t so much as glance up from his task when River arrives. He stands on the threshold and waits, rocking back and forth on his heels, until Lamb has finished scratching between his toes with a novelty, Christmas-themed pen. 

“Took your time, didn’t you?” Lamb observes, tossing the pen into a dark corner. Its light-up red nose briefly illuminates a takeout container that might qualify as toxic waste before blinking out. 

River doesn’t answer, momentarily transfixed by the pen’s flight across the room. By the time he realizes Lamb is still saying something to him, it’s too late. 

He spends what feels like an eternity being verbally berated for nothing in particular—a Lamb specialty—before he can take no more. 

He pulls the envelope, slightly damp, out of his pocket, tosses it onto Lamb’s desk, and leaves. 

He makes it about halfway down the stairs before he has to stop and brace himself against the wall. His vision has started to double up again and there’s a nauseous feeling slowly creeping up the back of his throat. 

So he’s fucking concussed. Great. 

He makes it down the rest of the stairs with all the speed and grace of a senior citizen, and collapsing into his desk chair feels like some kind of salvation. 

For far too long, he just sits there, eyes closed, breathing slowly, and generally trying very hard not to either throw up or pass out. 

This works moderately well, at least, it does until there’s a horrible crash right outside his door, followed by an exasperated, though rather polite, “Fuck!”

River flinches, then groans. 

“Sorry, River!” Catherine calls out, and even this is far too loud. The following noise of her tidying up the shards of glass is somehow worse, but he can hardly do anything about it. 

He puts his head down onto his desk and tries to block out everything. 

This doesn’t really work, and the next thing he knows Catherine’s voice is a good deal closer than it had been before. 

“Are you alright?” she asks, and he nearly jumps out of his chair. He hadn’t realized she’d moved closer, that she’d stopped cleaning. He feels like he can still hear the shards of glass bouncing off of each other. 

He slowly turns to look at her. There’s sort of one-and-a-half of her, and the faces overlap, but he’s pretty sure she looks worried. 

“What’s happened?” she asks, and she sounds worried, too. 

“Nothing,” River says thickly, because he doesn’t want to explain. 

“River.”

To his horror, he feels tears pricking at his eyes and an uncomfortable sensation in his throat. It’s fucking stupid. He went out on a stupid errand for his stupid boss, and some fucking idiot slammed him into a fucking bus shelter, and now his head hurts so fucking much, and he just wants to not be here, for the painkillers to start working, and he wants to be at home and he wants it all to stop. 

“It’s fine,” he snaps, and the words echo through his head and make everything worse. 

“You’re not well,” Catherine replies, apparently undeterred. “Are you ill?”

He shakes his head a bit too violently and immediately casts doubts upon this answer by throwing up, narrowly missing his own shoes. 

Things get a bit fuzzier, then. The pain in his head gets even worse, pounding and consuming his thoughts, and things triple and blur, and the next thing he knows Lamb, of all people, is shining a flashlight into his eyes, which fucking hurts, is he trying to kill him?

“He’s concussed,” he hears Lamb say. River gets the sense this isn’t directed at him, but the question that follows definitely is. “What the fuck happened?”

“Got pushed…in a bus shelter,” is what River manages to say. He doesn’t think this is his best explanation, but he lacks the words to make it better. 

Lamb mutters something else, which River fails to understand, and then someone is pulling him to his feet. For a second his vision whites out, and when it returns, he finds himself being manhandled out of Slough House and into a car he vaguely recognizes as Louisa’s. 

“Where we going?” he manages to ask, not sure whether he’s addressing the driver—surely Louisa herself—or the person beside him, who he thinks might be Catherine. 

It’s Louisa that responds. “A&E.” Her voice is clipped and if River felt slightly less awful, he’d wonder about that. 

As it is, he just hums in acknowledgement and lets his eyes drift closed, trying to distract himself from the unpleasant feeling of movement. 

This doesn’t work terribly well, and he vaguely hears himself make a rather pathetic and completely involuntary noise as they go over some kind of bump. 

“It’ll be alright,” comes Catherine’s voice from beside him. “You’ll be alright, River.”

He believes her—what else can he do? He lets that thought, that he’ll be alright, wash over him, and it distracts him, just for a moment, from the pain.

thanks for reading!! fun fact i am giving my boy river a concussion on the six month anniversary of me getting one myself :P love to see it lmao. hope you enjoyed, love you all etc etc amen <3

[the-common-cowgirl]

Greater of Two Evils -Part 3

Summary: When you’re unable to share your brother’s happiness, you end up in the hospital. All hope is lost when the greater of the two evils in your life comes to your “rescue.”

Rating: Explicit

Pairings: Aemond Targaryen/Reader

Warnings: DD;DNE, Modern AU, Non-Con/Dub-Con (heavier on non-con), Physical Violence to Reader (choking, manhandling), Mentions of injuries to reader, Feelings of hopelessness, Elitism, Forced Pregnancy, Forced Proximity, Breeding/Pregnancy Kink, Non-Consensual Arranged/Fabricated Relationship, Dom vibes, Rough/Painful sex, Unprotected sex

Word Count: 5K

A/N: Quick reminder that this is a dark fic! Reading dark fics in a modern setting can feel more real so please, read the warnings carefully before reading further!

Masterlist

A week passed with no so little as a text from Aemond. With your current condition, you weren’t sure if the silence on his end was a good thing or not. Sure, you looked up other options. A way out. A way to terminate the pregnancy… but then Aemond’s words loomed over you like a dark cloud. Coming back to you all at once, the second you even thought about escaping him.

