#tower loudspeakers

[heritagecollectibles]

Pair of Snell Acoustics Type E II Vintage Tower Loudspeakers

Pair of Snell Acoustics Type E II Vintage Tower Loudspeakers

[some-bunniii]

Lucifer breaks your deal with Alastor

・❥ Your soul is owned by Alastor, and Lucifer is not pleased about it.

x: OVER 20k words!? strap in ya’ll, it’s a roller coaster.

xx: reader is g/n. no use of y/n. if you want to read it in chapter-form, you can read it over on my ao3 here.

warnings: adult themes, abuse, angst

‘Alright, deep breaths. You’ve got this. You’ve practiced this so much it’s a cakewalk, so just take it easy. You’ll rock it, like always.’

“Oi! Welcome to the show, ya dirty sinners! Didn’t think ya’d see me all the way up here, did��ja?!”

Screams and cheers echoed from the seats below, as the voice of the King of Greed boomed from the loudspeakers. 

"Well, listen up, ya pitiful souls! I've got a craving for some more cash, so I've decided to bring the whole shebang right here to the heart of sin, Pentagram City!"

The cheering erupted once more, the spotlights danced across the sandy pit underneath the large circus tent. On the perimeter were rows and rows of stands, packed with demons nestled against each other.

It was Mammon’s first circus show in the Pride Ring, a very rare sight to see him leave his cozy little ring in general. But, when a good portion of your fans are sinners who can’t leave without being incinerated, then you have to receive them on their home turf.

In the large pit, two lions jumped obediently through hoops, their handlers shouting commands and cracking their whips to further spur the cat’s maneuvers.

Bright green flame danced around the lion’s faces, resembling that of a large mane. Their eyes were soulless, black pits that glimmered in the bright lights as they continued maneuvers through the tight obstacles.

On the edges of the pit, support poles towered above the crowd. Thin wires snaked across them, anchored to large platforms that hung in the air from the pole’s side.

“As ya can see, we’ve got a big show tah’night! Lots of great fuckin’ acts for ya mongrels to eat up. But, before we get to the juicy bits, direct your eyes up to the ceiling to get a look at our first performance!” 

Hundreds of gazes lifted to sky, the spotlights below beaming upward towards a platform at one end of the tent.

Bright, white lights hit your vision, and you squinted your eyes to prevent them from burning to a crisp from the focused beams.

You stood, your bare feet planted firmly against the platform’s white surface. Before you, a tightrope connected your place to another platform in the distance, beckoning you.

A small hoop hung from the ceiling, encircling a small portion of the wire. The trick was that it was too small for you to stand up straight while walking through it, so you’d need to limbo underneath it.

"As you can see, we've got some sorry sap up there that is about to practically walk on thin air! See that hoop over there? They're fixin' to stroll right through it."

Small ooh’s and ahh’s emanated from the crowd, their eyes darting from you to the hoop.

"But hold your horses, folks! That ain't your run-of-the-mill hoop, no sir! That, my friends, is a hoop on fuckin’ fire!!”

Suddenly, the hoop ignited in a burst of green flames, illuminating the area before you. Gulping, you took another deep breath, steadying yourself.

Okay, well, you knew that was gonna happen. You’ve just never actually practiced with the hoop on fire, but it shouldn’t be too hard.. right?

You nodded to yourself, assuring your racing thoughts that everything was gonna be alright.

The skin-tight suit you were wearing sparkled in the spotlight, dazzling the spectators with a red gleam as you hovered right over the edge of the platform, waving to the crowd. 

You had been performing ever since you could remember, and this was just another part of the job. You weren’t a part of Mammon’s original crew though, only being given the opportunity when they arrived at Pentagram City.

You were a Sinner, which meant being confined to the Pride Ring just like the rest. Fortunately, one of Mammon’s acrobats was too sickly to perform, so when you saw the large poster detailing auditions, you jumped at the opportunity to make some extra bucks.

You had arrived at the settled convoy of vehicles and trailers at the outskirts of the city, you were ecstatic. You hadn’t performed in an actual circus in forever, and the make-shift village of performers and equipment was a fresh sight.

Mammon himself was a… colorful character. He was a hard party rocker with a big ego, and most likely had a swear jar at home overflowing with pennies, with how that guy talked.

You hadn’t really met him when you auditioned, but you could definitely hear him. He was loud, practically demanding everyone’s attention even when he wasn’t addressing them. 

You could hear him yelling about an absent performer, annoyance evident in his voice as he berated an assistant.

"What do ya mean he couldn't make it to practice 'cause he lost his voice? He's a bloody mime, mate! What the hell are we payin’ these blokes for!?"

When you had performed for the recruiters—which you were surprised to find wasn’t Mammon, since the guy seemed to stick his nose in everything—you displayed to them your . A few somersaults, a bit of ariel silk action, and the classic, juggling. 

“How good is your balance?” One of them had questioned, their pen tapping softly against the wooden desk, as they considered your skills.

“Good enough, I suppose.” You replied truthfully.

Long story short, you got the gig. Although, when you heard they wanted you to tightrope under a hoop, that was a little surprising. 

Good thing you weren’t afraid of heights, or this would have been a nightmare.

Backing away from the edge, your gaze rested on the hoop aflame in front of you. After Mammon would finish speaking, you’d begin your act.

"But that ain't the only thing heating up tonight, folks."

Wait, what did he mean by that?

“‘Cause the tightrope… is also on fire!!!” 

What?!

The crowd went berserk hearing that. They whooped and hollered, as their twisted little fantasies came true before their eyes.

“Oh, god damnit, Mammon!” You muttered.

When you told them you had a pretty good pain tolerance, that did not mean resistance to fire!

You sighed, it was a little too late to back out now. Plus, you needed the money. Bouncing on your toes, you attempted to hype yourself up.

Exhaling a large breath, your foot lifted from the stand, and slowly reached out towards the tightrope. 

‘Fuck, this is going to hurt.’ you groaned internally, your toe just inches from the wire. You could feel the heat of the fire as it hungrily licked at your feet. 

Right as you were about to place yourself onto the wire, you felt something tugging at the back of your collar. 

It was deathly cold, and you tried to pull away from its touch, but whatever was holding you had a strong grip. A thick green fog-like substance pooled at your feet, and you looked down in confusion as it began to circle around your figure.

You felt the force on your collar harshly pull you backwards, and your feet lifted from the ground. The smoke became so thick in front of you, it was only the bright lights from the spotlights below that gave you any visual. Suddenly, large eyes began to dot your vision, staring directly at you, into your hollow being.

“What the fu-”

Darkness suddenly covered your vision, and you felt like you were floating in mid-air. Though, you couldn’t tell where exactly in the air you were, other than the fact the surface below you had completely vanished.

You tried to peel your eyes open, but whatever had thrusted you into this chilling realm would not let you get a glimpse of your surroundings. It wasn’t until you felt your feet hit firm ground, and a much less intense light hit your eyelids. You opened them slowly, your mouth still partially open.

“-ckkkk?” You finished, your eyes darting from one side of the mysterious room to the other. It looked strange.. to say the least. It was old, a little run down. It screamed tacky. 

You observed the room again, trying to find anything familiar that could gauge your location.

Were you in a hotel lobby? But, why? How? You’ve never been here before, nor did you know anyone who stayed at such a dump.

“Ah, there you are, my friend! What a pleasure to see you!”

You pivoted sharply to face behind you, and your eyes widened in shock at the familiar face.

Standing before you, a large toothy-grin plastered across his face, was Alastor. The owner of your soul, your eternal boss, the Radio Demon, and the butt end of most of your unfunny jokes—which you would never dare say in front of him.

“You!”

Your finger lifted, pointing accusingly at the tall, red demon. He only tilted his head amusingly at you, that smile only growing wider as you frowned.

“Yes, it is I. I’m glad you remember my face, how are you today?” 

“What do you want?” You grumbled, ignoring his question. You crossed your arms before taking a step back. There were others behind him, but it was Alastor you were focused on as you waited for his response.

“Oh, just some charity work. My new friends over here are in need of some more helping hands, so I took it upon myself to volunteer your services!” 

He motioned to the others behind him, and you glanced at the strangers. One of them was a woman with long, platinum-blonde hair, who smiled awkwardly at you with a wave. 

“That’s great!” You replied sarcastically, throwing your hands up in exasperation, “but couldn’t you wait until after my gig? I was about to make some good money!”

Alastor only sidled up to you, before wrapping his arm around your shoulders and pulling you against his cheek as if you two were best friends. You wanted to recoil from his touch, but you knew you’d get nothing good out of that action. 

“Oh, I am terribly sorry about that, my friend. But, we do have an agreement, as I'm sure you are well aware. Which means, for the time being, you’ll be living here at the hotel!”

Of course you were aware of the “agreement”, the guy had your soul! 

“What hotel?”

“The Hazbin Hotel! What do you think about the name, hm? I came up with it myself!” 

“It’s kind of lame.” 

“Oh-ho! You are such a charm, my dear! I can always count on you to liven up the room with your jokes.”

You sighed, uncrossing your arms and lowering them to your sides in defeat. You were stuck here, with Alastor, until he no longer needed your presence. As always.

“I still would have appreciated a call beforehand or something.” 

“Take my arrival back in the city as the call, my friend. My return was no doubt discussed by many. You knew I’d acquire your assistance at some point.”

Yes, that’s right. Alastor had been gone a good, what, seven years? It was strange, how he had just disappeared without a word or any kind of clue to his location. Where had he gone? Why was he being so secretive about it?

You didn’t miss him, of course. His absence was a mini vacation for you, a break from endless favors that he deemed you worthy to complete. What a joke.

“Now, why don’t we go and introduce you to all these fantastic fellows, hm?” He spoke, a command deep in his static-laced tone.

You turned back towards the small group of demons, who stood a few feet away silently as the two of you bickered. Standing slightly away from the rest, was a familiar furry face. Husker. He was here too? 

Nudging you forward with his cane, you walked up to the onlookers, who regarded you with a mixed expression. The shorter gray lady stood glaring at you with suspicion, her eyes darting between you and Alastor.

Beside her, was that pretty pale-faced demon in the red tuxedo. She smiled broadly at you, her eyes practically gleaming in excitement at seeing the multiple new faces.

“Hello! My name is Charlie, and this is my hotel! I'm so glad to have you aboard!” 

“..Hi, it’s good to meet you too.”

“Let me introduce you to our crew! Over there is my girlfriend, Vaggie!”

She motioned towards the shorter gray woman, and you looked at her more carefully. She had an X across her eye, barely visible with the long hair she situated across half her face. She still eyed you with suspicion, but her demeanor had softened as Charlie spoke to you.

“And, over there is Angel Dust, our first resident of the hotel!”

“How ya doing, Sugar?” Angel winked at you, as he leaned against the bar counter. Husk stood behind the counter, a thin line on his lips.

“I’m sure you’re familiar with Husker and Niffty, right?” 

You nodded, your gaze meeting Husk’s. His eyes softened just a teeny bit, before he let out a hmph and turned away towards the shelves of bottles against the wall.

Your attention turned back to Charlie, as she began filling you in with the details about the hotel and her plans.

She seemed like a sweet girl, passionate and imaginative. When she described her dreams to you, for the hotel, for the entirety of Hell, you listened carefully.

Sinners.. being redeemed? Going to Heaven? That seemed too good to be true. Unbelievable, almost. Sure, some of the demons down here weren’t too bad, but surely none of them were good enough to actually climb to the pearly gates. 

Charlie seemed… different from other dreamers, though, like she could actually get it to work. You couldn’t pinpoint exactly what made you think so. Maybe it was because she was the princess of Hell, and was the second highest on the food chain of this damned place.

You were lucky with how down-to-earth she was, or your bluntness would have probably gotten you smited by now.

In comparison to Charlie, you were a nobody. Well, you were nobody in general. You didn’t own anything of value, not even your soul.

Charlie didn’t act like a princess though. Such as how she spoke to you, and her friends. No command in her tone, no true motives behind layers of smiles and sweetly spoken lies. 

If she was the owner of your soul, maybe life wouldn’t be so bad. She treated everyone fairly, without judgment of who they used to be. Only dreaming of who they could be.

Was the King of Hell the same? How much did Charlie mirror her father, anyway? 

“So.. what can you do?” Charlie broke you from your thoughts, she was turned to you, her gaze meeting yours intently as she waited for you to respond.

“Well, I'm a performer! Mostly aerobatics, but I can dance and other tricks. Oh! I’m also a crowd-pleaser, i’m a really smooth talker.”  

“That’s ssooooo cool! You do that kind of stuff, like, in the circus?”

“Mostly, yes. Any odd jobs I can find looking for my skill set, really. I’m not picky when it comes to money.”

Charlie contemplated your words for a moment, her eyes darting. She’s already got a bartender and a cleaning lady, but where to put you…

“I’m also fantastic at pick-pocketing.” You grinned pridefully at her. It was something you were very good at, and that you had continued to perfect during your time in Hell.

It was also what led you to make that wretched deal with Alastor. 

“Oh.. um, let’s stick with your other skills, hm?” Charlie smiled awkwardly, before she turned her head, and her eyes landed on an empty desk situated near the large entrance doors. 

She perked, her eyes widening in glee as she spun around towards you. 

“That’s it! You can be our new receptionist! You’ll answer calls and greet all our newcomers, and you’ll be in charge of making sure all our guests are well taken care of during their stay.”

Your smile faltered, your gaze resting on the desk behind Charlie before meeting her eyes once more. You chuckled like she had just told you a good joke. Except when your eyes met hers again, she only smiled at you in anticipation.

Wait, was she serious?

“I’m sorry,” you started, lifting your hands up and shaking your head, “but that is not something i’m good at nor-“

“Well I think it’s a splendid idea!” Alastor appeared besides you, his hand resting on your shoulder. His claws dug slightly into your suit, and you whipped your head up, eyeing him with animosity. 

His eyes were squinted, a glare behind that wide grin. ‘Stay in line, or else.’ was his silent command. You scrunched up your nose, ready to argue, but the intellectual part of your brain smacked you upside the head. 

Your shoulders drooped, that frown deepening before you turned to Alastor. You pulled your shoulder from his grip, and looked at Charlie. 

“Fine.”

And, that’s how it was for a time. 

There wasn’t much to do, in all honesty. As the months ticked by, you sat at that desk drowning in boredom. The people at the hotel were lively, but the job? Not so much.

While Alastor was the face, you were the paperwork. Although, he barely acted like it, which meant you took most of the work. 

There were barely any phone calls, any new visitors, anything new at all really. So, you instead filled your days with walking around the hotel, observing the rooms of any renovations that Alastor could make, or you’d write shopping lists for groceries and other miniscule items for the crew, and going out yourself to shop. 

There was that one demon, the snake inventor, that had become a resident during your time working. You had been there, when he attacked Alastor on the hotel’s doorstep. Your mouth agape as you watched him tear a piece of your boss’s suit, waiting for the snake to meet his death.

He didn’t, surprisingly. Instead, he had arrived not too long after apologizing. Which was shocking, and.. eye opening. 

Could Charlie’s dream come true? Alastor spoke of it as if it would turn into nothing but a failure. You had believed him, but now, that doubt was fading from your mind.

Could.. there be a chance for you too? 

You had mentally slapped yourself for that thought. You, redeemed? With no soul, you were trapped here. Only ever being able to watch from the sidelines as those more worthy ascended. 

Thoughts like that only came when you had drank a little too much. Finger mindlessly circling the rim of your wine glass, brow furrowed as you lamented over your poor decisions, you’d sit at the bar in silence late at night.

Nobody bothered you during those times, not even Alastor. No one saw the way your lip began to quiver, the way your vision blurred with tears.

No one noticed the surface of your drink disturbed with a droplet of salty sadness as it mixed with the bitter alcohol. 

‘You don’t deserve to feel sorry for yourself,’ you’d think bitterly, soaked anger spilling down your cheeks, ‘you damned yourself to eternal suffering the moment you shook that demon’s hand.’

Taking the glass, you’d lift it to your lips and empty the rest of the contents. That salty tang still hanging on your tongue when you set the glass back down.

On the worst nights, you’d simply rest your head against the countertop. The cool surface refreshing to your warm cheek, as you curled into yourself, and drifted into a restless sleep.

When you’d wake a few hours later, your blood-shot, tired eyes would open to the sight of a glass of ice-cold water and a migraine pill sitting a few feet away from your face. 

You never saw who catered to your hungover needs, but you had an inkling of a guess.

Lifting your head, you’d blink away the morning fog before sitting up straight with a groan. Slowly, you’d reach out and grab the small capsule and the water, before swallowing both in one large gulp.

Then, it was back to work as always.

Sometimes, you’d actually that phone on your desk would brnnnggg loudly, and you’d leap out of your chair to have a conversation with a fresh new voice. 

“You guys at least provide free Hash, right?” The masculine voice on the other end questioned.

“Sir, this a hotel meant for redemption. Y’know, to Heaven? We don’t have any paraphernalia here.” You grumbled, pinching the bridge of your nose in frustration as you listened to the guy.

“Wait.. so you’re saying Heaven doesn’t have joints?”

“I’ve never been up there, obviously. Though I'm sure drugs are a big no-no up there.” 

“Then what the fuck is the point of wanting to go up there?! No weed? No sex toys? Fuck Heaven! Fuck you and your stupid little hotel!” 

“Choke on dick and die!” You snarled, slamming the phone back into place. You leaned back in the chair, fuming silently. The calls never ended well. 

“Good job, you’re really pulling in all those potential residents.” A sarcastic voice piped up near you.

Your head snapped to the bar across the room, your gaze resting on the black and white feline who was busy cleaning glasses on the counter. 

Standing from your spot, you stroll over to the bar, before nestling into one of the bar stools. Placing a hand under your chin, you rested your elbow against the shiny countertop.

“Pour an old friend a drink, won’t you Husk?” You asked sweetly, batting your eyelashes at him. 

His soul was owned by Alastor too, and even if you didn’t know the guy too well, you felt a kinship with him. You both were hollow beings, now.

“We ain’t friends,” the demon grumbled, “I'm just stuck with you and Niffty until I kick the bucket.”

“Okay, Mr. Grumpy-Pants.” You laughed as he reached for your go-to bottle. Same old, adorably-cross Husker. 

He was getting better, though. Happier, even. The night he disappeared to go retrieve Angel Dust, he came back with a bounce in his step. Seemingly more at peace, with whatever happened between the two away from prying eyes.

Once, you swore you heard him humming some old, happy tune while he organized the liquor bottles on the shelf. Husk.. singing? That was something you thought you’d never see.

He had a very good poker face, and half the time you couldn’t tell if the kitty even liked you. He always regarded you like he was behind a closed, see-through door. Getting close to you just enough to see and speak to you, but never enough you could actually reach out and use him for support. Hopefully, he was getting better with that too.

Maybe, with how things were going, he’d let you scratch his chin one day. You always wanted to try it, see if he purred just like they did back on Earth.

“What do you think about the hotel?”  You asked him, as he popped the cap off the bottle with his claw, and began pouring a glass in front of your seat.

“It ain’t too bad,” Husk replied truthfully, “But, it could be better.”

“I agree, I was having a pretty good time out on my own before this. Guess we’ll just have to get used to it, I’m not sure how long Alastor plans to keep us here.”

“You don’t know?” 

You raised an eyebrow at the feline, as you took a sip of your drink. “No, I don’t. Why would you think I do?” 

“Well, I just assumed the two of you would discuss those kind things.”

“You think I talk to Alastor about his deceitful plans with this place?” 

“Why wouldn’t you? I mean, you two are practically the same, with your silver-tongue and all.”

You leaned back, a mixture of surprise and disgust on your face at his words. Husk thought you and Alastor were like, what, best buddies? The demon that owned your soul?

“That’s a fucking lie,” You growled, glaring at him, “I’m not like that douchebag at all. Just because I’m good at talking my way out of tough shit, doesn’t mean I use them to manipulate people into making magical deals that fuck up their entire existence.” 

Using your feet, you pushed your chair back forcefully. It scraped harshly against the wooden floor, as you stood up from the stool. You didn’t even glance at Husk as you sharply turned away, and stomped across the room.

“Thanks for the drink, Asshole.” You called as you turned the corner into a long hallway, towards your room.

You didn’t speak to Husker for a while after that, or go to the bar. Instead, you worked and kept to yourself in your room. It wasn’t until you walked into the lobby one early morning, did you see the feline.

He was standing with the rest of the crew, concern etched across their faces as they circled around a mumbling, erratic Charlie Morningstar. 

“Why isn’t the hotel working?!” You could hear her fume, as she fussed over a large tack board filled with drawings and pictures. 

It wasn’t until about a half an hour later, when Charlie had hung up the phone with her father, did you realize the day was going to get much stranger.

“Alright, guys! My dad is going to be here in one hour, so we have to make this place perfect!” She said, a nervous smile on her lips as she addressed the small crowd.

Everyone tensed, their eyes darting to each other at her words.

Charlie’s dad was coming? Lucifer Morningstar? The King of Hell?!

Suddenly, the room bursted into action. Sir. Pentious slithered to the kitchen, claiming he needed to bake sweets for Lucifer’s arrival. Charlie was practically hyperventilating as Vaggie rubbed her shoulder soothingly. 

“Aw man, I gotta go put on my new perfume!” Angel Dust yelled from the chaos, as he sped away towards his room. Husk continued wiping down the bar countertop, but a little more feverishly now. 

Alastor was the only one seemingly unchanged by the news of the king’s arrival. He only stood there grinning, as the others rushed around him, before beginning to push back his cuticles.

“I’m just going to go… put on some better clothes.” You called, unsure if anyone was even listening as they scrambled about. 

You quickly left the lobby, running to your room to clean yourself up and look presentable. Your mind raced as you did so, recalling all the rumors and gossip you’ve heard over the years.

Was he a cruel king? He couldn’t be, not with how Charlie turned out. But, with her reaction to asking for his help… that was strange. She had never spoken of him before, so it didn’t seem like they were that close.

What was he going to think of you? You’ve never stood before such an important figure, other than Charlie, but that was wayyy different than speaking to the most powerful man in the realm.

You’d just have to make him like you, to avoid any trouble. You needed to charm the King of Hell, just like you’ve done successfully with so many others.

You adjusted your appearance in the mirror, before nodding your head in self-approval. You crossed your room, pulling open the door, and making your way down the stairs. 

When you returned to the lobby, everyone was making last minute preparations. 

Sir. Pentious was busy tidying the cookies on the cooking sheet in front of him. Angel Dust was finishing hanging up the balloons around the room, while Charlie was hyping herself up in the corner.

A large banner with a handwritten message ‘It’s A Boy!’ hung from the ceiling, and you shook your head in embarrassment with a smile.

When you had made it back to the group, there was barely any time to talk before you heard a knock at the front door.

Everyone froze, and Charlie exhaled a large breath of nerves, before crossing the distance towards the door. She pulled it open, and a white hat poked from over her shoulder.

“Charlie!” 

You heard him before you saw him, and he sounded like a burst of sunshine as you watched Charlie get pulled into his bear hug.

She sputtered against his tight grip, before he finally released her. You could see the wide brim hat poking out of her figure, see that silly apple that stuck out from the top of his cane, as they talked for a few more moments.

It wasn’t until Charlie turned to face you and the rest of the crew, did you see Lucifer Morningstar’s face. Your breath hitched, eyes widening as you drank in his figure.

Fuck. He was gorgeous. 

He definitely presented himself like a king, with how he stood with his back straight and head held high. He rested slightly against his cane, his interest piqued at the new faces.

As his gaze swept across the lobby, it briefly landed on you, and your heart fluttered in your chest. God, his eyes were so pretty. They were a soft, muted yellow, like buttercream. 

They held many emotions too, you could see it. There was deep sadness that never left his gaze, as if it followed him like a shadow. It was something you felt followed you too. What was his story? 

Your eyes traced the rest of his appearance, landing next on the golden strands nestled under his hat.

That platinum-blonde hair practically glowed underneath the chandelier lighting, as it curled delicately around his face. It looked so smooth and silky, like the guy had a 10-step hair care routine. It probably smelled amazing too. 

And, those cute little rosy cheek spots on the sides of his mouth, that stood out from his pale skin. If you tilted your head just right, you’d say he looked just like a cockatiel.

But, it was his smile that enraptured you. Not the fake one, that wide, awkward mess across his lips he did as a way to appeal to Charlie.

No, it was instead that warm, genuine grin that lit up his entire face, crinkling the corners of his eyes in a way that made you feel like you were the only person in the room. The smile that only appeared during tender moments, like when his daughter rubbed her cheek against his affectionately. 

You hoped he would start to smile like that more often. 

Charlie had approached your group, introducing Lucifer slowly through your companions. Your heartbeat quickened as they made their way closer to you. 

Taking a deep breath, you clasped your hands together, smiling warmingly at the duo approaching. Charlie stopped, turning to her father as she began to introduce you.

“And thisss is our receptionist! They’re in charge of handling most of our inbound and outbound affairs, and in helping us capture potential residents too!” 

“And I'm doing a fantastic job at that, by the way.” You declared to the two, that smile of yours widening as you edged closer to them. You lifted your arm, extending a hand towards the fallen angel.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you, Your Highness.” 

God, could this dude get any more perfect? The closer he got, the warmer you felt your body temperature become, like he was practically the sun itself.

He regarded it for a moment, before hesitantly taking your grip. His hands were soft, but firm. The gold band on his pinkie grazed across your finger, it was cool to the touch, giving you much needed relief to the growing intensity of the heat of his grasp.

His eyes traveled up yours once more, to your eyes as they flickered between your batting lashes, and to your pretty smile that only grew wider as you leaned forward.

“The pleasure is all mine.” He spoke softly with a grin, as he looked you over. His voice was like silk, and you wanted to wrap it around yourself like a sheet. 

A stark difference to Alastor’s, who gave you a headache listening to that static overlay every time the guy opened his mouth.

“This is your first time here, right?”

“Yes, I'm just here to give my daughter the support she needs for her little project.” Lucifer nodded, glancing over to Charlie as he spoke.

“Well, I hope your opinion of the hotel has improved now that you’ve seen it in person.” 

“Oh, believe me, it has.” He assured, that nervous grin disappearing from his face, and you could see a playful smirk slowly blooming on his lips.

That was before his eyes landed on the bar at the other end of the room, his hand left yours as he turned to face it. You pulled your arm back, clenching your hand as his warmth faded from your skin.

“What in the unholy Hell is that?”

You stood up straight, as he walked closer to the bar. Only for Alastor to appear right behind him, a deadly grin on his lips as he strutted forward.

“Just some renovations we’ve had done, adds a little bit of color! Don’t you think?”

You sighed, your lips twisting into a slight frown as you watched the tension in the room escalate with every word Lucifer and Alastor exchanged. It wasn't until Charlie sidled up beside her father, that the drama got good.

“I guess that’s why they call it the Has-Been Hotel, eh?” Lucifer grinned, nudging Charlie with his elbow.

You snorted, your hand coming up to cusp your mouth at the sudden outburst. His dad joke was just so hilariously stupid—not to mention, it was pointed at Alastor, which was bonus points—you couldn’t contain the noise you made.

All eyes turned to you, and you felt sweat beading at your forehead from all the sudden attention.

Alastor still had that large toothy grin, but his eyes were squinted in a glare as his head snapped uneasily towards you. 

It was Lucifer’s gaze that captured your attention, though. He turned in surprise, as if shocked someone actually laughed at his joke. It wasn’t until he saw that the person that laughed was you, did he seem to slightly puff out his chest, a prideful grin dancing on his lips.

Heat flooded your cheeks as he sent you a mischievous wink, before his attention turned back to Alastor as the demon laughed2.

“Yes, Ha-Ha. It was actually my idea, though.” 

“Ha-Ha, well, it’s not very clever!” 

“A-Ha! Fuck you.”

You had stood to the side, as the two demons bickered and fought for Charlie’s attention. The insecurities of both became increasingly obvious to you as time went on.

Alastor, with his uneasiness that someone of much higher stature and power could take his role in the hotel. And, Lucifer, who’s relationship with his daughter was sour enough that the idea of someone replacing his role as a father caused him to short circuit.

Then, when a short, rotund woman bursted through the front doors, dressed like a flapper and fawning over Alastor, you realized even more how today was looking to be a really strange day.

Mimzy, an old friend of Alastor’s from when they were both swinging through the 20’s and 30’s back on Earth. 

You didn’t know her very well, other than she never stopped talking, and in your opinion, had an ego bigger than Alastor’s. But, you’ve been around long enough to know that whenever she came around, it was only to beg Alastor for help when she fucked up.

Your opinion of her only worsened when the wall a few feet away from you blew open less than ten minutes later. 

The chaos that ensued was even worse, as bullets began ripping through the walls of the hotel. Loan Sharks, snarling Mimzy’s name with venom, threw another explosive towards the building. 

When Alastor had suddenly arrived, shifting into his demonic form, you breathed a sigh of relief as he began to decimate the little army outside.

One of them was falling right above your head, and you tried to scramble away. 

Before it could turn you into a stain on the carpet, it suddenly jerked away, smashing into the closest wall instead. Gold sparks faded from around its wooden frame, and you turned your head to see Lucifer at the other end of the room with Charlie, his eyes trailing your form as you beelined for the opposite wall.

Another explosion rocked the lobby again, and you stumbled on your feet. A table skidded quickly across the floor, heading right for you.

The adrenaline pumping through your veins sent your body into overdrive, and you swiftly lean down, lowering your hands to meet the floor. With a powerful push, you launch yourself into a graceful somersault, your body arching elegantly over the crashing obstacle. Time seems to stretch as you execute the maneuver with precision, feeling the rush of wind against your skin as you spin through the air. Your back barely grazing the table’s surface before you landed into a roll. 

You shoot up from the ground, heart racing, a dumbstruck smile blooming across your lips at the realization you were still in one piece.

You were too preoccupied with Sir. Pentious barreling into your side; that you missed the pale face mirroring your  expression, as he watched you clear the table. 

By the time you untangled yourself from the snake demon, the dust had begun to settle in the room. Alastor had killed—or eaten—most of the Loan Sharks, and was now standing on the front lawn, cleaning bits of meat from underneath his nails.

Husk lifted his head slowly from behind the bar, eyes scanning the perimeter for danger. Mimzy crawled out from under the bar stools, before scurrying outside to speak with Alastor.

“Jesus, is everyone okay?” Angel Dust called, while Charlie was helping dust off stray pieces of rubble from Vaggie’s hair.

“HELPPPP!” Came the loud, mousy squeal from above your head. Eyes lifting to the ceiling, you see Niffty clutching a support beam with her life.

“Niffty? How the fuck did’ya get up there?!” Angel Dust yelled back, arms thrown in the air in exasperation.

It had partially dislodged from the ceiling, hanging loosely by one end. Niffty poked her head out from the side, her large eye darting across the room, as she waited for someone to come to her aid.

Your gaze traveled down from the support beam, your eyes landing on a water pipe, broken and sticking out from a large crack in the wall. It hung just perfectly in between you and Niffty, which would allow you to reach her quickly.

If you could just get a boost… aha! Your gaze lands on the partially torn couch that was scooted a few feet across the room from the explosions. If you leapt off its back, you could swing from the broken water pipe and use it to catapult yourself right next to Niffty. 

Lucifer analyzed the ceiling before turning to his daughter, smirking as he slowly lifted his cane.

“Don’t worry, I’ve got thi-“ 

“Hang on, Niff! I’m coming!” Your voice rang through the room, your footsteps echoing as you ran towards the damaged furniture. 

Taking a large leap, your feet hit the backrest of the couch. The muscles in your legs tense as you lower yourself slightly to vault forward and up, your arms shooting above your head as you close in on the pole.

Your fingers wrap around its chilling, metal surface; and with your palms snug against its frame, you swing forward, arching your body so your feet begin to lift above your head. 

You release the pole, your legs high in the air as you lift yourself up. You feel the wooden beam graze to the back of your knee pit, and you curl your legs around its base, hanging upside down.

Tensing all the muscles in your abdomen, you use the momentum to swing your legs around the beam and your butt hits the top of its base. You blink, your heart pounding in your chest as you exhale a sigh of relief.

Damn, that felt good. This was so much better than rotting at a desk all day, you really missed your old job. 

Niffty shot up next to you, wrapping her little arms around your forearm in glee.

“You came to rescue me, you’re my hero!” 

“Yeah, yeah. Just hang on, little lady.” 

You pulled her close, before getting to your feet. You lean over the edge, the only thing catching your eyes that you could use was that water pipe.

Okay, you’ve done a bit of parkour before. Piece of cake. 

You knelt slightly, before leaping from the beam. You stuck on foot out in front of you, and you felt your sole hit the top of the pipe. It was like taking a large step, as you swung your other leg forward and launched yourself with the other. 

Curling your legs, you practically cannonball into the couch. The large, plush cushions swallowed you for a moment, before spitting you back onto your feet in front of it.  

“Holy shit, ya didn’t die!” Angel Dust exhaled a sigh of relief, walking up to you. Niffty fussed in your hold, and you gently lowered her to the ground.

Niffty ran to Angel, who kneeled down to fuss over her for any injuries. You turned from the duo, before you caught sight of another figure coming forward.

“You’re an acrobat, aren’t you?” Lucifer said, a hint of astonishment in his tone as he strolled up to you, his eyes gleaming with interest.

“Yes, well, mostly. But I can do a lot of other things too.” You nodded, smiling bashfully at his facial expression.

“Wow! I mean, heh—boy, I haven’t seen anyone do that perfect of a maneuver in a long time. You looked like a ballerina up there with how strict your form was when you were swinging.”

Did Lucifer just.. compliment you? He knew about aerobics enough to make that kind of judgment on you? Man, this guy just kept getting better and better.

It should have been obvious, though. His silly red-and-white attire had struck you as familiar when you first saw him, and now you realized it was similar to the getup of a Ringmaster.

“Thank you, I've been practicing since I was young. I’ve even done a few circus acts before, and it’s always such a thrill. I'd do it over and over again without getting tired.”

“I think that’s called being an adrenaline junkie.” Lucifer teased, a playful smile on his lips. “But, really, that was good. Impressive, even.”

“Not as impressive as saving me from getting crushed by the ceiling.” 

Lucifer’s eyes widened just a tad, and he nervously adjusted his long collar, his smile turning bashful now.

“Oh, you.. you saw that?”

You nodded, “Yes, I did. Thank you. Also, your magic is just so pretty, they’re like little golden fireworks!”

Before Lucifer could speak, you leaned in closer to him. Your ear just barely grazing the brim of his hat as you smiled.

“And, I just wanted to let you know, I agree with you about the hotel name,” you inched closer to his face, your voice lowering as you spoke with a honeyed tone, “I have no doubt you would come up with a better name, Your Highness.” 

Lucifer tensed, and you thought you could see those red spots on his cheek darkening just a shade. 

He lowered his head slightly after that, his face mostly obscured by the brim of his hat. You couldn’t see what he was doing, but, was that an edge of a smile on his lips?

After a second, Lucifer cleared his throat, before lifting his head again.

“I’m glad we share the same appreciation for aesthetics. It’s been a pleasure speaking with you.” 

“Hey, Dad? Can I, um, speak to you? About the hotel?” Charlie spoke, approaching. A firm look on her face, as if it was rather important.

“Of course, I’ll be right there,” Lucifer nodded, before turning back to you, “Again, a pleasure to meet you. I hope we get to talk again.” 

Then, he did something you never expected, he curtsied. Your eyes widened, the King, showing you such a gesture of respect? All for what, doing a few tricks in the air?

Heat creeped onto your cheeks after that, and you watched him turn away, following after his daughter. Leaving you to stew about your encounter with Lucifer for the rest of the day.

Well, your thoughts on the King of Hell definitely stayed when you awoke the next morning, and the morning after that. 

Your thoughts were still there in that lobby as you sat at your desk one afternoon, your hands organizing a large stack of papers. They had a picture of the Hazbin Hotel on them, along with words that basically screamed ‘Come check us out!’

The plan was to distribute the posters around the city.  Buildings, poles, doorways, anything that could hold a staple was your target. 

You were fiddling around in your drawer, searching for extra staples when you heard it. A gentle rapping against the front doors, which made you lift your head.

There was no one else in the lobby, not even Husk. Slowly, you walked towards the doors, and the silhouette of a hat stuck out from the bottom of the stained glass.

Is that..?

Reaching to the handle, you pull it open, and met the familiar soft, yellow gaze. His lips curved into a smile at your appearance, and he lifted his hand in greeting.

“Oh! Hello, again!” 

Fuck, he was still gorgeous. Definitely an Angel, no doubt about that. His pearlescent skin practically glittered in the red hues of the afternoon light behind him, and you averted your gaze for a moment, trying not to be blinded by his ethereal beauty.

“Your highness? I’m—ahem, well, sorry. I’m just surprised to see you back so soon. What are you doing here?”

“I'm here to see Charlie, of course!” He exclaimed, strolling right past you into the lobby. His eyes scanned the room, resting for a moment disapprovingly on the bar, before landing on the large desk. 

“Is this where you work?” He motioned towards its wooden frame, you sidled up to him, before nodding.

“Yep. Hardly move from there during the day.”

“You sit there all day? Yeesh, that’s terrible.” 

“Mhm. Pretty boring, actually.”

“Well, if you ever want a better career, I’m sure I could find you a job at LuLu World, I’ve got a circus that runs year round there.”

LuLu World? The theme park he owned? You had never been there before, but it always sounded amazing. And, he thought you’d be a great fit there too. He couldn’t have been that impressed by a few of your maneuvers. Maybe, he just needed to go to an actual circus and see the real performers.

“I’d love to, but I'm kind of stuck here.”

“Why?” Lucifer turned to you, an eyebrow raised. 

“Well, um—” 

‘My soul is owned by the demon you have beef with, and I can’t exactly leave without his permission. I also can’t tell you this because I apparently signed an NDA too.’

“—I just want to help people! So, I made a promise that I wouldn’t leave until I made a difference. Y’know, really make an effort to improve this wonderful community!” You responded with fake cheer, clasping your hands together.

Lucifer regarded you for a moment, his fingers fidgeting against the apple on his cane as he thought.

“Oh.. well, that’s generous of you. But, someone with your skill set doesn’t deserve to rot away in a place like this, I’m sure you’d make a difference somewhere more relevant.”

“Are you trying to get rid of me, Your Highness?” You teased, your nails grazing against the desk as you walked past him, before pivoting to face him.

“What? No! Of course not, just—forget I said anything.”  He chuckled nervously, before fussing with his long collar. He seemed to do that often when

Aw, he got all flustered when he thought you were serious. Who knew the embodiment of Pride had such bad self esteem.

“Charlie went out to run some errands, but she should be on her way back, actually. Can I get you anything to drink while you wait?”

“Chamomile Tea, if you have it?”

You nodded, before walking towards the small counter behind your desk. There was a coffee machine, a toaster, and a large, electric kettle. You placed the kettle underneath the small sink, filling it up, before switching it on and setting it down. 

It would take a little time for the water to heat, so you returned to where your visitor awaited.

Lucifer leaned against your desk slightly, his fingers mindlessly tapping at his cane, his eyes staring at the wall. There he goes again, lost in his thoughts. Which he seemed to do quite often.

Would it be rude to wake him from his stupor? You had only just met him, so maybe, don’t push your luck.

You turned your attention back onto the stack of posters, flicking through each one as you counted. You heard Lucifer shuffle beside you, before clearing his throat. 

“What are you doing?”

“Posters for the hotel. I’m going to put them up around the city later today.” You held one out to him, and he took it from your grasp. His fingers grazed yours, and you could feel the warmth seeping into your skin from just that small touch.

When he pulled his hand away, that warmth left you, and you felt that never-ending chill seep back into your bones again. It was something that followed you since you made that deal with Alastor. As if your soul was the sun, and you just got shoved down a long, dark well. 

You could only claw at the edges for so long, letting the blood from your nails drip into the standing water at your feet, before you gave up trying. You’ve been sitting in that well for a long time, allowing time to pass by.

But, for some reason, since you arrived at the hotel, you’ve begun to start digging at the cracks of that well again. Maybe, if you got your claws in deep enough, you’d find that beam of sunlight.

“Hm, the drawings seems.. a little off. Did you do this?” Lucifer dragged you out of your thoughts, as he looked at you expectantly. 

Shaking your head, you chuckled softly. “No, unfortunately, stick figures are my only language in the arts. I think Charlie drew it.”

“Did I say this drawing was off? I lied! Ha-ha, yeah, this is great work.” Lucifer quickly replied, brushing off his earlier comment.

You were going to open your mouth to respond, before you heard the loud whistling of the kettle. You turned, watching the steam pour out of its lid, and quickly ran to fetch it.

You pulled a small tea cup from its stand on the edge of the counter, before filling it full with the water from the kettle.

Reaching towards a small cupboard, your fingers sorted through the different herbal flavors as you looked for one in particular. When your eyes finally caught the light green packaging, you pulled it out.

“Hey, this might seem like an odd question, but do you like caramel?” Lucifer asked from behind you. You turned your head slightly, taking a glance at him. His nails clicked against his cane, fast and nervous as he waited.

“Yes, I do. It’s not my favorite sweet treat, but I've definitely indulged in it a few times.”

Taking a few moments as you spoke, you ripped open the package. Holding the small string in between your thumb and your index finger, you carefully placed the tea bag into the steaming water. 

“Great! I was wondering, well, I mean—you see, I made some caramel apples for Charlie. Except, she hasn’t had one of mine since she was a girl, so I just wanted someone to take a test bite before I presented it to heel

Slowly, you could see the color begin to change as the herbal goodness was dispersed in the cup. You turned to him slowly, eyebrows raised as you regarded him.

“You want me to.. try one of your apples?”

“Yes! That would be great, just to know I still got the gourmet chef in me.” He smiled, lifting up a finger right above his lips, and swirling it in the air. As if twirling a long mustache.

“Your tea, Your Majesty.” You chuckled, bending your head slightly, placing it down on the desk in front of him. When you lifted your head, you were greeted with the sight of a large, light-brown coated apple. 

“It’s not poisoned I promise.” He teased, a lopsided grin on his face as he held the treat out to you, his fingers clasped around the kabob-like stick poking out of the bottom.

Carefully, you lifted your arm, plucking the caramel apple away from his grip. When you had it between your fingers, Lucifer reached down to take the tea cup from the desk, before swirling the mix around slightly. He blew at its surface, and the liquid rippled as steam still rose from it.

He gingerly lifted it to his lips, his pinky lifting away from the handle as he did so. His eyes softened as the herbal flavoring hit his tongue, and his body seemed to relax as warmth bloomed under his skin and the drink traveled down his throat.

‘He drinks with his pinky out? That’s so cute.’ You gushed silently, never did you think the King of Hell would practice such mannerisms. But, in all honesty, he didn’t seem like he should be in Hell at all. Guess that’s what happens, when the highest powers known to man punish you for being you.

His eyes never left you as he drank, as he waited for you to take a bite. You turned the treat in your grip, inspecting it a final time. Carefully, you lifted it to your face, and took a bite of its side.

Lucifer seemed to grimace as your mouth closed against the large chunk of apple. You chewed for a moment, letting your taste buds do the work. Then, your brain short-circuited at the sensations, and your eyes lit up.

“Woa-hu-ho! This is fantastic!” You beamed, and Lucifer’s eyes widened in a look of surprise.

“Really..?”

“Yes! It’s actually really good! I think Charlie is going to love it!” You nodded briskly, taking another bite of delicacy.