“-your entire family and most of all, your brother is ruined. I have my finger on the trigger right now.”

What could you do? What should you do? Aemond hadn’t contacted you in over a week. Maybe he just wanted to scare you and leave? Forget about you. Oh Gods, you hoped he had forgotten about you.

Your brother nearly pranced into the kitchen, opening the fridge to grab a drink. From your  vantage point on the couch, he looked happy, giddy. You tried to hide further behind your laptop, pretending to be busy with the schoolwork you should be doing and not stressing over anything. 

Don’t give him a reason to be suspicious of you.

“Hey! Wanna hear some great news?” He interrupted your act at homework.

You sighed and shut your laptop on your lap, looking up to your brother with thinly veiled disdain. “Sure.”

If he noticed your discontent, he did not speak on it. “That trade deal, last week, remember? I was trying to get through parliament? It passed!” He smiled widely toward you, as if that was a reason you should be ecstatic too.

Your lips formed a crooked smile, trying to hide the fact that you did not care nor did you see the reason you should. “Huh, that’s great.” Then you remembered, a week expired memory of Aemond telling you that he blocked the trade deal flashed in your memory and your blood ran cold. 

Why did it pass? What did he want now? Was I wishfully thinking this was over?

Your brother’s smile faltered, “Shouldn’t you be excited? That’s a win for us.”

He snapped you out of your spiraling dread. “Us?” You looked up to your brother, slight anger rising in your heart though you were too afraid to show it.

He nodded, moving closer to you, towering over you on the couch. “Look at what I’m doing for this family. Be grateful for my sacrifices. Do you know how many nights I stayed up past midnight trying to speak to my connections in parliament to get the trade deal to pass? Do you know what this means for us? For me?”

He speaks of sacrifices as if he was the sacrificial lamb I am.

You narrowed your eyes up at him, feeling emboldened by the anger bubbling up inside you. Your brother had no clue what it was like to sacrifice…anything. So he lost sleep? So what. You lost your sense of self, your dignity, your freedom. And again, all he lost was sleep.

“Honestly, I don’t care what a trade deal means for you. I don’t care how it’ll boost your standing in the company.” Your brother looked shocked at your words, you continued to glare up at him. “Because you don’t give a shit about me. I lost all respect for you when I realized you had none for me.”

Your brother stuttered, looking shocked. “I’ve given you everything. I love you.”

You scoffed, shaking your head. “You have a fucked up way of showing it-”

Before you could realize what had happened, your brother grabbed your wrist and painfully jerked you up to your feet, although, you were not prepared to stand and lost your footing once he let you go, falling to the group, hitting your head on the glass coffee table and shattering it underneath you. Your laptop that was on your lap fell amidst the shuffle and your weight landed on the top of it. 

Once you realized what happened, you felt blood trickling down your head, wrist, forearm. Your brother paid no attention, leaning over you, so close to your face as he spat angrily, “You are nothing without me.” He grabbed the already bruising wrist and jerked your body closer, scraping along the glass. “No one in this family is anything without me. Never forget that.” His voice was low, possessive, demonic. He shoved your wrist away and walked from the scene he had caused. 

You were left in the living room, trying to make sense of what happened and what you should do. You looked at the wrist he had grabbed, now turning purple and swollen. You felt the blood falling from your head to the white, fur rug that was underneath the shattered coffee table’s frame. You went through the motions numbly, standing up, grabbing your phone, laptop, walking into your bedroom and grabbing your wallet, stuffing those three belongings in your school bag and walked out the door. 

You knew you needed to seek medical attention, feeling the faint sting of your wrist breaking the absolute numbness you felt, and alongside that stinging, you began to feel dizzy. You called an Uber, thankful the driver didn’t ask questions or speak as you stared ahead after directing him to Sunspear Foundation Hospital. You only answered the questions they needed to know, the nurses, remaining quiet when three nurses came in and asked you if you were in a domestic abuse situation, asking if you knew you were pregnant from the mandatory pregnancy test you had to take upon arrival. When the social worker came in, she asked if you were safe at home.

Were you? No. Did you tell them the truth? No.

A nurse knocked on the door, the sting in your wrist still painful as you were denied all pain killers due to your condition, instead, you moved to sit up, using the non-swollen wrist. “Come in,” you said meekly.

She stepped in, just barely, trepidation in her proximity. “Uh miss? I have a visitor here for you-”

You furrowed your brows at her, wondering who would even know you’re here-

Aemond appeared from behind the nurse and moved to thank her before shutting the door to your room and looking down at your bandaged self lying in a hospital gown. His remaining eye was hard to read, he was hard to read. He set you on edge and given what had just happened, you knew the monitor connected to your finger sensed your pulse quicken. 

He glanced up to the rising numbers and decided then, to sit down next to you. Eye raking over your bandages without even a hint to what he was thinking, feeling. Being near him set you on edge. And the question you didn’t need answering popped in your mind.

How did he know I was here.

In theory, you knew. You knew he was well connected. You knew he had eyes on you. You knew that he always knew what you were up to. But here? Even at a hospital you couldn’t escape his eye.

“Who did this to you?” His voice was even, cold, deep. It terrified you.

“Um-” You began, for some reason wanting to protect your brother. It was unfortunately second-nature for you at this point.

“Don’t fucking ‘um’ me. Was it that wastrel you consider a sibling?” His voice was no longer even, it had an edge to it. It reminded you of the movies, when the man who loved the woman saw her hurt and was ready to kill for her given the word. It would have been romantic….if it wasn’t Aemond. 