“Ha, well. Guess I still got it in me after all this time.” He boasted, chest puffing just slightly at your compliments.

You obliterated that apple in front of him, taking barely a moment to breathe as you scarfed it down. God, his cooking was actually really good. What else could he make?

Lucifer only watched you, a faint smile on his lips as he watched you devour the treat. As if he was fascinated by your sudden primal hunger. 

Your eyes met his and you stopped suddenly, covering your mouth as you continued to chew. Heat flooding your cheeks in embarrassment.

“I’m sorry, Your Majesty, this is pretty rude of me..”

“No! Not at all, if I had more I'd surely give it to you,” he laughed, setting his almost-empty drink back onto the desk, “and please, call me Lucifer. There’s no need to use such titles in a private setting like this.”

Right as he spoke, the front entrance doors burst open, and Charlie and Vaggie strolled in chattering loudly. They held a few shopping bags in their hands, as they entered the lobby.

Right, so much for privacy. Couldn’t you get five more minutes with the #1 bachelor in the realm?

“Oh, Dad!” Charlie exclaimed, surprise etched on her face at seeing Lucifer standing beside you.

“Charlie!” He beamed, strolling over to her. He encompassed her into another of his signature bear hugs, and she sputtered for breath in his hold.

“Wha—gasp—what are you doing here?”

“I just came by to visit, also to take another peek at some renovations that really need to be done. Among other things.”

“Oh, okay! Let me drop this stuff off by Angel Dust, and we can do that.” Charlie smiled at her father, before turning and crossing the room to another hallway.

Lucifer watched her leave, before turning to you, his eyebrows raised as he spoke, “I assume you’ll still be sitting here the next time I stop by?” 

He wanted to see you again? Your brain couldn’t process that thought when the words left his lips.

“As always.” You smiled warmly at him, as you cleaned up the now-empty cup from the desk. You didn’t say ‘Your Majesty’ this time, but you weren’t sure whether calling your king by his real name was appropriate. At least, not yet.

“Good.” He nodded approvingly, before his back faced you and he walked out of the lobby. Your gaze lingered on the corner he had turned out of view from, before you sighed and returned to work. 

You didn’t notice those sickly red eyes watching you intensely from the shaded corner of the room, as you took a seat back at your desk. 

Days like that continued, where you’d be greeted by the soft knocking against the entrance door. And, when you opened it, you’d meet the handsome, smiling face of Lucifer.

“Good morning, I hope you’re hungry!” He’d state as he strolled past you, always stopping right next to your desk first when he came.

You made sure to save your stomach for the delicacy he always carried with him now. Usually, he’d bring two, one for Charlie, and one for you. 

“I need to make sure she’ll like this one too.” He had explained. You were apparently his official taste tester now, but you never complained.

He’d hold the treat out to you, one eyebrow raised playfully, as he presented the caramel apple like a rose.

“Now with sprinkles!” He’d exclaim as you’d gingerly take it from his grip, your fingers brushing against his. The warmth a welcome feeling to your skin.

You’d sit there, feasting on the apple in your seat as he leaned against the desk. He was very chatty, even when he still held reservations around people in general. It never bothered you, of course. It stopped you from getting so bored while you worked.

“Don’t even get me started on Mammon,” Lucifer groaned, as you told him about your most recent circus acts, “the guy will do anything to put more money in his pocket. Y’know, he thinks we’re best buddies or something, thinks that lets him plagiarize my amusement park.”

“Why don’t you tell him to shut it down?”

“Because it brings in more business,” Lucifer had shrugged, “People go there, expecting a good show, and don’t find one. So, they go to my LuLu World, and bam, they never want to leave!”

You chuckled at the name, ‘LuLu’. Yep, you were definitely speaking to the Sin of Pride, alright.

“What’s so funny?” He had asked, curious at your reaction. You straightened yourself, a lop-sided smile on your lips when you realized he caught your laugh.

“Nothing it’s just.. ‘LuLu World’? There had to be something better you could have called it.”

Lucifer gasped, placing a hand on his heart, feigning hurt. “Woah, woah. First, you say I'm good with names, and now you’re laughing at them? Dirty.” 

“Oh, I'm so sorry. Please, good sir, don’t smite me!” You mocked a pain expression, clasping your hands together in a gesture of begging.

“I will allow you to live for now. Can’t have the hotel going into shambles because you’re not here to keep it running.” Lucifer’s voice deepened as he fixed his posture into a much more royal stance. As if he was speaking to a lowly squire in court.

‘I barely do anything around here, but thanks for the confidence boost.’ you’d answer silently, as you leaned back in your chair, watching his antics with amusement.

You began to anticipate his arrival with excitement. Even pouring his tea beforehand, so when he walked through those doors, you’d place a steaming cup into his palms. You always enjoyed the way his eyes softened when he took his first sip.

Hell, you enjoyed.. everything about him. His smile, his jokes, the care he had for his daughter, even if he had a hard time showing it. He made you smile, which was something you haven’t done willingly in a long time. 

And, his smile? That real, true look of happiness that blossomed on his face? That slowly began to return as well. 

For a few months, everything was dandy. Until, one evening, when Alastor summoned you to his room.

He never did that, and that made you nervous.

You stood at the closed door to his room, your heart pounding in your chest. What did he want? Did you do something wrong? Your thoughts just couldn’t still as you fidgeted nervously.

Slowly, you lifted your knuckles to the door. Before you could even graze the wooden surface, the door swung open. It creaked loudly as it did so, and your breath hitched as you began to glimpse inside.

You poked your head in, your eyes scanning across the room. The decorations were so outdated, it almost made you gag. Skeletons of an alligator hung on the wall, its eyes glowing from the string of lights wrapped around its figure.

A large shelf of books, mostly for cooking, stood out against a small wooden table. A small radio sat snug on the desk, playing a gentle jazz tune. On the opposite side of the room, was where that freaky abyss lay. You had never stepped foot there, the part of the room that simply seemed to dissolve into a dark, swampy land. 

Then, you heard humming. Staticy, soft humming, coming from the left side of the room.

Alastor stood over a bloody cutting board, a large kitchen knife in his hand. He wore an apron that was spattered with blood, his usual overcoat was gone, replaced by a dark red tuxedo underneath and a—surprisingly—clean white dress shirt.

He hummed along in sync with the music wafting from the speaker, as he continued to slice along the large slab of meat on the counter. You couldn’t dare think what the flesh used to be as you slipped through the crack, shutting the door softly behind you.

It didn’t seem like he knew you were standing there awkwardly by the door, but you knew he did. How long was he going to have you wait?

Clearing your throat, you spoke softly, “you wanted to see me, Alastor?”

“Ah, hello there, my friend!” He pivoted sharply, his tone chipper as he smiled at you. The knife was still in his grip, and he swirled it in the air playfully. “How are you doing on this fine, hellish evening?”

“Fine..”

“Wonderful! I called you here today because there is something I’ve wanted to discuss with you for some time. You see, I've taken notice that you and our ever-so charming King of Hell have been growing closer these past few months.”

This is what he wanted to talk about? You fought to not roll your eyes at that. 

“Let me guess, you want me to stop talking to him?”

Alastor giggled at that, a maniacal fit of he-he’s as he forcefully stabbed the knife into the slab of flesh. It stuck out like a grim warning, as he brushed his hands against his apron before removing it entirely. 

“On the contrary,” he spoke as he hung the apron against a dining chair, “I want you to get closer to him.”

You blinked, leaning your head back slightly as you processed his words.

“Wait, what?”

Alastor nodded, confirming that you didn’t just hallucinate that. He slowly walked forward, before placing a hand on your shoulder as he moved behind you.

“You see, I believe it’s in both our best interests to forge a deeper connection with our illustrious King. There are certain… opportunities that may arise from such a relationship.”

“Opportunities? What kind of opportunities are we talking about here?”

“Ah, now that would be telling, wouldn’t it? Let’s just say that there are benefits to being in the King’s inner circle. Power, influence, the chance to shape Hell itself… But I’ve said too much already. Just trust me on this one, my dear.”

Trust Alastor? Ha! That was the first joke he’s ever spoken to you that was actually funny. 

Your thoughts raced as he appeared on your other side, his claw grazing across the back of your neck as he rested his hand on your shoulder once more. 

He wanted you to what, fake your attraction to Lucifer? Wanted you to lie and manipulate him so he’d bend to your will, and carry out Alastor’s evil deeds in the guise of caring for you?

“What makes you think he’d even fall for that? He’s an angel, he’s not stupid.”

Alastor chuckled, patting your shoulder as his grin widened. “Haven’t you noticed the change in his demeanor? The little.. pep in his step? Ever since he met you that first day, he’s only grown more attached to you.”

Was that true? Sure, Lucifer seemed to be getting better, slowly. Seemed to smile more genuine as time went on. But, that couldn’t be because of you! He was reconnecting with his daughter, of course he’d be happier at the hotel.

It didn't matter, in the end. You weren’t going to do that to Lucifer. You weren’t going to ruin the one relationship that was built by trust. The question is, could you resist Alastor?

“What if I don’t want to?” You finally ground out, your firsts clenching at your sides.

Suddenly, you felt a chill around your neck, and you gasped at the sensation. You lifted one hand up, to try and feel whatever was clenching at your throat.

Your fingers wrapped around a green, metal collar that seemed to tighten as the seconds ticked by. Energy sizzled against your fingertips, like static. Eyes widening, you ripped your hand away, your feet moving on instinct to get away from him.

Your back hit the wall roughly, your heart practically beating out of your chest as you watched Alastor slowly stalk towards you. His eyes began to shift, resembling that of radio dials. Those small antlers on his head began to rapidly branch out, growing longer every step he took.

“What if you don’t want to? My, what a foolish question.”

He was just inches from your face, that toothy smile practically ear to ear as he leaned in. Lifting a hand, his claws grazed your collar bone, before traveling up towards the glowing green clasp.

A single claw hooked underneath the metal surface, pushing roughly against your throat as he tugged you harshly forward by it. 

His breath hit your face, and you scrunch your nose from the foul odor. He reeked of death.

“It seems you have forgotten who owns your soul, my dear.” He whispered in your ear. You squeezed your eyes shut, your lip quivering as he spoke.

“If you try to resist, try to fight against your chains. I’ll make sure my radio broadcast is filled with nothing but your dying screams.”

Tears pricked at your eyes, the collar only becoming colder as you writhed slightly against his touch.

“I-I’m sorr-“

“You sold your soul to me, don’t forget. If there is anyone to blame for your misfortune, it is you alone.” Alastor hissed, thrusting you even closer to him by your collar. You felt his smile crease brush against your skin, and you shivered.

You were becoming increasingly aware how sickly-yellow his teeth were, compared to Lucifer’s. Disgust began to boil in your belly as you opened your mouth.

“I’ll do it!” You whimpered, your heart pounding, “I’ll do it..”

“Wonderful.” He drawled, before leaning away from you. His claw released your collar, and it dissolved in green fog. You coughed, rubbing your neck, as Alastor took your shoulder and roughly nudged you to the door. 

It opened on its own, and you were pushed through the threshold. 

“I’m glad we could have this little chat,” Alastor’s chipper tone returned, as you stared at him with disgust, “Have a hellish rest of your day, my friend!”

The door slammed shut as he disappeared back into his room. Leaving a rush of angry tears to pool at your feet alone.

Two weeks had passed, since Alastor told you to tug the heartstrings of the King of Hell, to play him right into your fraud-loving palms. Oh, the universe must surely hate you.

You had begun to avoid Lucifer, though. Whenever he was around, catching you at work, you’d continue your silly little chats. You began to memorize the timeframe he’d show up to the hotel, and make some kind of excuse to not be there when he knocked. Either you were out shopping for supplies, or seeing the latest movie. Anything you could think of, you’d leave and force Husker to greet Lucifer.

The guilt of knowing what would happen if Lucifer fell in love with you? It ate you up inside. You hardly slept lately, tossing and turning with terrible nightmares of drowning in that cold, dark, bottomless well. The chains tied to your feet, preventing your escape to the surface.

Would anyone care if you just let yourself sink to the bottom? 

Those thoughts were still on your mind as you did your morning jumping jacks.

You had asked Charlie to use one of her empty storage rooms as a place to practice your acrobatics, which you had started doing every night now. It was any easy escape from your troubles, on the farthest side of the hotel from the lobby, where no one could bother you.

It was a large room, with ceiling-high windows that lit the room with a light red hue. You had convinced Alastor to give you a makeshift gym as a part of your “deal”. If you were going to be forced to be the bad guy, he could at least give you a place to kick ass.

There were multiple gymnastic bars set up at different heights, two balance beams, and a small-scale tightrope. The tightrope was a thick wire connected between two poles across one side of the room, roughly the size of your torso. There was a platform attached to each pole, allowing good foot room on each side of the wire.

Tonight, you were practicing walking on your hands across the balance beam. Sweat dripped from your forehead, and you watched it land onto the leathery cover of the beam beneath you. 

You had made it halfway across, when you heard the door to the room open softly. 

“I didn’t even know there were rooms back here!” An astonished, familiar voice came from the doorway. 

What was Lucifer doing here?!

Your brain short-circuited, and your arms began to wobble beneath you. You lost your balance, and  immediately tumbled off the balance beam with a breathless “Fuck!”

Your side hit the mats below, pain bloomed from your shoulder as you lay there in defeat. You heard a high pitched yelp from behind you, and the sounds of feet pattering against the floor neared.

“You’re not dead, are you?” Lucifer laughed nervously as he kneeled beside you. He reached a hand down to your face, before he hesitated, and instead lifted his cane.

You felt soft poking against your cheek, as he prodded you with the black stick. 

“Stop that.” You grumbled into the mat, stirring slightly from the floor.

“Oh, you’re not dead! What a relief.” He said, exhaling a breath he had been holding. “I’m terribly sorry about that! I didn’t mean to scare you.”

You groaned, before lifting yourself up from the mat. You got to your feet, rubbing your shoulder tenderly.

“It’s fine, I’m fine. What are you doing here, though?” 

Lucifer processed your question for a moment, before he suddenly straightened himself up. Head held high, he strutted over to you, before halting. He glanced at you, before he began fussing with his bow-tie nonchalantly.

“Well, I came to find you.” 

“Why?” 

“Because, I wanted to speak with you. And, you’re conveniently always out of the room when I want to do that.”

Shit. Did he notice you were avoiding him? You didn’t think it was that obvious.

Lucifer watched you intensely, analyzing your reaction to his accusatory statement. He had a firm line on his lips, as if your actions didn’t bother him. 

“I’m not avoiding you.” 

“Oh, really?”

“I came here to improve my aerobatics, before you rudely interrupted me.”

“Right, like you need to improve.”

You turned to him, an eyebrow raised. “What is that supposed to mean?”

“You’re already good at it, there’s no reason for you to come here every day.”

He turned his head to face you as he spoke, and your eyes caught sight of something wiggling slightly on the top of his head. Is that apple decoration not fully attached to his hat?

Suddenly, you had an idea. A playful smile began to bloom on your lips, as you slowly made your way towards him. 

“Actually, that’s not true. I’m not that good at tightrope walking, I’ve told you that before.”

Right before he turned his head so he could trace your movements, you shot your arm above his hat, your fingers pinching around the small apple stem.

You sharply pivoted, facing him now as you walked backwards towards the tightrope platform. The apple hung behind your back, as you kept his gaze. 

“Buuut, I think I’m much better at it than you.”

“Excuse me?”

You turned to face the platform, moving your arm fluidly and taking the stem between your teeth, before lifting yourself on the white surface. 

Gripping the apple once more, you turn to him slowly, watching his eyes widen as you swing the apple between your fingers for his viewing pleasure.

“Actually, I think I'm better at this whole circus bizz than you. Look! I’m a magician even, would you like to see another trick, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer stood there in shock, for a few moments. His red pupils darted from the swiped apple to you, before they dilated slightly. Then, he laughed, an audible ‘Ha ha!’ at your words. 

“You think you’re better at the circus than me?” Lucifer asked slowly, a mixture of disbelief and teasing in his tone.

“Without a doubt!” You called, turning to face the wire. Not giving him a second glance, a smug smile formed on your lips.

Lucifer regarded you a moment, before a mischievous grin played on his face. “Well, let’s prove it then.” 

He lifted his cane, before tapping it against the ground twice. Suddenly, you found the platform vibrating underneath your feet. Then, it began to move. You stumbled, and then fell to your knees, gripping the edges as you squeezed your eyes shut.

What the hell was happening?!

The support pole began to rise up, and up, and up, until it barely grazed against the ceiling. Slowly, you opened one eyelid, and then the other. You were still safe, clutching to the platform. The tightrope was still holding, connected to the pole across the room. 

You exhaled a side of relief, before crawling over to the edge. Your eyebrows flew up in surprise as you judged the distance to the ground, you were roughly three stories in the air!

Did.. Lucifer do that? He took “prove it” to a whole new level with this one. 

You got back onto your feet, the apple still in your palm as you placed your other hand against the support beam. Now, where was Lucifer? Did he stick you up here to starve to death?

“Hey.”

You jumped, reeling back from the voice, right towards the edge of the platform.

“Woah—hang on there now!” Lucifer quickly reached out and wrapped his fingers around your wrists, tugging you back to the center of the stand. You blinked, slowing your heart beat, as you stared in surprise.

“Lucifer? How did you get up here?”

“I can fly, remember?” 

That’s right, he did have wings. You just didn’t think he was that fast with them. Lucifer had also completely ditched his hat and overcoat, instead he was in his red and white dress shirt, the sleeves rolled up to partially expose his forearms. 

His hair was slightly disheveled, no doubt from the flight up here. It wasn’t as slicked back as before, small strands of hair sticking out messily. You thought that was adorable.

Lucifer looked down, before smiling sheepishly and withdrawing his hand from your wrist. He brushed his fingers down your hand, his nails gently grazing against your palms.

This time, you didn’t feel the cool sensation from his gold ring against your skin, as his pinky lifted from your hand.

“Now, are you going to walk across that wire, or are you going to just give me back my apple?”

You met his eyes, his gaze playful as he smirked at you. He took a step closer, and you took a step back. Slowly, your heel hit the wire, and you halted. 

Lucifer watched you expectantly, waiting for you to make a move. He probably assumed you’d turn around to cross the wire, and he’d nab the apple from behind your back.

Too bad for the King of Hell, you could walk on a tightrope backwards. You winked at him, as your feet moved fully onto the wire. You pivoted slightly every so often, your body fluidly leaning back and forth as you adjusted for balance.

Lucifer watched you, admiration in his eyes as you maneuvered your way down the tightrope. You pulled the apple from behind you, teasing it in front of his view.

“The big question is, how do you think you’re going to best me in those heels, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer glanced down at his knee-high boots, before slowly peeling them off his feet. He placed them neatly to the side, before moving a foot to the wire.

He began to put his weight onto the tightrope, wobbling a little as he adjusted for balance. He definitely did not do this often, and you laughed softly at his failing posture.

Lucifer huffed, glancing at you, who was still moving a reasonable distance away from him. Then, a smirk played on his lips, and you saw forms begin to appear against his back. 

The red feathers of his wing’s underbelly began to glimmer in the light from the large windows behind you, as he slowly opened them to full length.

Six ethereal, majestic wings flapped gracefully behind him. They began to pivot slightly, adjusting for Lucifer’s balance much quicker and with ease.

“That is so dirty!” You laughed at him, shaking your head disapprovingly.

“Looks like I'm going to getcha!” He teased, as he began to take much more confident steps across the wire; his wings flapping softly, boosting his speed.

You took bigger, riskier steps as you closed in on the other platform. Your heartbeat racing from the challenge, adrenaline beginning to pump in your veins.

“What happens if I eat this apple?” You asked, holding up the apple to your nose, before taking a deep sniff. Licking your lips playfully, you glanced back up to Lucifer.

“A tummy ache, I'm afraid. But, hey, I'll trade you a caramel apple for that one.”

Your stomach grumbled at that, and you genuinely licked your lips at his words.

“I might consider that proposition, if you can catch up to me that is.”

You spun on your heel, facing the base of the pole, as you began to increase your pace.

It wasn’t until you felt the wire jerk under your feet, did you begin to wobble. With a hitched breath, you try to regain your balance, but to no avail.

Your foot slips, and you feel your body beginning to lean off too far to the side. Gasping in surprise, you flail your arms hoping to catch anything in your grip to stop your fall.

Right as you begin to free fall, you feel strong arms snake around yours and grip you firmly. 

“Hang on, I got you!” Lucifer practically spoke in your ear as he pulled you forward, back up onto the wire. You breathe heavily, clutching his forearms tightly as you lean in closer, catching your breath.

Large wings flapping stronger now, Lucifer held you close as you both balanced along the same small portion of the tightrope. You felt his hot breath on your face, and realized how close the two of you actually were.

Your chest was practically against his cute little bow-tie, your legs brushing against each other as you balanced on the tiny surface. The steady wing beats of the fallen angel sent wind softly grazing past your ears, cooling the heat that was beginning to creep onto your cheeks.

He was so close, and so fucking gorgeous. Forget what Alastor wanted to do, what you wanted to do was kiss this man silly. For months, you both danced at the edge of each other's hearts. Gifts of affection, words of compassion, the whole shebang. 

Yet, you’ve never looked the King in the eye and told him ‘I want you.’

Was it because you were stubbornly fighting against Alastor’s demands, that you even ignored your own true feelings? Just to spite the powerful cannibal?

Couldn’t you just look at a sexy man in peace, without anyone else watching your every move?

“Are you alright?” Lucifer asked after a moment, pulling you from your ogling.

“You saved me..” You finally breathed, eyes wide and you met his soft gaze.

“Of course I did, why wouldn’t I—”

Lucifer’s words caught in his mouth as you pressed your lips to his. He froze at the touch initially, but it only took a moment for his entire body to soften against yours. 