“Yeah,” you croaked, moving your uninjured hand to your bandaged wrist to play with the bindings. “He- He didn’t mean-”

“I don’t fucking care if he meant to or not, you’re not allowed there again.” 

You looked at him, truly looked at him for the first time in a week. He was still in his suit. It looked like he had just come out of a parliament session. His hair was pulled into a low ponytail behind his head, only a few strands had been pulled out. His tie looked like it had been previously tight, now loose. He looked like he was slightly disheveled, not a usual look for him.

Did he drive all the way from King’s Landing once he found out I was in the hospital? Did he care about me? Was he worried?

You shook those ideas from your head as quickly as they came. Aemond was not a man to care about anything.

He’s worse than your brother. He’s another shark. You’re just another small fish in his pond.

“Do you hear me?” His voice cut through your thoughts, you hadn’t realized he had been talking. Blame it on blood loss or sleep deprivation at this point. Blame your attention span and your wild thoughts on both please. Blame both on anything but a sound mind. “You’re staying at my flat in Dorne until the wedding.”

You furrowed your brows, “No I’m not. I’m going home.” Blame your boldness on both too. Your heart sank as you realized what you had said, now growing anxious at the reparations you would pay for speaking back.

His eye remained neutral. “I’m not letting you go back there. Not after what he did to you.”

Why do you even care?

“Besides, It’ll give me more time to see you-” He tried to reach his hand up to grasp your uninjured one but there was another knock at the door. You told whomever it was to come in and Aemond’s embrace left your hand thankful as the doctor stepped into the room. She explained you had a sprained wrist, along with other minor cuts that would heal hopefully without scars thankfully to her using medical glue instead of stitches.

Finally, she smiled at the two of you as if you were a happy couple, giddy with joy at the prospect of a child. Maybe Aemond was…. But she told you that she went ahead and scheduled your follow up with a midwife in three days from now. “I know it’s a bit early for you to see them, but given the events of today, I’d like you to get started on your appointments with the prenatal care providers to ensure that both you and baby,” she pointed to your flat stomach underneath the hospital gown, it made you want to hurl, “are alright.”

She stood and shook your uninjured hand, then Aemond’s as he thanked her happily. She informed you both that the discharge nurse would be around quickly and you could leave then get some “much needed rest.” Dread pooled in your stomach as you realized you wouldn’t be able to rest where you were going, into the jowls of the beast.

The discharge nurse was quick, Aemond was quicker to help you out of your hospital gown (thankfully not bare to him as you kept your underwear and bra on), and he diligently, like an obedient and sweet partner, led you through the hospital, out into the warm night to where his black sports car sat parked. Even like a gentleman, he opened the door for you to sit. His engine roared to life, you glanced into the backseat, remembering the position he had you in a week ago on that leather fabric. 

On top, pretending I was in charge, much like right now. Though, I’m never in charge right? It’s only the facade.

His flat was fifteen or so minutes from the hospital, maybe five from your brother's. It was big and spacious, much like your brother’s expensive flat. But where your brother had the flat furnished bright and modern, Aemond had his furnished dark, old academia style. It screamed “Old Money” and you nearly laughed at how drastically different Aemond and your brother were while also sharing a single central attribute; they were both terrible people.

“You are sleeping in here tonight,” Aemond walked through a doorway to a bedroom, assuming you would follow… and you did. You looked around the dark bedroom, a King sized bed in the middle topped with dark coverings. There was a bathroom and walk-in closet off of it. It was a master suite. It was Aemond’s room. He deposited your school bag beside the bed. “I see you didn’t bring anything but a broken laptop and your wallet. You’ll need clothes.”

You fidgeted with your clothes you had on now. They were comfortable, you could sleep in them but Aemond walked into the closet, turning on the light and stifled through his clothes. You knew he wasn’t going to give you space. He’d force you to sleep in the same bed with him in his own clothes. He owned you. He knew you were too scared to say one simple word: ‘no.’ 

He walked out of the closet with a large T-shirt. It had a band’s name on it. “Here,” he offered and you took it. 

That was it… a t-shirt.

“In the morning, we can order you more clothes for here but for now, you can sleep in this.”

“Clothes for here.” He’s serious about me staying.

A chill ran up your spine, uneasiness rose in your throat.

Just for tonight, you told yourself. He can’t hold me captive. 

You looked over at Aemond who disappeared into the bathroom. From your vantage point, you could see him stripping his fine clothes in the wall length mirror and folding his clothes and setting them atop the hamper. You thanked the Gods he kept his dark boxers on.

Or can he? Fuck. What will he do if I don’t stay?

The word stay echoed in your mind, remembering the time in your childhood where you were teaching your Northern Riverlands Waterdog to stay. He was one, you were nine. He’s dead now… he stayed, obediently; as you commanded… in the Riverlands until his death. Was that your fate with Aemond? Pliant? Agreeable? Quiet? Like an obedient hound?

As Aemond emerged back into the bedroom, towering over you, you gulped your fear down and the truth of it all came bubbling up.

If I don’t change, if I dont stick up for myself… that answer is yes. 

“Are you going to change?” Aemond asked, breaking you from your haze. You looked up to him, briefly wondering if he heard your thoughts until you remembered the t-shirt you were grasping for dear life in your uninjured hand. 

“Uh…yeah.” You stepped past him, making your way to the bathroom. You shut the door behind you, breathing a sigh of relief that Aemond allowed you to have privacy to change. You pulled your shirt off as quickly as you could with a sprained wrist, wincing slightly as the soft fabric of your shirt drug along some of the wounds that were bandaged. Your shorts came off easier. You kept your underwear and bra on and managed to get into his shirt. The shirt was large, you swam in it, however, it barely reached past your bottom and anxiety crept up your neck as you realized  how much skin you were going to bare to his prying eye. 

Slowly unlocking the door and stepping out of the bathroom, Aemond was already sitting in the bed, his legs hidden underneath the dark covers as his back rested against the headboard. He looked over to you, eye raking up and down your body as you stared ahead to the place next to him where he intended you to sleep. Your words to yourself came flooding back into your mind.

If I don’t change, nothing will.

“I don’t feel comfortable sleeping in your bed tonight.” You mustered up all the courage you could possess, forcing yourself to make eye contact with him. He only scoffed and threw the coverings over his legs off. Standing up and striding toward you like a predator and you, prey. You felt the urge to cower given the happenings of today but you fought the urge. Before you knew what was happening though, Aemond grabbed around your waist, hoisting you over his shoulder. You kicked against his stomach to no avail, tried hitting his back until you remembered your wrist was sprained and sharp jolts of pain shot up your arm. You croaked in pain, trying to grab your wrist instinctively but before you could grasp it, Aemond threw you into the soft plushness of the bed: where he intended you to sleep. 

He moved to hover over you but you kicked up at him angrily. He dodged your foot, grabbing it mid-kick and gripped your ankle tightly, mirroring your brother several hours ago, yet not as harsh. He glared down at you, and you up at him. Emboldened by your fear, fueled by courage you were forcing. You wanted to spit in his face; you had half a mind to do it. Aemond glanced down, an idea flashing across his features and before you could act to defend yourself he reached down and ripped your lacy bikini bottom underwear from your core, exposing you now that the shirt was bunched up around your waist. He let go of your leg and stepped two paces backward, eye still drawn on you as he held your torn underwear in one hand. “Consider that your punishment for thinking, even for a second, I’d let you out of my sight.” Making you sleep without underwear as a punishment; what did that mean for you?

You scoffed and pulled the dark comforter over your lower half to cover yourself and Aemond started walking around the bed toward his side. “Seems like an easy thing to do considering you’re lacking half,” you mumble as you turn on your side, back to Aemond and pull the covers all the way to your neck.

“What did you say?”

Your blood runs cold, you hadn’t realized he had heard your snark but he did…and his tone was dangerous.

You feel the bed dip a split second before you feel his hand roughly grab your shoulder to pull you onto your back and face him. All your courage and anger wiped from you as you stare up, wide-eyed at his expression; one akin to hatred. 

“What. Did. You. Just. Say.” He grits out between clenched teeth. You think momentarily that he might slap or punch you as a hand behind his head slowly raises but that notion in your head dissipates as the hand closes around your neck; constricting oxygen and blood flow. You reach up to remove his hand with your injured and uninjured hands, clawing at him but he does not move. Your head starts becoming light. 

“I was going to be a gentleman tonight, give you the rest you so deserve… but it seems you’re in need of a lesson.”

You can barely register the words as your vision starts to become blurry. Just as you’re certain you’re about to pass out, Aemond releases your throat. You cough, sputtering up and drooling as your eyes glaze over in tears. You run a hand along your throat and the skin is painful to the touch. You’re unaware of Aemond as you try to recover your body from the blood and oxygen loss to your brain. You feel dizzy still, the feeling is not ebbing. Absent-mindedly, you try to sit up in search of a deeper breath and Aemond takes advantage of your upright position to rip his shirt off you, unclasping your bra and throwing it behind him, into the void of the room. 

You feel his hands on your breasts and realize he’s still kneeling on the bed in front of you, slotted between your legs covered by the comforter still. You move to push his hands away from you but he grabs your wrists in one hand and pushes you against the bed. 

“Be a good girl and take your punishment willingly. I might even give you some rest tonight if you’re good.” His fiery breath is on the shell of your ear and your eyes are screwed shut in pain as his grip on your sprained wrist sends jolts of torture through your body. You squeal hoarsely at it and he takes notice, releasing your wrists. “Keep your wrists above your head and that won’t happen again.” You nod without hesitation, thankful for the pain to begin to fade. 

Aemond’s hand engulfs your right breast. You feel him kneading it in his large palm, then flicking his tongue against your nipple until it stiffens to a peak. His tongue is nice, soft and warm. Maybe if you thought about that, softness, you’d enjoy it - what’s to come. He moves to the other breast, repeating the action until both of your breasts appear to his liking. He sits back, marveling at your bare chest. “Open your eyes.”

You can’t do it, can’t obey. Your eyes remain screwed shut.

You hear him scoff, most likely rolling his eye as you feel him move just beneath the covers to the apex of your thighs and slapping you harshly on your bare center. You whimper and give in, opening your eyes. He’s clad only in his boxers, just as he was before he choked you but for some reason, seeing Aemond towering over you in only his boxers makes fear gnaw on your nerves. You look up from the tent in his boxers to his face. His remaining pupil is black now; he looks like a demon, here to steal your soul.

“I am going to fuck you,” he says simply, slipping out of his boxers and discharding them beside the bed. “You’re going to thank me for servicing you so well, understood?” You look down to the ruddy tip, leaking of precum, straining hard against his own skin; like a caged beast.

“Understood?” His tone was one of a teacher or a parent after scolding a child. You looked up to him and nodded; unsure if you didn’t want it at all or wanted him to shove that glorious cock into you. 