His hands found his way to your waist, and he pulled you flush against his body. Your fingers reached up, and you began to caress the sides of his face, twirling a few pieces of hair between your pinkies as you deepened the kiss.

The warmth that bloomed from his touch was intoxicating, your entire being craving for more as you leaned even farther into his embrace. 

His hands moved from your waist, until they brushed underneath your shirt. His palms coming up to cup the small of your back as he pressed you closer to him, as if worried you might dissipate into the air and leave him forever.

It was a good thing he had six wings to keep the two of you afloat, or else you would have been a splatter on the mats by now.

You felt Lucifer's teeth graze against your lip, and you had to fight to not bite his lip back. After a few more moments, you pulled away from his face, your breath coming out ragged as you gave him some distance. 

Lucifer blinked a few times, his eyebrows beginning to raise slowly as a dopey smile danced onto his lips.

“I really enjoyed that, but we should probably get on solid ground, don't you think?” He laughed breathlessly, his chest rising and falling rapidly as he looked at you adoringly.

You reached up, brushing the few loose strands out of his eyes, before nodding. “That is a good idea.” 

“Well, just hang on.” Lucifer replied with a mischievous grin, and you opened your mouth to question him. Before you could get a word out, you felt him begin to lean backwards, pulling you along with him. 

You yelped and squeezed your eyes shut, as you began to free fall on top of him. Lucifer only hugged you closer, before his wings shot open, slowing your descent. 

Carefully, you peeled your eyelids open to the two of you gliding softly down, as Lucifer circled the pole lazily. Your feet swung in the air, and the wind rushed past your ears. The adrenaline rush causing you to laugh in glee as you felt your feet hit a hard surface.

You both stood there in silence for a few moments, the weight of what just transpired finally settling on top of you. 

Holy shit, you just kissed the King of Hell! From trying to stay as far away from him, to getting as close as physically possible. What a twist.

“Well, now that we’re down here,” Lucifer began slowly, his gaze meeting yours with a playful roll of his eyebrows, “we could continue our previous.. discussion.” 

You almost obliged, until you heard the familiar call of Charlie, as she searched for her father. You tensed in his grip, before pulling away from his hold. A pout formed on Lucifer’s lips at the absence of your touch, before he straightened himself. 

Snapping his fingers, that familiar white overcoat magically materialized onto his figure, along with his wide brim hat. Your eyes landed onto that spot where the missing apple usually was, and then you noticed how empty both your hands were.

“Your apple! I think I dropped it when I almost fell.” You explain apologetically.

“Oh, you mean this apple?”

Lucifer pulled the red, gleaming trophy from beneath his overcoat. He threw it in the air a few times, catching it gracefully. A silent boast as he grinned at you. Your mouth only hung agape, as you scanned the apple for any imperfections.

“There is no way you took that from me! How do I know you didn’t just make that?”

“Woah! Sounds like someone is a sore loser.” Lucifer laughed, before turning towards the door, he kept his gaze on yours as he did so, walking backwards as he talked.

Slowly, you kept pace with him, shaking your head in disbelief at his words. He was just as preoccupied as you, sucking on your face, you couldn’t believe he actually took it from you in the chaos.

“At least we settled the little debate, hm? Seems like i’m better at these kinds of things than you. Just like I said.”

“We’ll definitely come back and test that theory with your wings bound this time.”

“Oh, will we? Is that a challenge?”

Lucifer halted at the doorway, and you stopped a few footsteps away. You batted your eyelashes at him, grinning playfully, “it’s a promise, actually.” 

He grinned at that, before he leaned in closer, curiosity gleaming in his eyes.

“So, you haven’t been avoiding me, then?” 

‘Not this again.’ You groaned internally.

“No, I haven’t. I’m sorry, I’ve just got a lot on my mind lately.” You quickly spoke, an apologetic look on your face. Would he buy your lie?

“And you’ll tell me when something is wrong, right?” 

You cracked him an assuring smile, “of course!” You lied through pearly-white teeth. 

Lucifer nodded approvingly at that, before he glanced out of the room. You both could hear Charlie a hallway or two away, and she seemed frantic to find her father. Lucifer only sighed, before turning to you.

“Looks like I’ll be seeing you real soon, Darling.” He promised, bowing his head slightly to you. You wanted to scold him for that, about lowering his head to someone of lower class, if he did that in public no doubt the citizens of Hell would mock him for it.

But, you weren’t in public. You were alone, with someone you cherished, able to whisper all your secrets, hopes, and dreams to someone you trusted most. If only you could tell him the truth, and not be stuck here drowning in your own lies.

Lucifer gave you one final glance, before he turned away, strolling through the hall away from your room. A happy whistle came from his lips, and you could hear it slowly fading as he moved away.

Backing up, you plopped down on a bench on the side of the room. The recent events hit you like a freight train, and you realized how terribly stupid you were.

How were you supposed to protect Lucifer from whatever plan Alastor had in store for him, if you were going to keep disregarding your brain for your weak little heart? 

Yes, Lucifer was the most powerful being in Hell, far more powerful than that red demon. But, he was also a sad, lonely angel. Who craved affection and attention, which he seemed to want solely from you and Charlie. 

If your life were in danger, would he be stupid and risk his own for you? He wouldn’t, he couldn’t. Your filthy, sinning soulless self wasn’t worth the trouble.

You just wish Lucifer would see that. 

For an hour, you paced the perimeter of the room. Your thoughts clear as you evaluated all the metaphorical cards in your hand. If Husk taught you anything about gambling, it was always to call your opponents bluff before he had a chance to do it to you.

Your feet halted suddenly, your heart beating rapidly in your chest as you stared through the large windows. Your thoughts settling as you watched the waning light.

You weren’t some pushover, some scared little child in need of protection. You weren’t going to let some murderous psychopath take any more control of your life. You were going to call the shots this time, even if that meant being dragged by the throat into that well.

As long as everyone you cared about, even Husker, made it out.

There was only one plan of action you saw ahead. And, it was not going to be the easy route.

“I’m done.” 

Alastor halted, the wall sconces in the hallway illuminating his sharp grin as he heard the words leave your lips. It had been four days since you decided you were going to stand against him.

“Pardon?” The words left his lips slowly, his head cracking in-humanely to one side, his ears twisting to face you. 

“I said I’m done deceiving for you. I’m not going to lie to Lucifer, or anyone else, for any longer.”

Alastor didn’t say anything, his back still turned to you. His claws tapped against his microphone, rhythmic and loud as he processed your words.

“Is that so?” 

“Yes, and I don’t care what you have to say about it. There’s more to the world than power, Alastor.”

You felt something cold tugging against your neck, that familiar, sickening sensation returning to your body. You sucked in a large breath, calming your rapid heartbeat. 

Green illuminated your face as you felt something heavy begin to weigh on your body. Alastor held one of his hands out, before flicking his wrist with a painful pop sound. 

The chain snapped forward from the collar around your throat, snaking around your figure as it wove to Alastor’s palm, its green glow casting eerie shadows against the walls. You struggled against its hold, feeling the cold, metallic links digging into your skin. Alastor's laughter echoed through the hallway, a chilling sound that sent shivers down your spine.

"You dare defy me?" Alastor's voice was low, dangerous. "You forget your place, little puppet."

Panic surged through you as you fought against the chain, but it only tightened its hold, squeezing the air from your lungs. You gasped for breath, your vision blurring as darkness threatened to consume you.

"Perhaps a reminder is in order," Alastor said, his tone dripping with malice. "A lesson in obedience."

“Don’t you have any more tricks in the book than this fucking chain?” You growled between gasps, the back of your head sliding against the floor as you twisted against its metal grasp. “C’mon Al, this is just embarrassing.”

Immediately, his face contorted into a look into a large, crooked smile. His eyes shifted to resemble radio dials, as he harshly yanked you towards him. Your cheek slid across the carpet, and you felt the sting of rug burn bloom across your face.

‘Don’t let him see you scared, don’t let him win.’ You begged yourself internally, as you held your tears back. 

Alastor’s face began to change, his features sharpening drastically, that crooked smile growing all the more larger. His antlers branched farther from his head, gnarling together in twisting designs above his ears. 

Even his hair began to stand on end, as he stalked closer to you. Shadows enveloped the hall, like a fog rolling in. Obscuring the sight of your eventual corpse, as Alastor wrapped the chain around his arm, keeping it taut as he closed in.

“The only embarrassment,” He started, his voice flickering into pure static at his rage, “will be how fast it takes for your s̴͔̓̌̍ç̵̯̮͍͆̿r̷̼̥̿̒̊̐e̸͙̣̯͛̽̒a̷͈̼͗ͅm̵̮͑͛͆s̴̻͊̽̑ to die on your t̸̝͓̆͌͝ö̷̻͚̩̎͊n̸̨̘̭͍̕g̵̱̝͍̈́͛̍ͅû̶̞̼̲͜é̴̺, when I rip your h̷̟̣͚̅̏̔̚͜ë̵̺͙́́a̶͉͙̤͆͋r̶̼̈́͝t̴͙̯̕ out of your throat.”

Archaic symbols danced your vision as Alastor’s entire body seemed to contort into jagged edges, his arms and legs doubling in length, as his hunched back hit the ceiling of the hallway. His crooked neck lowered, his head itching closer. One claw coming out to hook  underneath you collar, pulling you up by the neck. 

“What will our dear King do then, when he finds your mangled body on his front door?” 

You snarled, trying to tear away from his grip. How dare he still try and bring Lucifer into this, even when the fallen angel could pulverize him in an instant. Couldn’t he face you one to one? 

The Radio Demon’s eyes flickered a darker red, and you feel the collar begin to tighten around your throat, squeezing the breath from your airways. You gasped, tears pricking at your eyes as you clawed at your neck in a poor attempt to stop the sensation.

“Alastor? Is everything alright over there?” 

Suddenly, the squeezing at your throat dispersed like fog, as the collar and chain vanished into thin air. You were left on the floor, sputtering for breath, as Alastor quickly pivoted towards the voice. His body instantly shifted back to normal, with quiet pops and clicks as his joints squeezed back into place.

It was Vaggie, coming down the hall, her eye staring suspiciously at his shaded form. 

Clutching your bruising throat, you stumble onto your feet. Your back hits the wall, and you use it for support to catch your breath.

Alastor straightened his suit, his expression morphing into its usual grin as if nothing had happened. “Oh, everything’s just dandy, Vaggie. Just having a delightful little chat with our friend here.” He gestured casually toward you, his tone dripping with false cheerfulness. “Isn’t that right?” He raised an eyebrow, his eyes glinting with an unknown expression.

“Yeah—cough—sorry, just choked on the water I was drinking.”

“Right. Listen, Alastor, I wanted to talk to you in private. If that’s okay with you.” Vaggie said, gesturing down the hall.

“Of course, it’s always a pleasure speaking with you, my dear!” You didn’t miss the way Alastor’s eye twitched, as if he was not thrilled about having to leave. But, he was deceiving everyone else, too. Which meant he had to play his little part to a T.

“I’m just.. going to go. I’m not feeling so well.” You muttered to the pair, before darting around the corner, out of sight. 

You ran to your room, slamming your door behind you. Your back hit its frame, before slowly sliding down until your bottom hit the carpet. Tears of anger flowed down your cheeks, as you continued to rub your neck.

Fuck. Why were you so powerless?! If only you had even a sliver of magic in you, you could have defied him better. Now, what was Alastor going to do? 

‘What did you expect?’ A part of your mind hissed scoldingly, ‘You just tried to fight the demon that owns your soul, and got your ass handed to you.’

You growled, rising to your feet. Frustration, sadness, pain, everything seeped out of you, and you felt like killing someone in that moment.

“It’s better—”

You picked up a spare shoe from the ground, your nails digging into it as you bared your teeth. Swinging it behind you, you vaulted it towards the opposite wall.

“—than doing nothing at all!” 

You heard glass shattering, and watched shards spill from the mirror above your dresser. You could see your face, partially obscured in its remaining reflection. You could see the slight purple marks around your neck, see the tears spilling from your cheeks.. see that dark look on your features, like you actually would kill somebody.

Reeling back, you placed your knuckles to your lips. Maybe, to stop that lip from quivering so violently. That face in the mirror reminded you of everything you hated about this wretched place.

And, now, you were becoming just like him. You stepped backwards, trying to distance yourself from the reflection, before the back of your legs hit the side of your bed, and you sank into the mattress. You wrapped your arms around your knees, curling into a ball as you sobbed the frustration out of you.

You could still feel the dark magic sizzling against your neck, as if it refused to release you of its hold just yet.

It wasn’t until you heard soft rapping of knuckles against glass did you lift your head. Turning towards the balcony doors, your eyes widen at the sight of the familiar figure standing outside. His silhouette illuminated by the dark red hues of the evening light, as he waved through the frosted glass.

“I see you over there! Can you let me in for a moment?” 

What was Lucifer doing here?! This was terrible timing for him to make an appearance! But, he knows you're there, can see your silhouette through the glass as you sit there on the bed. You sighed, quickly cleaning your face of tears, and taking a few deep breaths.

“Come in.” You called hoarsely, cracking the best smile you could muster.

The glass doors slowly pushed out of them, and Lucifer quietly shimmied through the cracks. He pivoted to face you, a large smile on his lips as he squinted at you through the darkness of your room.

“I’m so glad you’re here, I was just about to leave and then I remembered I never gave you your caramel apple!” 

Lucifer began to stroll forward, your face becoming less obscured in the shadows as he closed in. You tried to shrink away slightly, turning your knees away from him so he couldn’t see them quivering slightly.

“I put a layer of chocolate on it too, and so—wait, why are you crying?” His gaze intensified, as your face finally illuminated in the light.

“I-it’s nothing! I just had something in my eye!” You lied, cracking a wider smile.

“What are those marks on your neck?” Lucifer ignored your excuse, as he stalked closer to you. His eyes constantly scanning your figure looking for any more oddities. 

“Please, Lucifer.. I’m just tired and-”

“What is this?”

Lucifer had asked, his pupils dilated, trained on something against your throat. Something more than the small purple marks.

You began to rub your thumbs together in a soothing motion as you watched him move closer to you. Gulping, you parted your lips to speak.

You didn’t get a chance to say anything, before his hand gingerly lifted towards you. His nail grazed against your collarbone, and heat blossomed underneath your skin from his touch. 

‘Please, just stop here,’ you silently begged, eyes squeezing shut as his finger rested against your figure, ‘don’t ruin this moment by digging any farther.’

Your reaction only spurred him, however. Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his pupils thin slits now as he watched you.

Slowly, his finger trailed upward, skin brushing softly against yours as he traced the invisible force only a powerful demon could see. Your heart beat rapidly in your chest, every movement of his only quickening its pace. 

Until his hand stopped, right in the middle of your neck, and you felt a sizzling against your skin. The heat was becoming too much, and you wanted to pull away from his touch. You didn’t, instead, you tensed, deathly still before him.

A soft golden light illuminated from Lucifer’s palm, as his fingers wrapped around an invisible object. A shadow formed in his grip, and he tugged at it, that glow in his palm growing stronger.

Backing away, he yanked a long, thin chain from your figure, as if trying to free you of a parasite that found a home deep in your bones. As he stepped backwards, it only dragged across the floor, still connected to your neck as it lengthened.

A thick, metal collar snuggly encompassed your throat. The chain locked tightly against it, a vivid reminder of your poor decisions.

Lucifer’s palm slid across the cold, metal links. Eldritch magic seeped from its form in the shroud of thick fog. Archaic symbols danced at the edge of your vision as its glow illuminated Lucifer’s unreadable expression.

The chain was a sickly green, its harsh glow an annoyance to his eyes. It was embedded with a dark, chilling magic. Whispers of untold horrors and ancient curses coiling around you, promises of a fate worse than death. 

Lucifer could practically smell it, that red demon's aura as it encircled around your frame. A twisted signature, practically scrawled across your forehead like a stamp of ownership.

Oh, the audacity of a person to take such a kind soul and rip it away from its owner. 

You weren’t some dog to be beckoned at the flick of a wrist. You were so much more than that, you deserved so much more than that. 

Yet here you were, the clasp around your neck like a shadowed hand, softly squeezing the life out of your eyes. He could see it, clear as day.

Small, white horns protruded from his head as he clenched the chain tighter. He tugged it once, twice, as if testing its durability. You leaned back slightly, the chain becoming taught between the two of you.

That collar around your throat kept you locked in place, as you watched him turn the chain in his hands. For a moment, Lucifer’s figure melded into the horrid shadow of your owner, and your eyes widened in fear at your delusion.

You could see it, feel it. Your stomach brushing the stained carpet beneath you with that haunting figure bent in a sickly, twisted angle in front you. That chain wrapped around the radio demon’s hand as he threatened you with terrible acts if you failed to stay in line.

Seeing your face contort into pained anguish only caused him to bare his teeth slightly, the sharp edges glinting in the light.

Seeing it so deeply entwined with your very being only further spurred the king’s anger. It seeped quietly from him, his grip tight against the chains as if trying to snap them with his bare hands.

“Who did this?” He hissed, his gaze boring into yours. He wanted to hear you say that demon’s name, wanted to hear you confirm the truth that was so obvious in front of him. 

You knew he wasn’t angry at you, but still you bowed your head slightly. Averting your gaze from his pleading eyes, shame slowly clawing at your stomach. For a moment, you felt like throwing up. Wanting to rid yourself of the terrible feeling that was seeping into your skin.

You felt like crying, or throwing yourself into his arms. Wanting to melt into his hold, and be told again and again that everything would be alright. That the most powerful man in hell would come to your rescue.

But, deals that bartered in souls are a much more difficult magic to conquer.

Fighting the urge to collapse into his embrace, you steeled yourself. Hands planted against your knees, back straight in a pathetic attempt to have some kind of power in this moment. 

Your eyes sullenly traced across the harsh links of the chain, its form all too familiar by now. Yet, it still caused such grief in your bones no matter how many times you looked upon it over the years.

Slowly, your eyes shifted to meet his gaze. Your lips curved into a frown at his expression, and your predicament.

How were you supposed to tell the love of your life your soul didn’t belong to you? That you were trapped in a deal of your own making? 

Curse that little fine line in your deal that kept your mouth sealed shut, that prevented you from uttering his name.

“I-I..” You desperately tried to speak, to tell him the truth, but that invisible hand that pulled at your tongue forced your silence. Tears pricked at your eyes, the desperation in them evident as your attempts to explain only died behind those pretty lips of yours.

As your mouth shut in frustration, Lucifer’s anger only heightened. His eyes flared into a blood-red glow, a harsh change from that soft yellow radiance you often found yourself lost in.

He pivoted harshly away, his voice contorting into a snarl as he stalked out of the room. His overcoat appeared atop his shoulders, and it swished behind him as he moved. 

Lucifer’s thoughts were too tangled with the images of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

The tears that had threatened to spill finally rolled down your cheeks, your lip quivering as your eyes lingered on the doorway he had just exited. His thoughts too mangled with the image of his claws wrapping around the deal-makers throat to sit there and console you.

Placing your face into your hands, you sobbed quietly. 

Oh, how that regret had begun to consume you as you continued to wallow in your self-pity. 

Regret, for thinking that giving away your soul was a simple feat. That somehow, you’d still be happy after the fact. 

Regret, for falling in love when you knew the deal that kept you to that deer demon’s side would never allow you to enjoy such a fleeting emotion. No matter how hard you clawed to Lucifer’s soft embrace, that chain would always be there to drag you back. 

Those soft whispers of affections, of promises you couldn’t keep. Knowing, one day, that constant-smiling demon could play his little games and tear you away from your lover’s hold forever.

Oh, what a lovestruck idiot you are. 

Lucifer’s feet carried him back to the lobby, his eyes glowing as he noticed the cat-demon, Husk, cleaning glasses behind the bar. He sharply turned in his direction, surely, this other being 

“You, bartender.” Lucifer hissed, as he lifted himself up onto the barstool, crossing one leg over the other. Acting as if only wanting to have a friendly chat with the demon. His claws extended slightly, as they tapped impatiently against the countertop. 

Husker looked up from the glass in his hands, his eyes bored and his mouth a thin line as he worked. It wasn’t until he saw Lucifer’s deadly expression did he drop the glass immediately, ears slightly pinned to his head, before straightening his back to address the king.

“I-uh, how can I help you, Your Majesty?” 

Lucifer’s lips upturned into a lopsided grin, those sharp teeth on full display. That’s right, some people have to remember exactly who they are dealing with.

“Where is your master?”

Husk paused, regarding Lucifer for a moment with an eyebrow raised. He was very aware of the tension between the two powerful demons, but he didn’t expect the King of Hell would go looking for Alastor.

“I’m not sure, sir. You could bring it up with Charlie when she gets back, I’m sure she knows more than little ol’ me.” 

Lucifer grimaced slightly at that. Of all the people in the hotel, his daughter was the last one he’d want to bring into this whole debacle.

“There’s got to be something you must know, bartender. He owns your soul too, does he not?”

“What, you think I keep track of the guy or something?” 

“No, but you should,” Lucifer snarled, leaning over the counter, causing Husk to reel back slightly, “it’s clear no one here keeps eyes on that filth, enough to stop him from hurting people in this very hotel.”

Husk seemed to deflate at that. Those long, feathery eyebrows of his lowering slightly as an unreadable expression crossed his face. He set the glass down, before sharply turning away from Lucifer.

“He’s usually in his room, by now,” Husk spoke quietly after a moment, “down the left hall, last door on the right. Ya can’t miss it.”

Lucifer didn’t give thanks, instead he tapped his cane at his side, and golden waves circled around him. In an instant, the King was gone, a few pieces of gold dust landing softly against the barstool. 

“Asshole.” Husk muttered, before popping open a bottle of liquor and lifting it to his lips.

Lucifer opened his eyes to see a large door in front of his face, green symbols glittered against its frame, etched into the wood with practiced precision.