No, no you definitely don’t want that. 

“You’ll also thank me for giving you my lineage.” He moved the comforter from your lower half, exposing your entire body to him. “Not every woman gets to carry a Targaryen in their womb. You should be honored.” He slotted himself between your legs, bending them at the knee and spitting down to your core. This would have been a hot, passionate coupling if he hadn’t been Aemond and if he hadn’t just said what he did. 

You pushed the back of your head deeper into the pillows, wanting to escape this hellscape as you slowly came to your senses. Everything came back to that fucking thing.

He ran the rigid edges of his cock along your pussy, up to your clit. It sent sparks along your belly but died before they could ignite anywhere else. Your fire was burnt out, any semblance of arousal died the second he reminded you that he put his semen inside of you and that it unfortunately took root. 

His aching cock caught along your entrance and he pushed against your rejecting walls. You knew he was well endowed, the biggest you’d ever taken, but gods, you hadn’t realized just how large his cock was until you didn’t want it. Maybe the fact your walls tried to push him out made him seem larger than he was but you nearly screamed when the head of him pressed harshly against the wall of your cervix. 

“Fuck,” he muttered, pulling out slightly, only to push into your refusing cunt again. You whimpered against his second push. His body fell to encompass your own, burying his head into the skin of your neck, breathing his flames against your artery. 

“You should really give in to me. It’ll make it a lot easier for you-”

“Why,” you bit out against his ear without much breath, “you’re going to fuck me anyways. Why do you care?”

Aemond raised, just enough for you to see his smirk and eye over your pained expression. “You’re absolutely right.”

His hips snapped harshly against you, stealing the breath from your lungs. You felt cramping begin in your abdomen from how harshly he had begun to take you. “Gentle-” you pleaded as you screwed your eyes shut and pushed his chest with your uninjured hand. “Please.”

You heard him huff above you, “Why? Like you said, I’m going to fuck you anyway. Why should I be gentle for you when this,” He accentuated that word with a thrust that made your whole body freeze in pain. Your muscles when taut and he half-moaned. “This is what I want. How I need it. How I like it.”

You pushed harder against the smooth, solid planes of his chest, “I- I’m carrying your child-” It was the first time you said it out loud, first time you admitted to yourself the truth you couldn’t bear. Now, more than ever, felt like a great time to make it an excuse. “Please- be gentle with me.” 

Your voice was so small, cracked with emotion as tears began to form in your scrunched waterline… but it got the message across.

Aemond stopped completely, still nestled inside of you. He felt your walls ease as he ran a hand up the curves of your body, stopping with his hand cradled along your ribcage. Your eyes softened until you felt the urge to look up at him through your tears. His expression was soft, contemplating over your nude figure.

He leaned down, taking your breast in his mouth, groping at the base near your sternum gently. You felt another hand more to your clit, gentle pressure moving along the pearl. 

His sudden change surprised you but nothing caught you off guard more when his head moved up from your breast to your face and kissed your parted lips hungrily. Tongue slipping past your lips. It was awkward, you didn’t kiss him back, still shocked at his sudden change. 

He pulled from your mouth, rutting gently now into your walls that had begun accepting him with his ministrations. “I’m sorry,” he kissed your neck, “you’re my delicate river. I do need to be careful with you.”

You furrowed your brows, looking sideways at him. Scared to speak but also so confused, “I’m not yours, Aemond.”

He smiled and kissed you again, hand moving down to your stomach. “You’re carrying a part of me inside of you. I’m with you, always. How are you not mine?”

You turned your head away, trying to escape the gnawing pleasure that was now betraying your body. Aemond moved his head to your hair; silver locks intertwining with the falsely dark locks of your own dyed head. “You’re so perfect. You always have been, haven't you?”

He angled his hips to brush against your spot, you felt your body betraying you, allowing him into your most intimate part now with grace and fever. Your walls relaxed completely, growing wetter and wetter. You felt your heartbeat quicken, perspiration began to pool on your forehead. 

“C’mon sweet girl,” he tweaked with your nipple, “give in to me.”

“You’re a monster,” you breathed quickly between the pants you were trying to conceal.

“Y’know you love it. Even if I am.”

“You are.”

He hummed to himself, rising up and hitching one of your legs over his shoulder, reaching deeper than before. Still playing with your clit as his thrusts became quicker but still gentle. “Then what does that make you then, huh?” He smirked from above you, “Because gods- the way your cunt is starting to clench around me, I know you’re liking my cock, loving it. You love this extension of me, you wanton whore.” His words were brash, harsh…but he spoke in reverence. “Gods-” he moaned, “and I’ll teach you to not just love this extension of me, but all of me.”

You felt your peak nearing but not being able to reach the summit as his bed-room talk was absolutely insane. “I’ll never love you.” 

Your breasts bounced along with his thrusts, he smiled down at them in reverie before his lone eye met yours. “Keep telling yourself that, my beautiful river. See who wins.”

He pinched your clit harshly and thrusted up into you with a gentle fever that had you tumbling over the edge. You saw stars as your back arched off of the bed. Body and mind betraying you as you gave in to him. Your cunt clamping down on his member and your blissed out expression, along with a half-scream you weren’t aware you made had him toppling over the edge, hips faltering in their pistoning as he shot his load against your already seeded womb.

Panting, he laid gently atop you, caging you in with his sweaty body as he came down from his high. His hand came up to caress your hair. He began planting sweet, chaste kisses on the side of your face. No, no they would have been sweet if they weren’t from Aemond but your mind dissociated as his softening cock still laid within you, his lips on your face, his hand in your hair…his child in your womb. 

You kept thinking about what he called you, during the act.

“My beautiful river.”

At least he saw you for what you were. Your roots, your homeland, your personality.

A river flows, leaves where and who it once was, changes course, cuts through the land unapologetically. 

You took a deep breath, staring into the abyss of Aemond’s dark room.

Be a river.

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[hauntedhokage]

salvation

Priest!Nanami Kento/F!Reader

word count: 2k

summary: you’ve been avoiding the church, the weight of your unabsolved sins sits heavy on your shoulders, and you know that he knows. he could always see right through you.

warnings: MDNI, priest kink, blasphemy up the ass, references to sexual content (sex in a church and unprotected sex), unintended use of a rosary & prayer, manipulation, Nanami refers to reader as “lamb” and “little one”, this is not their first meeting, established…something, reader is some kind of devout to Nanami and not necessarily to the religion itself at this point,

note: this is heavily inspired by my experience in church (read: very catholic), but I was also trying to lean more into my own vision of  “cult-religion” while not explicitly naming any particular religion that reader and Nanami are failing at practicing. Technically this is act iii but idk if I’ll write the acts i & ii that are in mind. 

AO3 | Nanami Masterlist | All Masterlists | Ko-fi |

You’d been avoiding the church. 

Always conveniently scheduled to work during the different scheduled mass times, and the one time you hadn’t been working you’d faked sick. Faking sick again wasn’t an option, as you were still working through the various meals that were brought your way to help you feel better and didn’t need any additional tupperware to wash and return to your neighbors. Your boss hadn’t scheduled you during Mass in a while, stating that he knew how much going meant to you and now that business was a bit slower he could afford to give you that time back. Everyone wanted you back in that church, sharing the house of worship and the teachings being preached because they all felt you needed it. 

What it provided, you didn’t know. It used to feel natural to be there, enlightening even. Confessional once lifted the weight of your transgressions and had you feeling lighter with the knowledge that your path had been redirected. The reassurance that the gates of heaven had not yet been shut to you, the feeling of light that came when you were told that you were still part of His flock, safe from the fiery darkness of hell - nothing topped that feeling. 

But it wasn’t that you were avoiding the church. 

You were hiding from Father Kento. 

He knew you better than anybody else did at this point, and you hadn’t known him long. It had been maybe six months since he’d come to replace the older priest who had passed away, and how quickly he’d drawn you in - like a moth to his flame and you were trying to avoid getting burnt. He was a priest, after all, even if everything you knew about him went against your understanding of what priests actually did. But maybe that was what you liked about him? Father Kento to you was a completely different man than he was to anybody else, you knew him better because you’d been blessed with the opportunity to see more of him. He’d taken “priestly liberties” to see to your salvation, took special care of you as his most precious lamb, and this was how you repaid him and his kindness? Avoiding he who had given so much to you?

“You look troubled, little lamb.”

And there he was. Always there when you seemed to be thinking about him the most, only in the last few weeks you’d turned away when you saw him at the market or on your way to or from work. Today, though, there is no avoiding him for he’s standing right in front of you. A gentle hand on your elbow (to steady you, would be his cover for a touch so intimate), eyes looking right through you it seemed. 

“Good evening, Father,” you greet, smile soft yet still uncertain as you meet that piercing gaze. “How are you?”

“I’ve been worried about you, but I’m well.” There it was, so quickly to the point yet still managing to be indirect given the public setting that was the middle of the sidewalk. “How have you been?”

“I’ve been alright. Busy, then-”

“Then you weren’t well, yes?”

“That’s where I need to confess.” Your admission earns a quirked brow, the ghost of a smile gracing his features under the streetlight as he gives your arm a squeeze. 

“Would you like to come with me to the church? Somewhere private where we can talk and hopefully provide some solace to that troubled mind.” 

Another act of familiarity, this time his thumb gently running up from the bridge of your nose and between your eyes to smooth out your furrowed brow. A gentle pat to the top of your head follows when you nod, and that has him smiling as he gives a nod of his own before turning to lead you back towards the church. During the walk you tell him about your day, how work was and sharing a fun fact you’d learned that day. In turn he tells you what he can about his, out of interest to respect the private lives of others in the parish. It’s natural, nobody would assume any less than holy intentions to see you being guided down the sidewalk by Father Kento. 

But as soon as you’re inside the walls of the church, the loud click ringing through your ears signaling that you were alone with him and would see no intrusion, you feel almost like a lamb being presented for sacrifice. 

He follows you to where you usually sat shen it was just the two of you in the large building, on the steps in front of the pews, beneath the stained glass but out of its reach when the light shone through at most hours of the day. He does what he always did, dimming the lights before lighting the candles that would provide more intimate lighting for the conversations yet to come.

Father Kento always made you feel special. 

“Where’ve you been, little one? I miss seeing you front and center at mass.”

That was where you were nervous. To tell him what was on your mind, as well as the things that you’d been doing in lieu of attending church and confession, wasn’t going to be easy. He’d be disappointed, and you think for a moment that maybe that’s what you were hiding from. Not Father Kento himself, but the disappointed look in his eyes when you confessed to him that you failed to resist temptation - failed to come to him for protection from that temptation. 