Only Lucifer could see them, though. Only powerful wielders of such a force could see these runes. Magical spells, cast upon the room. Protection, defense, muffling, everything an evil guy could dream of.

Although, the demon’s magic was strange. Unfamiler, even. Seems like he’s been dabbling in a new form of sorcery.

Lucifer stood there, for a few moments. He didn’t knock at the door, or jiggle the handle. The Radio Demon was not the one in control here, so he simply waited impatiently for an answer.

“I know you’re in there, you rat.” Lucifer hissed, the horns poking from his head continuing to rise. “I know you can hear me. Why don’t you do us both a favor and show yourself, or are you too much of a coward now?” 

Slowly, the door to Alastor’s room creaked open. The interior obscured by thick shadows, with soft lights flickering from the edges of the room as Lucifer continued to stand there.

“Your Majesty!” A cheerful voice called from the shadows of the room, and Lucifer bared his teeth at the tone. “What an honor to have someone like you gracing my presence. Please, come in!”

Lifting his head high again, Lucifer took a confident step into the room. He had every right to be, even in the demon’s own abode, the King’s powers were unmatched. 

Lucifer’s lips curled into a sneer at the saccharine greeting. “Save the pleasantries, rat. We both know why I’m here.”

As Lucifer stepped further into the room, the door behind him remained wide open, the light from the hallway illuminating the King’s figure. Alastor’s silhouette still danced within the shadows, the glow of his red eyes illuminating the space as he carefully followed the King’s movements.

“Ah, but do we really, Your Majesty? Enlighten me.”

Lucifer’s eyes narrowed, his patience wearing thin. “You have an uncanny knack to create suffering with everything you touch. Now, you pull the strings of innocent lives. Do you thirst for power that fucking badly, to make a deal for someone’s soul?”

“They made a deal on their own whim,” Alastor retorted, waving his hands in a sweeping motion, brushing off the accusation, “How could I say no to such an offer? I’m a demon, if you can recall.”

The lights in the room began to flicker with renewed life, and Alastor’s sharp grin only made the fallen angel want to tear it from his face.

“Demons like you deserve to be ground into dust.” Lucifer snarled, closing the distance between the two. He lifted his head, meeting Alastor’s piercing gaze. His claws wrapped around the Radio Demon’s black bow tie, and he harshly tugged him down to his eye level.

Alastor stared at the grip with a deathly silence, his face contorting into sharper features, his pupils taking the dialed form once more. 

Energy crackled in the room, a mix of both demon’s powers as the tension only continued to escalate. Alastor didn’t move from the hold, he knew better than to test that fate. 

The lines above Lucifer’s lips scrunching as he stared at the demon with disgust. “You steal the souls of those weaker than you to fill that emptiness in your own, it’s pathetic.”

“Maybe.” Alastor shrugged nonchalantly, before a green spark sizzled against his bow-tie, and it limply fell from his clothing in Lucifer grip. He turned away, stalking towards the cutting board on the counter.

“Don’t walk away from me, you freak. Lest I do everyone in this hotel a favor and remove you from existence right here.”

A dark chuckle bounced against the walls, filling the room as Alastor kept his back to Lucifer. “Ah, but if you kill me, they die too. Souls entwined with each other, you see. Such a dilemma, wouldn’t you say?”

Lucifer gritted his teeth, cursing his oversight. “Shit,” he muttered under his breath.

Alastor’s voice took on a sly tone. “But fear not, Your Majesty. I’m not without mercy. I understand the affection you hold for such a.. charming demon.”

Lucifer’s gaze hardened, suspicion clouding his features. “What do you want?”

“Why don’t we.. make a d̴̻͉̺̆è̴̛͎̟̖̻͐a̵̭̫͆͆̽l̸͓͍̽̆̀̕?” Alastor’s tone crackled with static, as he spun to face the fallen angel. His head tilting curiously to one side, watching Lucifer’s expression.

Lucifer laughed, an audible ha-ha as the words left Alastor’s lips. He twisted his cane between his fingers, his claws leaving small etched lines trailing behind his movements.

“A deal with you? Do you actually expect me to give you my soul?”

Alastor’s grin widened, his eyes gleaming with mischief. “Oh, not your soul, silly! It’s nothing too extravagant. Just a little exchange of power. After all, what’s a deal between demons?”

“And, what exactly does this deal entail?”

Alastor paused for a moment, his intense gaze never leaving. “I have.. a few affairs I never got to settle when I died. I’d like to be able to return to that filthy place, whenever and wherever I want.”

“That’s it?” Lucifer asked in disbelief, his head leaning back slightly as he processed the demon’s words. “You want access to the human realm? You’re standing before the King of Hell! Why not simply ask for my title?”

Damnit, Lucifer, is it really the time to get your pride twisted?

“Oh, I couldn’t be bothered to bare such responsibilities of a king. I’d take your strength in a heartbeat though, but we both know you aren’t powerful enough to bless me with such a gift.”

The mockery in Alastor’s tone of the fallen angels' lack of heavenly abilities, spurred Lucifer. Who’s horns were fully out for view now, that small fire licking hungrily between them.

“Well? What is it going to be, Your Majesty?” Alastor hummed, his nails clicking against the countertop. “Do you want their soul or not?”

A demon like Alastor, being granted the ability to leap from the realms? It was much different than giving Amsodueus’ little spawns access via that orange crystal, who didn’t hold the kind of magic the demon before him did. 

What would he do when he was up there? Steal more souls? Go on a slaughter spree? There was no telling with the twisted man before him.

But… it was Heaven’s problem. Wasn’t it? It was them who cast Lucifer away from the place he helped create, and now it was their job to clean up the messes.

“Why would you give me something of such value for something like that?” Lucifer asked after a  moment.

“Because your little lover is a deep pain in my side, always disrespecting and challenging my words. If it wasn’t for that silver tongue of theirs, I’d have killed them ages ago.”

Lucifer growled, golden flames dancing on his fingertips at Alastor’s words. 

“They also don’t have any value. No power, no status, just a beggar on the street when I found them all those years ago. You could say I only made such a deal because I pitied their pathetic existence.”

‘If this guy keeps talking, I might just have to kill him.’

Time stood still in that room for a moment, the ending of the song playing from the radio the only indicator that the realm was still moving around them.

“I’m waiting~” Alastor sung, both demons locking eyes with each other across the room instensly.

As Lucifer weighed the consequences, a firm line set on his lips as he nodded. "Very well, Alastor," he said, extending a hand towards the demon. "We have a deal."

Their hands met in a firm shake, and as their fingers intertwined, a surge of dark energy crackled between them. Wisps of shadow and flame danced around their clasped hands, swirling around the duo.

Alastor was lost in a maniacal fit of laughter, as large eyes and symbols danced around him. That smile on his lips changed, as lines of thread locking his teeth together, as if someone had forcefully stitched that grin in place.

The air itself seemed to tremble with the force of their agreement, and the room pulsed with an otherworldly energy. The very fabric of reality seemed to warp and bend around them as the terms of their pact solidified.

Suddenly, you burst into the room, your eyes widening in fear as you saw the two demon’s hands entwined. You placed a hand to your mouth in shock, as you realized exactly what they were doing.

“Oh, no no no NO!” You cried hoarsely against the loud rushing wind, pushing you against the wall. What kind of deal was Lucifer making?! 

With a final burst of darkness, the pact was sealed, and both demons drew back. Alastor’s eyes gleamed with newfound power. His aura crackled with renewed strength, and the demon’s grin widened with satisfaction.

His eyes landed on you, a twisted smirk on his lips as he vanished in a plume of smoke. The intensity of it causing your eyes to water, and to fall into a fit of coughs.

The echoes of their agreement lingered in the air in a mixture of green and gold sparks of energy. Lucifer stood alone in the room, before he took a step backwards, stumbling slightly as you reached him. 

Taking his arm, you yank him out of the room, into the hallway. You scan over his figure, your heartbeat quickening as you search for any kind of injuries.

“What did you do? You didn’t make a deal for your soul, did you?!” You cried in panic, your hands on both sides of Lucifer’s face as he blinked away the fog from behind his eyes.

“Of course, I didn’t.” Lucifer muttered between your palms, “I simply gave him some power that he can go fuck off with for the rest of eternity.”

“But.. he c-could—oh, why would you do that?! That was so stupi—”

Lucifer quickly wrapped his fingers around your forearms, shaking you gently to get you to look at him. The slits of his pupils trained intently on your look of distraught.

“For you!” He growled, and you slammed your mouth shut. His breath was ragged, his lips downturned into a painful frown as he watched your lip begin to quiver.

“I made a deal to exchange your soul for a little power, because I cannot bare seeing you suffer any longer. Do you get that? I walked into your bedroom, to find you bruised and in tears. Over what, spilled milk?!”

“I can take it, I've been taking it.” You cried, arms shaking as you fidgeted in his hold. Shame clawing at your throat. Why did you have to be so fucking useless when it came to things like this?

“No! Stop that. Stop lying to me! That ‘everything is fine and dandy’, when it’s not. I’m the goddamn King of Hell, and I can’t even protect you because you refuse to let anyone prove that you matter.”

Lucifer squeezed his eyes shut, head leaning into your shoulder as he took a deep breath. Your scent easing his anger slowly as he sunk into your embrace.

“You matter so much to me, you and Charlie. If I have to make a deal with a douchebag like him, to save your soul, then so be it. I don’t care what he takes from me.” 

Tears spilled from your cheeks, and you wrapped your arms around his neck. You both fell to your knees, and it was your turn to lean into his embrace. Your shoulders shook as you sobbed into his chest.

You were finally free from that monster. He couldn’t hurt you anymore, couldn’t lay a finger on you without consequence. Yet, your tears were also of sadness. You had tried so hard to prevent this, to prevent Lucifer from being selfless and allowing Alastor to win. 

You felt hands gently rubbing at your back, a soothing motion that quelled your quivering figure slightly. It was so warm, like laying in front of a lively fireplace. You wanted to stay there forever.

You were so tired. The mental exhaustion that had been plaguing your mind all these months finally slamming into you, and you lay there limp against his embrace.

“Please.. please don’t cry. I love you, I love you.” Lucifer whispered softly, his voice cracking as he pulled you deeper into his hold. He kept repeating those words, ‘I love you’, as he placed soft kisses against your forehead.

You felt the soft touch of feathers graze against your ears, and cracked open an eye to see Lucifer’s wings engulfing the both of you. They nestled into you, rubbing against your cheek softly, lulling you into a sleepy daze.

“I’ve got you, I promise.” Lucifer whispered into your ear. “You’re safe, you’re loved, I'm so sorry.” 

You placed a soft kiss to his collarbone, and snuggled deeper into his chest. Thankfully, no one was around to bother the two of you as you sat on the floor in the hall.

Just five minutes. That’s all you needed, five minutes basking in his warmth, in his soft words of affection. Five minutes to promise yourself you’d never let him do something like this again.

And maybe, everything would be alright. 

you guys 😭 i made sure this fic was cooked, damnit!! A little more fast-paced than usual, but I hope you can forgive me for that. i also could not settle on what kind of deal alastor wanted to make, so i blind drew out of a hat. i just wanted to bring in a little drama, and it’s hard when one of them is can be easily bodied haha

i honestly have to stop telling yall how long I think my fics will be bc i said “oh i want this to be as long as artist!reader pt. 4”, yet it’s roughly 6-7k over it someone kill me

let me know what you think 🫶

[Lucifer] taglist: @ohnoivefallen @doodlebob2726 @coleisyn @loslox @sukxma @undertale-is-sansational @nehy019 @mixplara @chewbrry @yellowsubiesdance @airwolf92 @laurenlaurie @lxkeee @jellybellyrulez @catnoirsleftnut @mbruben-stein @mint129106 @froggybich @moonlovers34 @just-trash-yeah-thats-it @lil-bexie @lowkeyhottho @wings-of-sapphire @the-tortured-poet @enigmatic-blues @bethleeham @blue122 @cherry-4200 @azullynx @luzzbuzz @for-hearthand-home

[oneshotnewbie]

Hello! I was wondering if you're taking requests, specifically for Athena Grant? If so, please could you write something about:

Reader and Athena are together (engaged) and the reader gets injured (either accidently/someone intentionally hurt) and they've had to remove all the jewelry before surgery, so when the reader wakes up, she's panicking about how she's lost her engagement ring (half still under anesthesia and half boasting to the nurses) until Athena gets there and puts the ring back on her finger again? Like re-proposing in front of the team?

⚠️Trigger Warning⚠️ This one-shot includes the topic of a serious accident, blood, conversations about possible death and the plots are presented. If this triggers you too easily or you just can´t handle the subject, I urge you NOT to read this work. I am NOT embellishing this topic under any circumstance. Read at your own risk.

ᕚ---ᕘ

You leaned against the rolling doors of the fire station as the sun slowly sank behind the skyscrapers of Los Angeles. Daily life at the station was chaotic, as always - the hum of voices and the heavy clatter of equipment filled the air. The icy cold air left an uncomfortable tingling sensation on your skin, a coldness that you couldn't shake off despite the fleece jacket over your shoulders.

Since your engagement to Athena, you had become strangely calmer, your once impetuous nature had changed. But this uneasy silence that this evening brought with it made you nervous. Your finger unconsciously stroked the shiny ring on your hand - a symbol of love, the promise of a shared future that you had given each other.

"Y/n, are you okay?" Hen asked, putting a hand on your shoulder while she cast a worried look at you. "Are you unsure about... the engagement?"

"Oh my God, no Hen. I could never be unsure about Athena. It just feels so... unreal," you replied with a gentle smile as you looked at her while pushing yourself away from the wall. "It is a.. magical feeling and I'm so incredibly happy."

Hen smiled broadly at you and before she could answer you, a shrill alarm sounded, echoing through the walls of the building. The adrenaline immediately shot through your body, your muscles tensed, and the moment of calm was over. It was time for action.

"A serious accident on a construction site in the west of downtown! Several injured, unclear situation, possible danger of collapse!" the announcement echoed over the loudspeakers.

Hen and you exchanged a brief, wordless glance - the mixture of concern and determination in your eyes was unmistakable. You walked quickly together towards the ambulance while the rest of the team jumped into the fire trucks. The engines roared as you left the station in a moment when the air seemed to stand still before the chaos began.

The streets of Los Angeles were packed, but the car's sirens cut through the traffic like a knife. You felt the familiar thrill of adrenaline rising inside you. But today it felt different. Every sound seemed sharper, the movements around you faster - as if the world around you was vibrating with tension. You tried to focus your thoughts, but your eyes kept wandering to the shiny ring on your finger. You couldn't shake the wonderful thought that you would soon be a Grant.

When you finally arrived at the construction site, the extent of the disaster was immediately apparent. A gigantic construction site, filled with half-built buildings, cranes towering into the sky, and workers everywhere, panicking and trying to make their way out of the rubble. The scene was a nightmare: steel beams had collapsed, concrete slabs had been shattered, machinery was blocking access roads, and dust hung thick in the air, as if the entire construction site had been shaken by a major earthquake.

Hen and Chimney jumped out of the car and immediately ran to the injured, while you turned your gaze to the half-collapsed part of the construction site, where the cause of the chaos seemed to be. Sparks flew from a stationary smaller crane that was leaning dangerously to the side and threatened to fall onto the scaffolding below.

You immediately ran, your mind on autopilot. It was clear that this situation was life-threatening but this was your job and you would stop at nothing. The crane had to be stabilized before more people were injured. A team of construction workers tried desperately to secure the heavy equipment with steel cables, but it was obvious that their efforts would not be enough. Sweat ran down their foreheads as they frantically shouted orders to the rest of your team, but time was running out.

"Damn, if that thing falls, it'll kill even more people," you cursed inwardly as you ran and grabbed one of the heavy steel cables, trying to help the workers stabilize the machine before Bobby and the others found a solution.

But the situation quickly escalated. A worker, obviously inexperienced and panicked, began to frantically pull on one of the control levers, ignoring the dangerous weight of the wooden beams moving above him. But before Bobby, Eddie or anyone else could intervene, there was a loud crack that made your blood run cold. You looked up - a massive wooden beam finally came loose and fell towards you without stopping.

Everything happened in a split second. The beam crashed down with a deafening roar and hit you with full force. You felt a sharp, piercing pain as the wood hit your body, as if your entire ribcage was being crushed. Your breath was ripped from your lungs, and you could feel the burning pain flooding your body. The sound of bones breaking echoed in your ears, accompanied by the dull thud as your body hit the ground with full force.

You wanted to scream, but no sound came. You lay under the heavy weight, unable to move, and could feel your consciousness slowly fading. Your head spun, and the pounding of your own heartbeat became duller as the blood from the wound in the side of your torso dripped onto the ground at an alarming rate. Your vision blurred, and the sounds around you became quieter. You knew you were losing control.

The world around you began to blur, but the last thing you consciously perceived was a terrified scream from Hen.

She saw it happen as if time itself was slowing down. The massive beam fell as if in slow motion, and even though Hen knew there was nothing she could do, she felt an indescribable feeling of powerlessness. She had promised her best friend, Athena, that she would look after you during missions. "Y/n! No!" she screamed as she ran across the rubble. Her voice was rough and broken, the shock almost paralyzing her.

Chimney, who had also witnessed the accident, was already at her side, grabbing his emergency backpack with shaking fingers. The sight of you lying motionless under the beam made his heart race. You weren't just a colleague, you were family. The unit was a family, and when one of them fell, everyone felt it.

Hen knelt down next to your head and felt desperately for a pulse. The blood loss was frightening, her fingers immediately soaked by the warm, sticky blood that was constantly seeping from the wound. Hen's heart was racing. She had to keep a clear head, but it was difficult. Chimney worked frantically beside her, trying to put pressure on the wound, but it was clear that the injury was serious. Too serious.

Meanwhile, the others tried to keep the gathering crowd under control while securing the other wooden beams to avoid another accident.

"We're losing her!" Chimney shouted, his voice hot with panic as he performed the makeshift wound care. Hen felt her hands shaking as she reached for the equipment, but she forced herself to calm down. There could be no mistakes. Not now.

"She's strong, no one loses anyone here," Hen whispered, more to herself than to Chimney. The sight of your lifeless body made Hen dizzy. Your chest barely heaved and your face was pale and lifeless, as if the life was draining out of you.

The two worked feverishly. Their hands slid confidently over the injured flesh as they tried to stop the blood seeping from the gaping wounds. The world around them seemed to stand still and all that mattered now was the person in front of them - their colleague. Their friend. Their family.

"Chim, we have to get her out of here. If we don't stabilize her, we'll lose her!" Hen shouted, trying to keep the panic from her voice. Each breath you took was weak, as if the next one might be your last.

"Damn it, Hen, the girder is sitting right on her chest. Bobby, you have to lift the girder! She'll bleed to death otherwise!" Chimney answered hastily, as he secured the pressure bandage to the worst part of your injury. The massive wooden beam had hit you hard, and it was a miracle you were still alive. But for how much longer? Chimney's gaze was fixed on the growing pool of blood beneath his knees.

Bobby, Buck, and Eddy were no time in coming. Each of them knew that time was now their enemy. Buck and Eddie immediately began to position themselves at the respective ends of the girder, while Bobby took the lead and stood over you.

"Okay, everyone ready? On my command! One... two... THREE!" he shouted as everyone lifted at the same time to take the weight off you. The wood cracked under the pressure, and for a moment it looked like they wouldn't make it. But with one last, desperate tug, they lifted it just high enough for Chimney to pull you out.

You were almost unconscious, pale as death. Hen looked at her best friend's bloody, limp face and felt her heart sink. This wasn't just any mission. "Stay with us, y/n," she whispered as Chimney carefully lifted you onto a stretcher.

Bobby quickly put an oxygen mask on you while Chimney applied pressure to the wound with one hand and monitored your heart rate with the other. The situation was critical and the team knew that every second counted. Without hesitation, they pushed the stretcher into the ambulance while Buck closed the doors and ran to the fire truck.

"Hen, Chim, we're right behind you," Bobby called before the doors slammed shut and the ambulance sped off, sirens blaring.

The ambulance sped through the streets of Los Angeles, the sirens piercing the night like the howl of a wounded animal. The city lights blurred into a bright kaleidoscope as the two paramedics inside the car raced against time.

Hen drove the ambulance while Chimney worked feverishly to keep the blood flowing. The oxygen mask over your face was a thin thread holding you to this life. The heart rate on the monitor was faint, and every second that passed felt like an eternity.

"Come on, come on..." he muttered to himself as he applied another pressure bandage over the one already soaked in blood. His latex gloves were red with blood, and his eyes were extremely tense. "We're losing her, Hen. The pressure is off."

Hen pressed her lips together, fighting the fear that threatened to overwhelm her. "Not now. Not here. Not her. We're almost there, keep her alive!"

The ambulance arrived at the hospital minutes later with screeching tires, and the team jumped out, the stretcher with you in the middle. You were immediately surrounded by a team of emergency doctors who moved their bodies like machines, every grip precise, every action practiced.

"Severe chest trauma, internal bleeding! She's losing a lot of!" Hen shouted after the doctors as they quickly pushed you through the hospital doors. Hen and Chimney followed them, both with their eyes downcast and faces covered in sweat.

The rest of the team also watched as you were pushed down the hallway towards the operating rooms and then the moment came when they disappeared around the corner with you and the team was left alone in a state of confusion, concern, hope and fear. In that moment it felt like the air was being sucked out of the hallway they stood in.

ᕚ---ᕘ

Athena stormed through the hospital corridors, her heart pounding wildly in her chest. She could hear her own blood rushing in her ears, her thoughts swirling in a chaotic vortex of fear, worry and hopelessness. Bobby had called her shortly after arriving at the hospital, and his words echoed in her head as if they were caught on an endless loop: "It's serious. It's serious."

She reached the emergency room and immediately saw the familiar faces of her friends and colleagues. Bobby was the first to step forward to greet her, his face worried but calm. "Athena..." he began, but she didn't let him finish. "Where is she?" Athena whispered, her voice breaking as she looked around. Her eyes wandered frantically through the sterile, brightly lit hospital corridor until they finally settled on Hen. The paramedic stood with her arms crossed, her shoulders slumped forward, looking exhausted and full of grief.

She stepped forward and put a hand on Athena's shoulder, but she felt that words could not bring comfort here. The pain, the fear, the agonizing wait - all of this weighed heavily on Athena. "She's in the operating room. They're fighting... but it doesn't look good," she said carefully in a quiet voice. Her eyes were tired, the minutes of her colleague's blood loss and the constant tension for her life had left their mark on her too.

"Not good?" Athena shook her head in disbelief, as if she couldn't believe these words. She felt an uncontrollable tremor running through her body that she could barely suppress and the walls seemed to close in around her.

"What does that mean, Hen? Are you going to tell me that she might not make it?" Her voice had gotten louder, almost panicked. Bobby, who was standing next to them, held out his hand reassuringly, but Athena backed away. She needed answers, not pity.

"Athena, we don't know," Hen said carefully, her eyes full of compassion. "She has severe internal injuries and the bleeding was extremely critical. But she's in the best hospital, with the best doctors. They're doing everything they can."

But those words were only a small consolation for her. The worry about you weighed heavily on her chest, and she felt helpless. She wanted to be with you, wanted to hold your hand, to tell you that you should fight and not give up. But all she could do now was stand here and wait. Wait while fate decided the life of the woman she loved.

Athena nodded silently, although inside she wanted to scream. She had to pull herself together, not collapse. "At least tell me that she can feel it... that she knows that I'm here," she finally said, directing her words at her best friend.

"Athena, if anyone can do it, it's y/n. She's a fighter. And she'll know you're here, no matter what."

While the entire team waited, the team of surgeons and nurses fought for your survival. The sterile, cool air in the room was filled with frantic, precise movements. The lead surgeon wiped sweat from his brow as he made another deep cut to find the source of the bleeding

"We've stabilized her, but the blood loss is still concerning. Should we add another unit of blood?" one of the nurses asked as she readjusted the oxygen mask and checked the heart rate on the monitor. Each beat of your heart was weak, almost imperceptible.

"Yes, please. Several ribs are broken, internal organ damage. We need to decompress the left lung," he murmured, handling his instruments more tensely than usual. His hands moved in a routine manner.

One of the nurses, meanwhile, took care of the jewelry that remained on your body. The engagement ring on your finger shimmered in the cold operating room light, a tiny spark in the midst of the fight for life and death. With gentle movements, the nurse removed the ring from your blood-stained hand and carefully placed it in a bowl, along with a chain that had been hidden under your uniform, to later clean these items and hand them over to you as soon as you were able to.

ᕚ---ᕘ

The bright light of the infirmary blinded you as you slowly emerged from the deep darkness of the anesthetic sleep. At first everything was blurry - the shapes, the sounds, the feeling of your own body. You felt that something was wrong, but couldn't grasp what it was. Your head seemed to be wrapped in cotton wool, your thoughts swirled wildly, but one thing was immediately clear: something was missing.

Confusion spread through your foggy mind and your fingers twitched slightly. You instinctively reached for your hand, for the engagement ring that should be there. But it wasn't there. The cool, bare skin of your fingers touched nothing but the air. Panic shot through your body like lightning.

"Where... where is it?" you murmured quietly at first, still too dazed by the painkillers to speak properly. But the confusion quickly turned into naked fear. You blinked, trying to concentrate, but the feeling of emptiness, the loss of your ring, seemed to smother any clarity.

With a sudden, jerky impulse of movement that put the nurses on alert, you began to sit up in your hospital bed. "My ring! Where... where is it?" you gasped, your voice getting louder, your breathing getting faster. The tubes and wires monitoring you pulled taut as you tried to sit up further. Your body was still weak, but your panic gave you a supernatural strength.

One of the nurses rushed to your side, placing a reassuring hand on your shoulder. "Calm down, everything is fine. Please lie back down, you've just had a serious operation," she said gently.

But you barely heard her. Your thoughts were a wild storm, and the only reality that existed in your head was the horrible feeling that you had lost the engagement ring. Tears gathered in your eyes and your voice broke into panic. "No! My ring... I... I lost it! Where is it? Where is it?!" You desperately grabbed the nurse's hand as if she could give you the answer.

"It's fine, please, try to relax," said another nurse who had now joined you. "We'll take care of you."

But nothing could calm you down. Your chest rose and fell rapidly, the monitor began to beep faster while your heart beat in dangerous panic for your condition. Your eyes wandered around the room, searching for a familiar sign, something that could assure you that you had not lost the ring and everything it symbolized.

"No... no... please... I need it..." you whispered between gasping breaths, your voice full of desperation. The nurses exchanged a worried look, unsure how to calm you down.

Just then, the door opened and Athena entered, closely followed by Hen, Chimney, Bobby, Buck and Eddie. Each of them had spent the last few hours in endless worry, but when they saw you now - your eyes red and filled with tears, your body upright in a bed you weren't supposed to leave yet - a wave of compassion shot through them. The lump in Athena's throat grew when she saw how confused and helpless you looked.

"Hey, hey, everything's fine," Athena called immediately when she saw the panic in your eyes. She quickly went to the bed and knelt by the side, placing her hands firmly on yours. "I'm here, I'm here. You haven't lost anything."

But you shook your head violently, still unable to think clearly. "No... my ring! I lost it! Athena, I lost your proof of love…” The words came in jerky, desperate breaths as tears streamed down your cheeks. You looked at Athena with so much fear in your eyes that it broke her heart.

Athena took a deep breath, then gently squeezed your hand in hers. “Honey, calm down,” she said, her voice firm but loving. She stroked your hand gently. “You didn’t lose it. I have it.”

With those words, Athena reached into her pocket and pulled out the engagement ring—the ring she had put on you months ago when she had promised you to go through whatever life threw at you together. The ring sparkled in the soft light of the hospital room, a familiar, beautiful symbol of their love and future.

Your breathing slowed for a moment when you saw the ring. Your eyes widened, and the panic slowly faded as reality began to penetrate the veil of painkillers. "You... you have it?" you asked quietly, your voice shaking.

"Yes, darling. One of the nurses gave it back to me after she took it from you during surgery for safety reasons. I've been keeping it for you the whole time," Athena said, holding your hand tighter. "I would never let you lose it. You'll always have it. Just like you'll always have me."

Your chest was still heaving heavily, but your panic was noticeably subsiding. You looked at Athena, your eyes filling with tears again, but this time out of relief. "I thought... I thought it was gone."

"It's not gone. It was always here," Athena whispered, holding the ring gently between her fingers before slowly sliding it back onto your finger, right where it belonged.

There was a deep silence in the room. All eyes were on the couple - the team watched as Athena placed the ring back on your finger with as much care and love as if it were the first time. Chimney, Hen, Bobby, Buck and Eddie held their breath as if they were watching a sacred moment.

Athena looked deep into your eyes, her voice firm but tender as she said, "Will you marry me, here and now, a second time, y/n? Will you continue on this path with me, no matter how hard it may be sometimes?"

The words were a mixture of seriousness and comfort, a promise she had made before - and yet now, in this moment, it felt even stronger and more meaningful.

You, still slightly dazed, felt the world around you finally settle down. The fear of losing the ring had been like a huge wave that had washed over you - but now you were back on the shore. The ring was there, Athena was there. Everything was right again.

With tear-filled eyes and a weak but sincere smile, you nodded. "Yes... always yes."

Athena smiled warmly as a wave of relief and love washed through her. She leaned forward, kissed your forehead gently, and in that moment the whole room seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. The team, which had been in tense silence until then, could no longer contain the emotions.

"This is incredibly beautiful," Buck murmured with a moist gleam in his eyes as Hen poked him in the side.

"It's not often that you see someone propose the same thing twice," Chimney said quietly, his voice full of emotion. Eddie nodded silently and allowed a slight smile to appear while Bobby, the silent observer, took a deep breath. For him, this moment was a symbol of the fighting spirit that united them all.

[feralwaff1e]

It was now or never.

“I know you’re there. I know you’re fucking watching. You’re always watching. Guess what? I’m not here to work. That’s right. I’m here to be lazy.” To further illustrate this statement, he kicks his legs over his armrest, folding his arms behind his head, and smirking. “So lazy. Maybe I’ll take a nap. How do you feel about that?”

There’s a snarl above him, from the abyss that forms his ceiling. It sounds like metal being scraped against rocks. A creature scales down the wall like a spider. She drops the rest of the way, landing on her hands and feet in a crouched position. When she stands, she easily towers over Vox at almost twenty feet. She dresses in a circa 1980s ladies’ black pantsuit with shoulder pads so severe they look like pauldrons. Her shoes have knife blades in the place of the spike heels. Instead of a mouth, the creature has the funnel of a loudspeaker welded to the lower half of her face. Her eyes are bloodshot and manic. The eyes of too few nights of sleep and too many cups of coffee. Arms akimbo, hands tipped with perfectly manicured razor sharp nails on her hips in the ultimate power stance, she growls again. Her hair, burning as bright as white lightning, is pulled back in a bun so tight that the skin of her forehead and around her eyes are taut

“Vox,” she roars. “Why aren’t you working?”

‘Well, to be honest. I don’t feel like it.” Vox smiles ruefully when the entity emits an outraged howl. He looks at the creature. “I’m going on vacation,” he tells her. “I’m going on vacation, and I won’t be working.”

The creature howls with rage. “A vacation,” she hisses. “Laziness! You have too much work to do! You have no time for a vacation. Nose to the grindstone!” she drops to all fours and snarls. “You should be working!”

Vox sags against his chair. He’s been dealing with her for a while now. He hadn’t had an issue, but then he’d started spending time with Alastor, he started going to therapy, and that led to him wanting to spend less time here…

That’s when the issues started happening.

I absolutely love, Radio Saved The TV Star. It’s a great Fic and I recommend it! If I’m correct, @slash-is-my-weakness86 wrote it! I cannot wait for the new chapter!! The link is in the undercut!

[racheyace]

Mayday

G/t July day 10 – Alien

TW: some swearing, plane crash

Approx 2.3k words

Flying anywhere near Bermuda was never fun, the weather was so often unpredictable and even well-seasoned pilots with meticulous forward planning would still often get caught in the islands fluke storms. Raiden was currently navigating one of those such storms.

He was a solo pilot, and he preferred it that way, always seeing himself as a sort of lone wolf and taking carrier jobs where he could, this trip to Bermuda had been one of those such trips.

A devastating illness had been taking over the island recently and Raiden had been asked if he could deliver some much-needed supplies to the island.

The trip from Miami to Bermuda had been deceptively calm and he’d unloaded his cargo quickly and taken off again just as fast, headed back to Miami. Realistically he would be navigating dead East for most of the trip, skirting the dreaded Bermuda Triangle all together before then heading southeast to Miami.

Raiden himself never believed in the superstitions around the Bermuda Triangle, it’s been said that many pilots and sailors had gone into the triangle, never to return with no trace left behind. Raiden had always put that down to the chaotic weather systems within the triangle and not some supernatural force.

Even still, it was wise to keep away from the Triangle as much as possible.

Unfortunately for Raiden a rogue storm had seemingly come out of nowhere causing his navigation system to go haywire and steering him completely off course.

“Shit!” He flinched as some lightning struck his plane, causing the lights in the cabin to flicker.

Raiden glanced at the radar for the hundredth time, it blinked rather clearly, assuring him that the weather was clear and safe for flight.

“What the actual fuck is going on?” He growled at the radar, a supposedly reliable piece of equipment, capable of detecting storms nearby and navigating around them, not this time so it seemed. The sky had been clear when he’d left Bermuda an hour ago and then in an instant a bitch of a storm had formed around him.

Another bolt of lightning struck his plane this time proving more damaging, looking at the computer in front of him, the fuel tank light was blinking indicating that the lightning had damaged it.

“Mayday Mayday this is Saker 284 requiring immediate assistance!” Raiden shouted through the communication system, normally he’d have gone straight through to the Miami coms tower but he’d expanded the broadcast, hoping someone closer might be able to help.

Nothing but static. And he was losing altitude fast.

Archie’s day had started like any other, picking up his usual Mocha Latte from his favourite little café conveniently located just outside the airport before heading to work.

“Morning Arch, didn’t happen to get me one of those did ya? Nightshifts a fucking killer.” Kelsey groaned.

It was right on six o clock in the morning and time for change over in the air traffic control tower, Kelsey had drawn the short straw this week and had been given three-night shifts in a row. Looking at his coffee he felt a small amount of guilt that he hadn’t even thought of his poor colleague that morning.

“Sorry Kelsey, my mind was drifting this morning, busy night?” He asked, walking over to his computer, setting down his coffee and placing his headset on.

“Not really, though if it had been busier, it might have made the night go quicker, anyway I’ll head off, my bed is calling me!” She flashed him a tired smile before taking off her own headset and getting ready to leave.

“…mayday……mayday……assistance!” Archie’s eyebrows scrunched together in immediate concern, the voice in his headset was broken and full of static, he pressed some buttons to put the frequency on the loudspeakers and waved over the manager. Kelsey had also paused at the door and was watching with concern.

“Where’s the broadcast coming from?” Albert was the day shift manager, a large brooding man and a pain in the ass most of the time but under pressure no one could deny he knew what he was doing.

“I- I don’t know, the coordinates are going haywire it won’t zero in on his location.” Archie said watching his computer screen with interest, there was nothing on the radar currently, the next expected flight in this morning wasn’t due for another hour.

“Ask him his location.” Albert said bluntly.

“This is coms tower 349, please confirm your location.” Archie said calmly, though having Albert breathing down his neck didn’t help much.

“Saker 28… unknown…fuel tank’s gone….mayday” The line was broken and static continued to fill the speakers.

“There!” Archie pointed to the radar, an unknown aircraft had just appeared on it, seemingly out of nowhere, it was large, possibly a jumbo jet and it was only a few miles out and coming in at speed.

“I repeat this is Raiden Kalver aboard Saker 284, fuel tank is down and navigation system fried, requiring immediate assistance!” The voice on the line had become clearer now.

“Raiden, this is Archie Nugent in Coms Tower 349, we see you on our radar, the landing strip is to your left do you see it?” Archie asked urgently, the plane was fast approaching, heading straight for them.

“I see it, it’s too small I’ll miss it.” Raiden’s heart had stopped briefly when someone had responded to his call for help and then out of the fog he could see land below him, the storm had dissipated but now he was facing a whole new set of problems.

He’d lost basically all control of his plane, the left wing was smoking where the fuel had ignited it and he was going down, headed straight for an airport ironically.

“There’s a field directly behind the coms tower, veer to the right and slow down as much as possible, you should be able to make it.” Archie answered nervously.

They could see the plane in the distance now, the rumbling sound of the engine loud, they only had a minute or two and the plane would hit them if Raiden didn’t veer out of the way.

“Ahhhhhh!” Raiden yelled, his hand on the brake and pulling as hard as his sore arms would allow, veering to the right, the plane was turning slowly, and he could see the field beyond.

“BRACE! BRACE!” Albert shouted at the air traffic controllers that were still within the tower.

Archie remained frozen, watching with wide eyes as the huge plane sped toward them, it was veering to the right, and he gasped as the large wing glided over the coms tower missing it by an inch. A loud crash sounded out behind them, and Archie turned to see the plane had slammed into the ground, raining dirt and smoke all around.

“Get a med team down there now!” Albert shouted. “Good work Archie.” He gave him a thump on the back which reminded Archie that he still hadn’t taken in a breath.

Regaining his composure, Archie quickly climbed down the steps of the tower and followed the medical team, jumping onto their buggy without a word, he needed to see that Raiden was okay. That had been a close call for all of them and he imagined if Raiden was unhurt, he would at least be extremely shook up.

They approached the smoking plane and grew wary as it grew bigger and bigger as they got closer to it, Raiden hadn’t mentioned any other souls being on board. What was a plane this size doing here anyway, this wasn’t a major city by any margin, and it was extremely rare to get anything landing here besides a small passenger plane.

The aircraft was mostly mangled and it was hard to make out where the doors or even the cockpit were, they didn’t need to guess for long though.

A door at least fifty feet tall was pushed open roughly with a resounding bang and then a boot the size of a bus crashed down right beside the buggy. The medical team screamed and backed the buggy up only to bump right into a second boot.

“Holy shit.” Archie gasped, he jumped off the buggy and looked upward, a man, no a giant man stood taller than most of the buildings in his town.

Raiden had just crashed, he’d never crashed a plane before, he’d had some close calls in the past, but he’d never actually crashed. The force of the crash sent Raiden’s head slamming into the controls and after shaking the stars out of his eyes he looked around with urgency, the cabin was now filling with smoke, and he coughed as he pulled the handle on the door.

It wouldn’t budge so he threw his body at the door, kicking and punching it until it shifted just enough that he was able to pry it open. The sound of alarms rang from within the aircraft and Raiden quickly stepped out into the unfamiliar landscape.

Where the fields should have been green or brown even, he was surrounded by pale lilac coloured grass, something was not right. A sound came from where he’d placed his feet in the odd dark green dirt and he looked down, eyes widening immediately.

What looked like a toy golf buggy had just bumped into his boot and beside the buggy an impossibly small man stood staring up at him with wide eyes.

Raiden immediately took several steps backward away from the scene at his feet only to trip on the uneven ground and land roughly on his ass. The tremor caused by his fall could be seen as it tossed the small man to the ground and caused the buggy to tip over, more tiny people clambering out as a result.

“Man, I must have hit my head harder than I thought.” Raiden grumbled and put a hand to his still throbbing head.

Just when he was about to pinch himself, Raiden noticed the first little man he’d seen had now picked himself up off the ground and was walking cautiously toward him.

“A-are you Raiden?” The small voice reached his ears and he recognised it immediately as the man who had been on the intercom with him, Archie.

Raiden noticed now that the people weren’t exactly normal either, this little man’s skin was a pale green and his shaggy hair was a deep purple, where on earth had he landed? Was he even still on earth anymore?

“Yes.” Raiden answered, unsure of what else to do, they spoke English, he supposed that was a start, but he didn’t have any clue where he was or if these people could potentially be hostile.

“Are you okay?” Archie asked, stepping closer still, this man was so odd looking, his skin was a sickly cream colour and his hair a dull sort of brown, he’d never seen another person like him before, could he be an alien?

“Uh.” Was all Raiden could say before a loud bang like explosion came from the cockpit, the controls had now caught fire, they needed to get away now before the whole thing blew.

“Shit! It’s gonna blow!” Raiden warned urgently, he stood then ready to run and then remembered the little people wouldn’t be able to run as fast as he could.

“Ah, excuse me.” He said awkwardly as he grasped the small man Archie in a fast and scooped the rest around the buggy into his hands. With no time to marvel that about eight people were currently squashed between his hands, he held them to his chest and ran.

The aircraft finally engulfed by flames signalled it’s destructive end with a huge explosion, Raiden ducked down shielding the small people from the debris as it rained down around him. When the worst appeared to be over, he lowered his hands to the ground in front of him as the small people tumbled none too gently in the emerald soil.

“Sorry, I uh, I didn’t know what else to do.” He explained lamely.

Though the experience had been harrowing for Archie and the small team of medical crew, they were safely on land and largely unharmed save for a few bruises when the giant had squashed them together.

“He nearly killed us!” One of the medical crew shouted.

“He didn’t!” Archie shouted, though standing in the presence of someone so huge made his stomach church and his heart rate skyrocket, he found himself defending the injured pilot.

“In case you haven’t noticed, he crash landed here! He’s injured and despite everything he saved us from the explosion! So why don’t you do your damn job and check him over!” Archie couldn’t believe how authoritarian he sounded just then.

Though the giant was potentially dangerous, he’d done nothing thus far to show he meant any of them any harm. He could have left them there beside his aircraft, he could be an alien sent here to destroy them, but Archie didn’t think so. The mayday call had held real urgency, he didn’t think the giant had come here intentionally, wherever he had come from. He appeared just as shocked and confused as Archie and his colleagues did.

The medical crew stood shocked at Archie’s outburst, none of them moved an inch.

“Well!?” Archie urged, waving toward the giant who’d now laid down on his stomach to observe the small people better, and to be on more equal ground with them.

“It’s okay Archie.” Raiden spoke up then, noting the uneasy looks on the medical crews faces. “I’m not hurt, just a bump on the head really…uh but I do have some questions…” He said carefully.

“You and me both.” Archie laughed.

“I guess the main question is, where am I?”

I suck at endings, maybe because I never want them to end, so cliff hangers are a thing. Don’t worry this idea has been in my head for a loooong time, I have a whole story plotted out for these two but for the sake of G/t July and the theme of the day being ‘Alien’ I felt I owed it to you guys to share a snippet of this now. Hehe, stay tuned for more!

[squuote]

what if I turned the narrator into an electrical tower. or better yet a loudspeaker/siren tower, what then

[lambsouvlaki]

Moments in Between - Good Night (*)

Characters: Jason Todd x fem!oc

Rating and warnings: M (nsfw), female masturbation

Word Count: 1,134

Summary: Jason calls Andy late one night. His voice inspires certain feelings in her, despite her best efforts.

Masterlist

Andy walked in through her front door just as her phone started to ring. It was Jason. 

She raised an eyebrow at the caller ID and slung her tiny handbag off her shoulder and kicked off her heels. It was a fun Friday night out for her but patrol night for him. She wasn’t really supposed to know that, but there was a certain rhythm to his behaviour. She glanced at the clock. 2AM. Too early for him to have finished up, unless something was wrong. 

She accepted the call before the panic that thought triggered could seize her. 

“Jay? What is it? Are you alright?”

“I… Andy?” he said. He didn’t sound hurt, just surprised.