But you tell him anyway, sparing no detail as you know the only way to be absolved of your sins was to confess them. He does an excellent job of keeping his face neutral, hands idly turning his rosary as he listens, and that helps you to ensure that you maintain that honesty. You knew it would hurt him to hear that you’d let another man touch you, that you were hiding from his disappointment, that you were afraid of being a distraction from his work. By the time you’re done your own hands are in his, wrapped in his rosary which eased their shakiness and brought a great deal of comfort.

“I’m sorry that you felt that you couldn’t find sanctuary here,” he murmurs, carefully pressing his forehead to yours. “You should know that I would never judge, and am always here to help you cleanse your sins.”

“I know, I know,” you whisper, looking down at your joined hands. The crystal beads don’t feel as heavy on your skin as they had when he’d started to bring them around your skin, which helps considerably but doesn’t completely relieve you. “I’m sorry, Father, sorry that my faith in you became so weak.”

“God forgave you as soon as you entered his House.”

“But have you forgiven me, Father?” The question brings him pause, and you know why it would. In his eyes, God’s forgiveness should be most important to you, and if God can forgive why would you need to hear anything else? He liked to tease that you were constantly testing him, but this wasn’t a test. This was how you truly felt, and you feared his reaction but you still finish your thought to improve his understanding of your situation. “God’s love means nothing if I don’t have yours.”

“My love for you has not waned in your absence. You are forgiven for your transgressions, my lamb, and I would like to reassure you in that forgiveness.”

You’re kissing him before you can properly process the implication of his words, knowing that what you needed was the specific brand of salvation that only came from Father Kento’s touch. His hands pull from yours, leaving the rosary to hang from your hands as his come to hold your cheeks. Father Kento’s kiss was as he was; calculated and warm, knowing exactly what he needed to do or how he needed to move to maximize your experience in his arms. 

“Please do not drop my rosary, sweet lamb,” he mumbles, lips moving to your neck while his hands work to position you on his lap. “It’s key to your salvation this evening.”

Your attempt at assurance that you’d never drop his rosary - or anything of his, really - is cut off by a whine when sharp teeth dig into your shoulder. A signal to God, he’d said once, to let him know that you’d bled for your faith and did so willingly. You have to separate your hands so he can pull your shirt over your head, and he pulls the cross that now dangles against your forearm into his mouth as he looks up at you through his lashes. Perhaps it's a reminder to be careful, a reminder of where your faith should lie, but you take it as an invitation and press your mouth to his in an open kiss around the quickly warming metal.

“I have to properly present you to God, little lamb. Ensure that he can properly see you embrace your salvation.” And you know exactly what he means as you finally pull yourself from him, letting the spit slick rosary fall against your arm once more before you stand on shaky legs. You needed to bare yourself before God and the Father, present yourself at the altar to accept your salvation. Akin to taking the sacrament, but this brand of salvation was reserved specifically for you - for Father Kento’s favorite little lamb. 

There's a symbolism here that you can’t miss as he lifts you onto the altar - the focal point of the church beneath the intricate stained glass windows depicting images of peace and holiness.

The lamb presented for sacrifice as she’s laid atop the altar, but there’s no knife in his hand. Even if there was, you would only feel reverence for the man standing before you - the man you trusted with your life. You were his little lamb, his favorite within the flock to be used as an example but never to be harmed. If you were ever sacrificed; you’d be reincarnated to once again be his favorite, he’d said it himself that in every instance of your shared existence that he knew he would always find you. The shepherd tends to the flock, always, and a lost lamb would find her way home to the shepherd who loved her so dearly.  

“Are you ready to embrace salvation?”

“Please, Father.” Your hand searches for him, something that you can hold onto when you feel his tip slide through your folds. His hand catches yours, the tight grip pressing the rosary beads into the tender flesh of your palm to the point where you know you’ll see indentations from the intricate bead and metalwork decorating your skin. Another reminder of your repentance to join the soft bruises on your hips, markings on your shoulder, and the remnants of Father Kento’s holy essence that would be left inside you once he’d finished. 

You were far from pure, but so was he. Figuring out where he lost any hope of the salvation he preached would take months of carefully placed questions, but you knew when you’d lost your own. He was unassuming, a kind priest who followed the path lit by God’s light, but at the same time all consuming as he ravaged you from the inside out. Your road to hell had not been paved with good intentions, as he’d intended on dragging you down with him on his own road to damnation. 

But Hell didn’t seem so bad to you if it would be his, too.  

Despite it all, you’d follow him anywhere, if he asked you to go. It wasn’t any god that you prayed to when referring to a Father in your prayers, for Kento was the only Father you prayed to. Your heavenly father, and you know that you will not stray far from his side again. 

You knew better than to hurt yourself like that again. 

[blindmagdalena]

Customer Service

1.2k, f!reader x homelander. a cathartic and indulgent little gift fic for @irenadel! You work in customer service, and unfortunately, one customer has decided you're the perfect outlet for his consumer rage. What this customer doesn't realize is that that none other than Homelander himself is waiting right outside for you, and he doesn't like what he's hearing.