She braced a hand on the wall partly to steady herself against the instant burst of relief, and partly to make the room stop swaying. She was, perhaps, a little drunk. 

“Huh.  I was trying to call ol’ Wonder boy,” he muttered. 

She cocked her head and tried to puzzle out who that might be. Jason was a man of many mysteries and too many nicknames. …Wait. 

“Do you still have me saved in your phone as ‘Wrong About the Poetic Edda?” 

“Why,” he said through a yawn, “have you stopped being wrong?”

She looked to the heavens for patience. She had him renamed him ‘New To Nordic Literature’ in retaliation.  

He laughed at her when she didn’t respond. She deigned to ignore it. 

“You don’t need anything then?” 

“Hm?”

“You called me,” she said. She switched the phone to loudspeaker and padded into the kitchen on aching feet. “You sound out of it.”

“Oh yeah. Well. I just need someone to talk to while I fall asleep. ‘S like that time with that old guy in Siberia.”

“...You’re on something. Did you get injured?”

“Nu-uh. You’re not allowed to ask.”

She scowled at her phone. “Whaddaya mean, ‘not allowed’?”

“Hmm, I’ll hang up.”

“Outrageous,” she mouthed at a sleeping Marlow, who presumably agreed. 

“Okay. I won’t ask, but you have to tell me you’ve gotten everything seen to by a pro. You’re following official doctor’s orders here and were prescribed whatever it is you’re on. Can you tell me that?”

“Yes, ma’am.” 

“Okay. Tell me about Siberia.”

There was a long pause. “Siberia?” He sounded a little more like his normal sharp self.

“You said something about an old guy in Siberia?”

“Oh. Right.” The sharpness slid off again and he started a rambling story in a rough but low voice. There were some suspicious gaps and elements that didn’t really make sense. She was pretty sure there had been an old guy in Russia at some point. She didn’t think he had really taught Jason how to make borscht. She didn’t ask. 

She shimmied out of her cocktail dress and kicked it in the direction of the laundry hamper as she listened, offering encouraging reaction sounds where appropriate. She unhooked her bra with a long sigh of relief, made a cup of chamomile, and ran herself a bath. 

This was the most unguarded she had ever seen him. Even his breakdown after Joker’s most recent Arkham escape took place behind his towering walls. He was also so sharp, so controlled, even his bursts of emotion were intentional. 

This Jason was a different beast entirely. She listened with a soft smile. 

She felt thrilled, and awed, that he trusted her this much. He could have just hung up after realising he’d called the wrong person. She was determined not to mess it up. His voice drifting through the house was warm and comforting. 

She slipped into the bath with a splash.

“What are you doing?” Jason asked, interrupting himself. 

She tipped her head back against the porcelain, relishing the smell of rosemary and oranges. “Taking a bath. I’m filthy.”

“You could never be filthy.”

“Sure I can. Natalie spilled her prosecco down the front of my dress, my chest is all sticky.” She trailed the suds up through the valley between her breasts.

“Oh.” He sounded oddly strangled. 

“Jason? You okay?”

He cleared his throat. “Fine.” He suddenly sounded gruff. “Enjoy your bath.”

She hesitated, rerunning in her head what she’d said. She must be tipsier than she thought.

“You were telling me about beets,” she said, her cheeks warm. 

“Yes. Beets.” 

They had a very serious conversation about beets. 

She finished up her bath, dried off, and padded around the apartment in her negligee. Jason’s voice was getting slower and deeper. 

“Marlow says goodnight. Marlow, say goodnight.” she held out her phone. 

The dog let out a sleepy, “ruff.”

Jason let out a rolling chuckle. “Good night, Marlow.”

She headed to her room and sat up in bed. There was a toy in the bedside table that she had had ambitions for this evening, but she couldn’t possibly now. 

Jason’s voice rumbled increasingly deep and sleepy. It was like the perfect hot cocoa, dark and rich with just a hint of spice, still sweet and creamy on the tongue.

She sank down into her bed, wiggling her toes in comfort. She switched off the loudspeaker and put the phone on the pillow by her head. Her responses were quieter now.  

That rumbling voice sank through her. 

Idly, her fingers skated over her warm body. The silk of her negligee had ridden up to her hips and it felt nice pulled against her. The tips of her fingers slid over her panties to press and rub ever so gently against herself. The soft fabric grew damp. 

Jason whispered in her ear, plucking at her nerve endings. It was like she was drowning in it. 

Fingers pressed harder against flushed skin. Her breathing hitched.

Jason said something irreverent, she replied in kind. He laughed, that sardonic, slightly mean chuckle of his. She shivered. Her eyes fell closed. 

She pushed her underwear aside and sank a finger into herself. 

She imagined it was one of his thick, calloused  fingers. The towering Red Hood, leaning over her, effortlessly pinning her to the bed. 

Her eyes snapped open. 

She removed her hand with a gasp she tried to choke back. She pulled the blankets up to her eyeballs.

“Hm?” Jason murmured. 

“Nothin’,” she whispered. 

“Mm,” he hummed, barely awake. 

It was a good thing he was drugged to the gils or she would have never gotten away with that. Miserably horny, she listened to his rolling voice resume whatever half remembered story he had been telling. She wanted to bite the blanket and scream. It probably wouldn’t help. 

Slowly his voice petered out, and at last she heard only quiet breathing on the other side. 

Something hitched in her chest. A desire sweeter and more elusive than the one burning in her abdomen. She listened for a few minutes, soaking it in. 

“Goodnight Jason,” she whispered, and ended the call. 

Next>>

[undreaming-fanfiction]

With This Ring (5)

Chapter 4 here, Ao3 here

“So. You and Wheeler.” 

It was a poor conversation starter, but Steve didn’t blame Eddie. He was still half-convinced he was dreaming anyway, so why not indulge his dead friend with some gossip? 

“Eh…yeah. Kinda. I mean, it’s not fully like that?” Technically, if he told Eddie about Nancy’s real partner, it wouldn’t be a breach of trust, would it? He promised not to tell a living soul and Eddie wasn’t technically living. Then again, they were climbing an insane number of stairs towards a menacing tower of some sorts, Steve’s ankle was throbbing in pain and his breath was coming shorter and shorter. “So…we were together. Stuff happened and we’re friends. Great friends. But we really don’t…you know. Don’t want to get married, but our families think it just needs a push. Or a hundred. So now…we’re just stalling. Until her birthday. Which is why I need you to pretend you’re...I don’t know. An evil spirit I accidentally raised and that you’ll let me go in a few days if I fulfill our contract or something. Or that we’re married in the afterlife or something in the meantime so they can’t just drag me and Nancy to the altar. Or both. Preferably both.” 

Eddie chuckled and shook his head. His hair was still dark and full of dirt, but at least he managed to wipe his face. Mostly. “Wow. So you’re doing a decent thing then? Saving the damsel from an unwanted marriage? You’re the knight in shining armor on a majestic horse?” There was a prick of irony in his words. 

“Sure.” Arguing would have been the right thing to do, but breathing was also nice. Jesus Christ, how many stairs were there? Why was the stupid tower the only way to the world of the living anyway? “Speaking of horses, you happen to see mine somewhere? Because I could use it for this trip to the bloody undead Everest-“

“Dramatic.” With a huff, he helped Steve up another crooked and dangerously high stair. “We do have a few dead horses around, you know. Friendly enough. But no saddles and trust me, those bones are not comfortable. So we’re stuck walking.” 

There was nothing left to do but to grit his teeth, force his way through the pain, and pray that they would arrive at their destination soon. “Why the tower though?” Steve asked. “Is there some kind of a magical door? I mean, why is it…”

“In such a stupid place?” Eddie was laughing now and the memory of their lost friendship hurt almost as much as the injured ankle. “I asked the same thing when I arrived here. The thing is, Steve, it’s not a door, it’s a person. And unfortunately for us, that person is a massive recluse with tendencies to see conspiracies left and right. So persuading him to meet us anywhere else is not happening.” Wheezing, he pulled Steve to the last stair and wiped his brow. No sweat, just dirt, but old habits probably died hard. “We’re here.” 

And what a “here” it was. The tower was even taller from up close, looming over them like a massive, crooked shadow. The windows glowed sickly green and there was a sweet scent in the air, so unfitting for the eerie atmosphere. 

Before Steve could ask what the scent was, Eddie already knocked on the massive door and, to Steve’s astonishment, didn’t even wait for a response before moving back and looking defiantly upwards. 

Steve hobbled on to join him. “What are you staring at? A window or…oh.” 

“Told you,” shrugged Eddie and pointed at a massive eyeball that turned to examine the visitors. “Lots of security measures, trust issues, all of that. And before you ask, no, I have no idea how he got the eyeball.” 

Before Steve could react, a screeching sound assaulted his eardrums. “And I wouldn’t tell you even if you asked, Munson.” The words came from an army-grade loudspeaker mounted onto the tower in a blatant disregard for its impressive age. 

As Steve fought the ringing in his ears, the massive eyeball moved to inspect him closer and well, that was disturbing. He’d never seen an iris this vividly blue in his life, and, as he realized when the eye twitched to focus on his face, Steve found himself hoping he would never meet its original owner. 

The eye retreated to its position above the door and turned back to Eddie. It seemed weirdly judgmental, for a single eyeball.  “That one’s alive. He’s not supposed to be here. Are you out of your mind?!” 

Eddie shook his head and gestured towards Steve’s bandaged ankle. “Wasn’t intentional, I swear on my guitar, Murray. Actually, I very much agree with you, Steve here isn’t supposed to be with us yet, but stuff happened and now I really, really need to get him back upstairs. And maybe join him for a brief trip to get some fresh air.” He poked the eye in a misguided attempt to playfully nudge it. “What do you say, oh wise one?” 

The loudspeaker roared again, and Steve started wishing he’d packed his earplugs. His migraines had been better recently, not too many and almost bearable, but the high-pitched sound threatened to disturb the status quo. “Very sad. Consider me touched. But I have important things to do, books to sort. Can’t you bother someone else?” 

“I’d love to, a wonderful idea! Now if you can just point me to the other creepy tower with all the magical tomes in the underworld, I’ll be on my way. And I have full faith in you not just blowing me off so I don’t have to bring my sweetheart, you remember Murray, the electric guitar you hate so much, so I don’t have to bring her over and serenade you every day at max volume until your skull cracks-“ 

Steve snickered into his palm. He was injured, hungry, tired beyond belief and engaged to a dead man while his real fiancée faced all the bigotry of American small towns, but he was also having the time of his life. He’d missed Eddie’s confidence, that wide, almost manic smile as he leaned towards the creepy eyeball, challenging it. 

“Smartass.” Although the sound was far from ideal, Steve could hear the resignation in Murray’s voice. “Stay there. I’ll come to the door.” 

With that, the loudspeaker finally returned to being blissfully quiet.  

Eddie stayed still for a moment, making sure the eye could no longer see him, and then broke into a victory dance. “Hell yeah. Persuasion, baby.” 

His enthusiasm was as radiant as ever. Steve laughed and started clapping when Eddie finished his twirling in a theatrical bow. “Fantastic work.” 

“Oh, you have no idea,” grinned Eddie and leaned against the door, tapping his fingers on the heavy wood. “Getting Murray to open that door is a heroic feat, if I do say so myself.” 

“So what’s his story? Did he just drop dead one day and find a perfectly good uninhabited tower here?” 

“Errr…no.” Eddie’s hand twitched and he reached to the back of his head, smoothing the hair over the old wound. “The thing with him is – I don’t blame him for being so paranoid. The way you die, it...it’s not easy to get over it, for any of us. And Murray, he was crazy reclusive for most of his life. Then he got into conspiracy theories. He’d jump at every scrap of information he could find, obsessing over it for days. When he was convinced he got it right, he'd go to the Hawkins police.” 

A frown furrowed Steve’s forehead. “Let me guess. They never took him seriously.” Just like when you disappeared, he thought with a pang of bitterness. 

Eddie nodded. “Bingo. But Murray knew he was right. Or…thought he was. And his biggest revelation was that there was a secret Russian base under the old mall. Starcourt.”

“The one that burned down?” Steve was just a kid during the time of the Starcourt tragedy, but he remembered the smell of smoke, the sirens, missing posters that would gradually turn yellow and brittle. Hawkins never forgot and ever since the mall’s ruins got torn down, no one ever attempted to challenge the variety of specialized shops in the center of the town. The police rookie Jim Hopper emerged as a local hero from that tragedy, but apart from his name, Steve couldn’t remember anyone else connected with it. 

Another nod and a scowl this time. “Oh yeah. The thing is – when no one took him seriously, Murray decided to take things into his own hands. You won’t believe this, but the base was real – and Murray snuck in between crates masked as an ice cream delivery. He managed to bluff his way into the base – he speaks Russian, the crazy bastard – and somehow made it to the core of the operations or whatever you want to call it. Unfortunately, that’s where his luck ran out. The head scientist caught him taking a picture as a proof and confronted him.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh. To make things even better, the guards in that base thought the scientist was the one who let Murray in, and they shot them both, no questions asked.” Eddie spread his arms for the grand finale. “And so Murray made it here with a bunch of bullet holes in his chest and a new Russian acquaintance who couldn’t speak a word of English and refused to…you know. Not talk. He’s also here. And don’t tell Murray, but I think they’ve become friends. Kind of.” 

“…okay. That’s…” Steve was closing and opening his mouth, searching for words. But apart from what the fuck, he couldn’t think of any. 

“A lot?”

He nodded. “Yeah. It’s messed up in so many ways. But that still doesn’t explain the tower.” 

As Eddie took a deep breath to continue the story of Murray’s life and death, the heavy door swung open and revealed a balding skeleton. Steve never thought there could even be a balding skeleton, but this one stubbornly held onto his remaining hair and beard, or more precisely, what was left of them. It probably wasn’t a good idea to bring it up. Or the fact that he still wore glasses, even though he had no ears to hang them on. 

“Aren’t you a nosy one, Stevie,” he said and stabbed both visitors with a suspicious look. 

It might have been menacing to Steve, but Eddie just laughed and took a step forward, patting Murray’s shoulder…blade. Or another bone in that area. “Really, Murray? Of all the people in the world and beyond, would you be the one blaming others for their curiosity? I know you, you’re no hypocrite.”

Their host just shook his head and ushered them both in. “If you know me that well, you can tell the damn story yourself. I’ll have to get the elevator running since your friend here can hardly walk. My office is on the top floor.” 

“Oh god. Thank you,” breathed out Steve. He wondered how long his leg would take to heal. Normally he’d be up and running in a few days, but he wasn’t able to give his injury any rest at all. 

Murray disregarded his words of thanks, examining the rusty mechanism of a heavy metal platform resting on the first stair. There was a crank handle attached to the handrail and he started slowly moving it, swearing in at least three languages at the resistance it was giving. 

“So. The tower,” said Eddie, or rather shouted over the sounds of Murray’s insults and the rusty handle creaking. “There actually was a real...well. An assigned keeper of this tower, even before Murray and Alexei arrived here. He’d refused to move on and safeguarded all this knowledge.”

Murray kicked the stubborn handle. “Hoarded, more like. The old fart refused to share.” 

Eddie snickered. “Right. Unfortunately for him, this afterlife works in conditions. If you want to make double sure you move or don’t move on, you set a condition for yourself, as in - I’m not going until I see my wife again. When she dies and arrives here, you...leave. Not sure where, but you continue your journey. Our former lore keeper was very, very old. He set a condition that he thought would never happen.” 

Steve was so immersed in the story that he failed to notice that Murray’s efforts started paying off. “What was it?”

“I’ll move on when a man walks on the moon,” wheezed Murray and finally turned the crank enough for the platform to start moving towards them. Or at least that’s what Steve assumed from the screeching sounds from the top of the staircase. 

“...but that was years ago?” 

Murray nodded and leaned against the ancient wall, tapping his fingers as if he could speed up the machinery. “Right. But no one told him. He was useful to have around, they used to say. I, on the other hand, believe that a man should have all the information. It was unfair that he was kept in the dark.”

“And having a free library full of spells, curses and incantations didn’t hurt either,” muttered Eddie. 

Murray graciously decided to ignore him in favor of the platform that finally stopped with a deafening screech in front of them. “You make it sound so easy. You should have seen it when we took over, it was...” The torn muscle next to his eye twitched. 

“A mess?” offered Steve. 

“A paper tower of Babel more like.” Ushering Steve in with more care than he’d expected of the dead researcher, Murray gestured at Eddie to follow. “Imagine all the spells, curses, incantations, chants, everything magical ever invented, in all languages, fonts, with tons of spelling mistakes and pictograms that you’ve never seen in your life. All of that and no notes on which spell is in which language. And of course, you need to verify if it works before you catalog it.” 

Eddie leaned against the rusty railing and crossed his arms. “Wait. That half-dead, fully monstrous bat thing that got caught in Benny’s window? That was yours?” 

“Might have been.” 

“And the walking candle screeching Latin prayers?” 

“That too, but that one was a success.” There was a hint of pride in Murray’s voice, as if anyone should aspire to whatever that experiment was. “I assure you, we have everything under control. Compared to before, I mean. Now, I suggest you close your mouths if you value your tongues intact, just one more turn of that stupid crank, and...”

SCREEEEEEEEEEEEEEECH.

“Up we go!” yelled Murray over the sounds that no machine ever should have made. 

The “up” was indeed very high up. The platform was moving fairly slowly, but since the tower was so narrow, Steve’s head had started spinning by the time they arrived to their destination. Around halfway up, he’d started wondering if things would be better if he was already dead, but one look at Eddie’s firmly pressed together lips and an even firmer grasp on the rusty railing told him that no, this was an universal experience. Only Murray seemed unaffected, hopping off the platform with an annoying vigor. “Well, come on then. We don’t have all day.” 

“I sure hope they have a bucket up here,” muttered Eddie and took a wobbly step down. 

Steve could only swallow hard and will his afternoon snack to stay where it was. He clung to Eddie’s shaky frame as he joined the two dead men in a...wow. 

The room was massive. Either the tower was so tall the perspective made the top seem so small, or it must have been magically made bigger. Because there were just so. Many. Books. Piles and columns of them were lying all over the room, a massive oak desk included. And on the tallest pile of papers was a massive raven, eyeing the three of them with a menacing expression. 

“That’s Alexei,” waved Murray towards his feathered assistant. “Alexei, this is Eddie and Steve.” 

Steve watched in amazement how Alexei’s dark wings spread and he swooped down, finding a comfortable spot on Murray’s shoulder. “Uh. Hi, Alexei. I thought...” Steve’s eyes sought Eddie’s for answers. 

The other man just shook his head. “Don’t ask me. The last I’ve heard, Alexei was human.” 

“Oh, he was.” Murray was trying very hard to appear unbothered by the sudden weight on his shoulder, but the slowness of his movements and the unsuccessful attempt at balancing his hips gave it away. “Until last...uh. May, I think. We were cataloging a fascinating transformative spell. It worked fantastically.” 

Against his better judgment, Steve took a step forward and examined Alexei more closely. His feathers were beautiful and dark, save for a ruffled spot on his chest. It bore a disturbing resemblance to the wound on Eddie’s head. “Can’t you turn him back?” he asked. 

“Oh, we can,” shrugged Murray,or at leat attempted to. Alexei’s weight didn’t allow much movement in his shoulder. “We just chose not to. His intelligence is intact. And his wings are wonderfully useful in navigating this...chaos.” 

“Good. Good with high shelves,” croaked out Alexei. “Murray. Chto eto byl za shum?” 

“Etot duratskiy lift.” Noticing Steve and Eddie’s confused expressions, Murray gestured towards the raven. “What? Do you think the scientists in the Soviet Union learn English? Easier for us to learn Russian. Still, he’s made a lot of progress and he understands almost everything, so be careful what you say. Now, what was it that you wanted?” 

Suddenly, Eddie didn’t seem so confident. “Uh, yeah. I’d like to send Steve here back upstairs because...you know. He belongs there. And I will accompany him because I...” he trailed off, his eyes focusing on a random pile of old parchments. “I think I’ll be able to move on afterwards.” 

That caught Murray’s attention. With a pained huff, he settled Alexei onto the desk, and shook his head. “Are you sure? Because you know how that works. There’s no I think, if you think this is it, we have to do it the proper way. You’ll say the words, go upstairs, do what you need to do and...that’s it.” 

Eddie nodded, still avoiding everyone’s gaze. “Yeah, I know. It’s not what I thought it’d be, but...you know. I don’t want to go back down there, waiting for god knows what. So I’ll take that chance.” 

“Wait wait wait.” Steve grasped Eddie’s shoulder, shaking him hard enough to force his eyes back to him. “What do you mean? Care to enlighten me?” 

“None of your actual business, Harrington,” he snapped and moved to the side, out of Steve’s reach. 

“It kind of is. He’s helping you do it, after all.” Murray started rummaging through his desk, trying and tossing away a bunch of dried out ball pens. “Those conditions Eddie mentioned before? Just saying it isn’t enough, you sign a contract if you want it to be binding. Even if what you end up doing doesn’t fill that emptiness, you are obliged to go. And it seems that Eddie’s ready.” 

“Is he now?” 

Several things happened at once. Murray dropped a fistful of pens and pencils, Steve turned around so quickly he lost his balance and had to lean against the desk, Eddie forgot to be mad at Steve and reached out to stabilize him...

And Alexei calmly tilted his head, nodding at the new arrival. “Bob.” 

“Hi, long time no see.” He waved his hand, the healthy looking one, if that can be said about a corpse. “The door was open, so I let myself in.” 

Murray shot him a nasty look. “It wasn’t open.” 

Bob’s smile was unflinching and innocent. “It wasn’t locked properly enough. Now, I’ve come to volunteer to speed up the spell sorting, there’s little to do around here otherwise and I’m bored out of my mind. I offer several languages, a knack for puzzle solving and...” he reached into his shoulder bag, “a bribe for the master of the house.” 