Another day, another one of these assholes. “Sir, if you’ll listen, I–” You try to reason, but to no avail. You’re interrupted again. “No, no, no! I’ve had enough, your policy is ridiculous!” The man snaps, waving his rolled up form in your face like a newspaper at a misbehaving dog. It’s not even your policy. You just work here, and yet you’re the one forced to take all the abuse. This man has been yelling at you for the better half of ten minutes, but everyone around you is so desensitized, not even the glassiness in your eyes seems to matter. It’s just customer service. It’s normal. “You’re the one who needs to listen! I’ve told you what I want, and your job is to do it, alright? I’m the customer, so unless you’re too fucking stupid to–”

“Whoa, whoahhhhohoh there, champ,” a familiar voice cuts in, followed by a flash of crimson as a gloved hand falls on the man’s shoulder, cutting him short. The man whirls, prepared to maintain his fury, but the words evaporate from his tongue the instant he sees who has intervened. “H-Homelander?” The man stutters, bewildered. Uh oh, you think, but it takes everything in you to not smile. He did say he was going to pick you up today. Your eyes flicker to the clock, and you realize your shift ended five minutes ago. The store is closed, leaving just the three of you and a handful of your coworkers, who evidently would prefer to hide in the back than help you deal with an angry customer. “The one and only,” Homelander confirms, smiling jovially, though you alone recognize the undercurrent to his expression. You see the snarl in his toothy grin. Meanwhile, the man smiles with a dumbstruck kind of awe, a lamb wholly fooled by Homelander’s sheepskin. “What in the world is all this yelling about?”

“Oh, I– uhm,” the man fumbles, gesturing vaguely with his tightly rolled form. The redness from his anger is beginning to drain from his face, and with it he’s beginning to look smaller and smaller, as if he’s just drunk a particularly potent shrinking potion. Homelander often has that effect on people. He makes them seem so… insignificant. You feel your own eyes beginning to dry already. “Just, uh, these policies, you know? They’re so against the consumer, right? And it’s just–it’s ridiculous, you know? Like I pay her fuckin’ salary and she can’t even–” The man begins to point that sinister roll of paper towards you, but Homelander catches him swiftly by the wrist, gripping hard enough that the man drops it with a startled little gasp. “Don’t do that,” Homelander says, voice sharp as the crack of a whip, maintaining that chipper smile. “Y’see, real men don’t yell at pretty little ladies, much less go around waving sticks at them,” he says, the words sounding venomous even in the bright commercial timbre of his voice. “It’s all about having self control. Have you ever been at the mercy of someone stronger than you? Someone who, I don’t know… lost that control?” He asks, tone growing colder with every word. You can hear the threat in his question loud and clear, but you don’t intervene. You find yourself watching with a kind of distant fascination, like you’re watching these events unfold from somewhere outside yourself. No one has ever stepped up for you like this. “I–I–I didn’t–I wasn’t– y-you’re right, I–I lost my cool,” the man sputters, beginning to lean away, attempting to twist slowly out of Homelander’s iron grip. “Listen, I’m just gonna–” “Apologize,” Homelander interjects. His smile never budges, but you think the man is starting to understand just how unfriendly the gesture really is. There’s sweat prickling all along his forehead, rolling down his temple, passing his wide, frightened eyes. “Go on. Tell her you’re sorry.”

Looking back at you, you’re amazed that anyone this pitiful ever had the power to make you cry. “I’m sorry,” he blubbers, looking at you now like you’re his only salvation, his wrist still upheld firmly in Homelander’s gloved hand. “I’m sorry for yelling, and calling you stu–” the man attempts to finish, but the unmistakable crack of his wrist snapping in Homelander’s grasp robs him of anything other than a cry of pain. Immediately, Homelander releases him, and starts to laugh, his first genuine smile emerging as the man screams. “Ohh, golly! Jeeze, that was just so clumsy of me. Oof, that’s a nasty pinch, huh? I’d go get that checked out if I were you,” he says, patting the man so firmly on the chest that he stumbles backwards, clutching his wrist with wide, watery eyes. He looks pathetic, red and weepy, shocked by the turn of events. “You broke my wrist! You broke my fucking wrist! Why would you do that!?” The man asks, voice climbing quickly into hysteria as he stumbles away from Homelander, towards the door. “Well,” Homelander sighs, lifting his hands in a helpless kind of gesture. “I dunno, I guess I just… ‘lost my cool,’ ” he says, making quotation marks around the words with his fingers, watching the man fumble his way out the door. Meanwhile, you stand behind Homelander in a mix of awe and a devious kind of delight mingling in your expression. There was a time you might have felt guilt, or horror. Not anymore. “That was… really bad,” you whisper, hands over your mouth, concealing your smile. Homelander turns around to face you, his arms clasped behind his back. His eyes soften when they land on you, and his smile looks a great deal more boyish than it does that of a wolf. “Mmm, but it felt good, didn’t it?” He asks, leaning in close. He bumps his nose against yours in a quick little nuzzle. “No one talks to my girl like that,” he tells you, bringing his hands up to cup your face. His words sound like a promise. The juxtaposition between this man, who cradles you in tender hands, as though you’re made of glass, and the one who just snapped someone’s wrist on a whim, is a dizzying one, but you’ve grown to really love it. You’ve never been so certain of someone’s love for you.

You get butterflies when he kisses you. Slinging your arms around his neck, you hang off of him just to enjoy the way he makes you feel weightless when he straightens up, bringing you nearly off your feet. “C’mon,” he purrs against your lips, lifting you up properly into his arms. “That moron made us late for our date.” “Okay,” you say softly, burying your face into the crook of his neck. You inhale deep the minty evergreen scent of him, brushing your fingers along the closely shorn hair of his undercut, savoring the feel of it against your fingers. Everything about him brings you a peace that you didn’t know another person could, filling your senses with warmth, with the thrill of his devotion. You rest your cheek on his shoulder as he carries you out of the building, holding on tight for what you know is to come. Homelander launches straight up into the sky with you, above and beyond all of the problems that felt so big a few moments ago, but now feel so very, very small.