In his hand was a jar of cherries. 

Murray’s expression was not amused. “You’re joking.” 

“Only partially.” With one more rummage through his bag, Bob produced a bottle of vodka. “Better?” 

The researcher’s face split into a wide grin. “Absolutely. You’re hired, but I’m watching you.” The bottle disappeared behind his desk so fast it seemed like a magic trick.  Now...to our lovebirds here. Are you ready to sign, Eddie?”

“Sure fucking am,” he muttered, taking a step forward. “My terms are: I record my music and send it to my contact, Craig in Indianapolis, with potential royalties, rights, whatever...to Wayne. When it reaches him, I can go. Good enough?”

Murray nodded, scribbling down the conditions. “Good. Sign here and then we can proceed with the teleportation spell. Alexei, can you please fetch-” 

“Cherry,” the raven croaked and pecked at Murray’s shoulder. 

This apparently wasn’t a new conversation for them. Murray didn’t seem surprised, only mildly annoyed. He rubbed his eyes and gestured towards the massive bookcase. “Get the damn book, will you? And then you’ll get your cherry.” 

Alexei shook his head, the black feathers shining in the lamplight. “No cherry, no deal.” 

“See what I have to work with?! Extortion, that’s what this is.” Despite his grumbling and complaints, Murray quickly opened the jar of cherries and tossed one towards Alexei. He immediately gobbled it down and blinked at his annoyed undead friend. 

Stretching his wings, he prepared for a takeoff. “Good cherry. What shelf?” he asked Murray. 

With a bony finger stabbed in the massive list on his desk, he pointed towards his left, way too high for anyone without a ladder to reach. “Section 21, shelf G, dark green, contained mold stains. Plane traversal and the issue of materialization.” 

Alexei croaked in response. With a strong flap of his wings, he rose from the desk and scattered around several parchments. Before Murray could gather all of them and finish his string of curses, the raven was back, the book in his talons. “Not right. Shelf F,” he pointed his beak accusingly at the offending bookcase. 

Murray scratched out a part of his long list. “Noted. OK, so...short term revival spells, transportation between planes of existence, portals...” 

“Are there long term revival spells too?” asked Steve. He went for an uninterested tone, but his heart was beating like crazy. Maybe this library could save Eddie where he’d failed. He could see Wayne again, could conquer the world with his music. Maybe with the right book, the right spell, he could-

“Sure are,” snickered Murray, still buried nose deep in the book. “Plenty of them, a bunch per every culture. The thing is - they’re either risky as hell, bringing back zombies, skeletons and all that, not the local ones but nasty, soulless creatures. Or they require some really ugly sacrifices. No one here would even dare to ask for such a spell, believe me. It’s the one good rule that’s worth keeping, try to move on, not back. Even though I see where you’re coming from,” he added, not unkindly. 

Steve’s chest felt heavy with desperation. He wasn’t the sharpest one, sure, but still...what good was all that knowledge when it couldn’t even save one single person? 

He only realized he said it out loud when Alexei landed next to him and nudged his shoulder with his beak, which was equally comforting and weird. “Not fair. But trying to make it fair...er.” 

Murray only shrugged his shoulders. “What he said. As much as we’d love to unleash every single curse here no matter the consequences, we have a certain responsibility. Now, if Eddie’s done signing...let me send you up. We’ll come collect you when the contract is fulfilled. You should take your friend with you, just in case something goes wrong.” 

Steve frowned at him, confused. “But…I’m going already?” 

Bob laughed and poked Eddie’s shoulder. “The other friend. You really suck at introductions, Eddie.” 

“He was sleeping,” grumbled Eddie, but he opened his jacket and gently removed something small and fluffy from his chest pocket. Something that looked…like a bat. 

The bat squeaked at Eddie and it sounded delightfully annoyed. It nuzzled into Eddie’s palm and Steve could just imagine the tiny creature slapping a ringing alarm clock, forcing it to let it sleep for five more minutes. 

Eddie extended his hand towards Steve. “This is Ozzy. He understands everything, he’s probably smarter than both of us. But he doesn’t like to speak.”

Steve shook his head in disbelief. Reanimated dead, short trips between planes or whatever that was, a corpse town underneath Hawkins, talking cats, Russian scientists turned into ravens, and now a smart bat who refuses to speak? Sure. 

Murray gleefully ignored Steve’s inner turmoil. “That should do it. Ready?” 

Steve opened his mouth to protest, but Eddie simply nodded. “Yeah. Let’s breathe some fresh air.”

With a snap of Murray’s fingers and an incantation in a long dead language, they were gone.

When the dust settled on the creaky floor of the tower, Bob smiled at the disgruntled researcher and stretched his hands. “Now, shall we start? We have a lot to do.” 

Chapter 6 here

[panopticonrpg]

EVENT 01. PART 2: THE FEAST

Your new home...

You’re off the cruise ship - but where are you? There’s nothing else in the horizon but deep ocean; inland, the beach gives way to thick wilderness, and a raised plateau with small, bungalow-style houses peppering the landscape. They all look exactly the same, and are scattered like a small village - or like someone tossed them on the land like dice on a board. To the east, a large brick and stone building squats in a field. Something about the building hums; closer inspection reveals generators situated around the back. The same with a warehouse building to the east - in fact, generators seem to power all electricity around the empty village…but what was powering the generators?  No gas tank, no batteries, no solar panels even.  But they chugged along nonetheless.

The cameras on the tall poles lovingly follow your movements, everywhere. What catches your senses - particularly your nose - is the scent of food.  On the coast overlooking over the ocean is a wooden patio, spacious enough to hold over 200 people.  The patio is empty, save for one long table near what looks like a barbeque-and-bar counter.  Under covered nets to protect it from wandering critters, are dishes and dishes of food. Hot and cold food, non-alcoholic beverages in large dispensers, dishes to please every palate and dietary needs.  Given how empty this place is, it's unclear how the food - freshly made and beautifully arranged - even appeared.  Was it here before you woke up, or did it manifest somehow during the panic of waking up on the Odyssey? The loudspeaker message glitches, garbles up and then suddenly changes to a woman’s soft and cheery voice: COME CHECK OUT THE BUFFET AT THE HUB! You must be S̡̧̧̡̨͔̜̲̞̖̥͚̦̎T̡̜̦͖͈̥̈́̈́̓͐͘A̻̘̜̣̱̫̳͖͉͊̃̅́̄̑͘Ŗ͕̞̜̩̟͑͆͂͐̐̊̑̀̊͝͠͝͝V̛͙͍̘̟̞̓͛͒͐̇̀͑̐̋̿̈́Í̧̻̗͊̃̎͆̍̅̕͜Ņ̧̧͙̲̬̳̞͇͇̊͆́͒̋̊̔̽̕͝Ḡ̡̦͕͔̘͎̥̻̅̾̉̂̅̎̄̋͌́͝͠ (starving) after your long travel to get here.

OOC info below the cut!

OOC INFO:

The rest of the island has opened up for exploration!  Within immediate access (about a 15 minute walk from the beach) are the community areas.  The top point of the Tower is in the distance, and might be tricky to reach, as there’s a strip of wilderness and a crooked old bridge separating the community from the Tower. The black-sand beach is about a half-hour walk, and the volcano island is a ten-minute swim (by a strong swimmer) to reach it.   Within the bungalows and medicenter, there are electric sockets.  (Hint: need a phone charger?  Your character might want to head back to the Odyssey).  All bungalows have plumbing and electricity, powered by the mysterious generators.  NOTE: Breaking apart a generator comes with risks - if you don’t understand the power source, can you put it back together successfully?  There are no generators to replace the ones in use. The medicentre is basic, but fully functional.  Inside the brutalist building, it looks incredibly sterile, like no one has used it since it was built.  The technology in there looks like it came from before Y2K. The warehouse is fully stocked with perishable and non-perishable food.  There are also some other basic supplies:

 somewhat shapeless clothes made of natural fabrics, heavy coats (despite the island seeming tropical)

some small household appliances, including toasters

plenty of toiletries and cleaning supplies

a few books and magazines

some cassette tapes, CDs, and old music players.  No music from after Y2K.

there are no televisions

a variety of repair and household garage small tools, mostly non-powered 

a stand-up dolly, some wheeled wagon-carts for carrying heavy things, and five bicycles.  

FINAL NOTE: The bracelets do not work yet! Patience…

[zaidshair]

location: ze hub @lindiwe-in-camelot

Zaid followed his nose...and the obvious announcement on the loudspeaker. A buffet. On that docklike structure overlooking the coastline (Zaid had to admit, an ideal location for a trendy, touristy bar & grill). Zaid wasn't just confused by the cheery announcement of food, and alluring scents wafting from this 'Hub'. He was also doubtful of the buffet's culinary merit. A buffet seemed ambitious, and Zaid was expecting something akin to stale bread and even staler water.

So for a myriad of reasons - hunger included, that blasted announcement was right. After expending all that adrenalin, Zaid needed energy - he made his way over to the Hub. He didn't like that he was so easily persuaded to go there. Like a lamb to the slaughter? Fattening them up first into full-bellied complacency? How paranoid was too paranoid on a place like this? But it was either check out this buffet and judge it, or return to the Odyssey to find a can opener for all the mystery tins he'd pilfered from the cruise ship's pantry.

He wasn't alone at least, or the first to approach the Hub. No one was eating yet, the atmosphere hushed. And Zaid understood why, as he got closer. The food was...beautiful. Hot dishes steaming as if freshly cooked. Deep fried fish and tempura that still sizzled. Vibrant charcuterie neatly arranged. Bowls of stews, curries, soups. Even the loaves of bread and dhalpuri and pita looked freshly out of the oven.

"Bloody hell..." Was it even real? Zaid compulsively swept his fingers across a tower of fruit skewers, and they all toppled under his sweep. "Oh fuck - sorry -" Zaid looked up at the beautiful woman on the opposite side of the table, who seemed to magically appear just in time to catch his faux pas. He scrambled to collect the skewers. "I was just testing them to, erm..." A stupid explanation that didn't need to go further.

Zaid tried again, after clearing his salty, watery throat. "Wonder where this all come from?" And the more damning observation: "No one's eating, yet."

[oqmemphis]

For the benefit (?) of my non-UK followers, I want to give some updates about our election next week, just to serve as a nice reminder that other countries also have completely fucking stupid politics.

The first thing to know is that there is absolutely no tension or jeopardy whatsoever. Every poll for at least the last eighteen months has predicted the same result, which is that the governing Conservative Party - which has been in power for 14 years and has spent that time doing nothing but cutting public services while becoming embroiled in increasingly corrupt and absurd scandals - will be utterly obliterated. They have 344 seats out of Parliament's 650, and they will be very lucky to keep hold of a third of those. Prime Minister Rishi Sunak's outdoor speech in which he called the election for July 4th (while being drowned by the rain and drowned out by a man with a loudspeaker blasting 90's rock) may as well have been a resignation statement. This is a man most famous for losing his initial premiership bid to a lettuce. He will be remembered either not at all or exclusively as a failure, and his party is trapped in a years-long death spiral. I will be deferring discussion of the Conservative election campaign for later, for reasons that will become clear.

Just for reference, this is what the opinion polls have looked like since the last general election.

The heir presumptive to 10 Downing Street is Labour Party leader Keir Starmer, who defies description within the bounds of language by means of having nothing whatsoever to describe. He is an abject non-entity with no distinguishing qualities; a vague and noncommittal centrist; someone whose self-described campaign strategy is likened to carrying a Ming vase across a room. Be safe and slow. Make no sudden movements. His party is expected to win at least 400 seats.

Down at the bottom of the chart are the smaller parties. One of Britain's bizarre idiosyncrasies is that we have at least seven political parties, and a first-past-the-post political system that cannot support more than two. These smaller parties usually win anywhere up to a few dozen seats in regions with particularly strong support, but they have no hope whatsoever of ending up as the governing party. Labour has promised to fix this rather unhelpful state of affairs by implementing a proportional representation system, which I'm sure they will definitely be eager to do after winning control of two-thirds of Parliament with just 41% of the vote.

Let us begin with the Liberal Democrats. A decade ago, the Lib Dems were a fairly large centrist party that gave the Conservatives control of a Parliament with no overall majority. Since Labour's lurch middleward under Starmer, they have repositioned themselves as the UK's leading progressive party. They are led by a man named Ed Davey, who has not spent the last month campaigning so much as taking a nation-spanning holiday occasionally interrupted by the arrival of a single bemused camera operator. In the last four weeks, Mr. Davey has taken a painting class in Yorkshire, fallen off a paddleboard in the Lake District, toppled a giant Jenga tower in Hampshire, and photobombed a riverside Conservative campaign stop by by slowly rowing a boat adorned with orange signs across the back of shot. The Lib Dems are expected to go from 15 seats to well over 50, and there's a small chance they even win more seats than the Conservatives. I hope Ed's having fun.

There is also the Green Party, which exists in a permanent state of self-contradiction. They have one member of Parliament and two party leaders; these are three different people. They want to expand renewable energy while banning nuclear power. They are considered one of the UK's major parties, despite the fact that winning a total of three seats next week would be considered an unfathomably excellent result for them. I do not know what their campaign so far has involved, and I do not care enough to check.

The turquoise line on the chart, currently rising with worrying speed, is the Reform Party. While Labour is siphoning votes from the more moderate side of the Conservative Party, Reform is attempting to scavenge from its far-right/fascist wing. They are led by Nigel Farage. If you do not know who Nigel Farage is, I envy you. His rhetoric is more than a little Trumpian, but I can't immediately think of any politicians anywhere else who share his exact vibe of "the grumpiest racist at the local pub is standing for election".

Plain-spoken and British through and through, Big Nige initially said he was going to ignore the UK election to focus on the American one instead, before U-turning two weeks later to announce he would be standing for Parliament. Nigel has had seven unsuccessful candidacies before; he is depressingly likely to be eighth time lucky. This is because he is standing in one of the most firmly right-wing and anti-immigrant districts in the country, and yet another unique selling point of the British system is that you do not have to live even remotely close to the constituency you represent. I'm sure his choice to stand here of all places represents his extreme confidence in his own popularity. Big Nige will not be the prime minister, but if he were, I assume his first policy after getting rid of all the foreigners would be to deport the concept of irony.

Nigel's electoral strategy is the same as virtually everyone else's, which is to steal votes from the Conservatives. This is extremely easy, because the Conservatives have run one of the most catastrophic and floundering campaigns in political history. Rishi Sunak puts Joe Biden's "walking gaffe machine" moniker to shame. To illustrate the point: one of the Discord servers I'm in has a thread entitled "Just the Tories being Clowns". Recent highlights include:

Thousands of campaign leaflets for the party chairman were sent to the wrong constituency

The deputy chairman went campaigning with a convicted heroin dealer

All of their candidates were invited to a video call with senior party members; the time listed on the invitation was one hour later than the actual scheduled start time, so nobody turned up

Their very first advert featured the UK's flag proudly flying upside-down

Five of their candidates are being investigated by the Gambling Commission for betting on the date of the election the day before it was announced; one of them is married to the party's campaign director

They sent campaign emails to small businesses which look a lot like official communications from government departments; the legality of this is unclear

Another campaign email ended with the words "Sent from my iPhone"

A candidate posted a photo of himself holding the keys to a local house to prove he lived in the constituency where he was standing; the house was in fact an AirBnB

The official photo for one candidate's campaign launch showed less than twenty people, one of whom was a cardboard cutout of Margaret Thatcher

Sunak posted on Facebook an image of a fake quote attributed to an AI image of Margaret Thatcher (there is somehow still a cult of personality around this fucking woman)

Sunak delivered an entire speech with his back to the press cameras

Sunak left the D-Day anniversary commemmorations early to go film an interview that wouldn't air for another week, enabling Keir Starmer to get a photo op with all the world leaders he left behind in Normandy

Sunak announced a policy to reintroduce national service for 18-year-olds, which is the same thing as military conscription, except the military part is not mandatory and you can just do a month of unpaid work instead, and it's not clear that that's mandatory either, except that not doing it might deny you access to your bank account; approximately nobody likes this policy, and even fewer understand it

My current working theory is that this is Rishi's revenge tour against the party that refused to elect him until the lettuce went rotten, before he resigns from Parliament, gets the fuck out of the country he destroyed and takes a comfy consulting job in Los Angeles.

Welcome to democracy in the land of post-Brexit. It's a wild new world out here, where people scream all day about a reality that doesn't and won't ever exist, and a man with a bin on his head is trying to unseat the prime minister. Don't ask about Scotland and Wales, and for the love of god don't ask about Northern Ireland - they might all be independent in a decade anyway, depending on how things go. All hail First Lord Sir Keir, that his bland neutrality might translate into a policy that involves doing anything whatsoever.

[sprnklersplashes]

home (the long way round)

ao3 fanfic fundraiser

She gets the first train she can.

She’ll miss two lectures and a seminar and ticket prices are a nightmare and the train station is cramped and there’s a stitch in her side from running and it doesn’t matter. It doesn’t matter because soon she moving, the world outside the window is a blur, and old stone towers and high street shops give way to green fields and doll-sized houses and then finally, finally, her town is called over the loudspeakers.

Two words, four syllables, the surest way to her heart.

‘Little Kilton’

When the train stops a kind old man asks her if she’s alright. Her heart seizes for a moment, panic gripping her, and then she realises it’s just because she’s crying.

‘Running’ isn’t the right word to describe how she moves. Nor is sprinting. Pip is tearing through the town’s streets like a storm, Hurricane Pip, pavement melting beneath her trainers. Every step is a blessing and she thanks it a hundred times over, thank you for letting me come back, she says. Gravel crunches beneath her feet, she stumbles on uneven  kerbs. ‘I missed you’ she says to them. ‘I missed you I missed you I missed you.’

She never wondered where she would go first. During those long, lonely months at Cambridge, Pip worried she would forget how to get there, but now, she feels the route deep in her bones, no, her heart, pointed like a compass and guiding her back to that precious, perfect, maddening house. Mum’s car is in the drive-the same car she drove Pip to school and drama club and dentist appointments in. Pip stops by the car, just for a second, puts her hand against the passenger door. Her handprint rests against the paint and where once that would’ve terrified her, she now sobs, because her hand is on her mum’s car. She holds it out in front of her, inspects it in the afternoon light. Steady. Bloodless. 

“Pip?”

Her heart stops at her name, head snaps up. She blinks once, twice, pinches herself to make sure it’s real and yes-that’s her mum standing on the doorstep, a bulging rubbish bag in her hand to match her bulging eyes. Her mouth hangs open, and she blinks just as Pip did because maybe she can’t believe that her daughter, who had become a ghost, is now here in the flesh, beside her car.

“Pip?”

“Mum!” The cry erupts from her throat, so loud and so elated that a flock of birds flee a nearby tree. Pip moves again, tearing across the drive and then she’s crushing her arms around her mum and they’re falling, falling, and the floor catches them. As her mum’s arms come around her-startled and confused but so, so warm-Pip’s head finds her shoulder and she bites back tears because she will not ruin her mum’s blouse.

(Too late)

“Mum!” she cries again. “I missed you so much!”

“I…” Mum begins. She stiffens, involuntarily, and then relaxes. “I missed you too, darling.”

Pip can feel it in her hands-the almost two years of Pip pulling away from them, the missed calls and blunt texts, a brief appearance at Josh’s birthday before she ran away again, noncommittal shrugs when asked when she’d be back. It was to keep them all safe, and it broke their hearts.

She’ll explain. Not really, but she’ll do what she does best; create, fabricate, lie. Build an alibi. She’ll make it better.

“What on Earth is going on out here?” Pip’s heart skips a beat, fresh air fills her lungs.

“Dad!” 

Pip releases her mum, her arms are empty for the briefest of moments, and then they’re around her Dad’s shoulders, she’s breathing in his aftershave. In her run over to him, she saw the faint grey hair at his temples, and another sob wrecks through her. She lost so much time with them. She’s here to earn it all back, but she still lost so much.

“Well,” her dad ways in her ear, the same light and jovial tone that helped Pip sleep, listening to his voice messages alone in her room. “This is a surprise, pickle.”

Pickle. She laughs against his shoulder and wants him to say it again, a hundred times more, a million, until it’s the only word she knows. She wants to stay this way forever, wrapped up in her parents’ embrace, and then the stairs creak and-

“Josh!” Detangling herself from her dad she rushes over and tackles Josh to the floor. He’s tall now-as tall as her-and it makes her want to scream and cry and hold him until her arms go numb. There’s a tremor in Josh’s voice when he says her name, in his hands when they wrap around her. Her Josh, her brother, thought she didn’t care about him, when she loves him more than anything in this world.

“How come you’re crying, Pippo?” he asks her. She chokes then, a half-laugh, half-sob.

“I could ask you the same,” comes her reply. 

She finds the Ward sisters next. Cara answers the door before she even knocks, her eyes wide. For a few seconds they’re silent, just looking at each other; no words are fit for such an occasion. Then Pip jumps on her and hugs her and Cara is murmuring her name, muffled against her jumper. They must look a sight; sunk to their knees in Cara’s doorway, but why would they care?

Eventually, they move to Cara’s room. Naomi finds them, a delighted scream emerges from her throat and the three of them cram onto Cara’s bed. They talk for hours and hours, about university and Cara’s girlfriend and the cafe and new albums and new tv shows. They talk, they laugh, Naomi fishes ice cream out of the freezer. Pip’s face is red and her stomach hurts and she feels like-no, she is-the luckiest girl in the world. 

She runs into Nat and Jamie in the cafe. There’s no need for words, not with them. The pull one another into a haphazard hug, Jamie claps her on the shoulder, and Nat orders coffee.

They argue for twenty minutes about who’s paying, then Connor appears, rolls his eyes and swipes his card. There’s a tear in them too.

Andie is first; Pip rests a little pink bouquet against her headstone. Pip’s breath catches in her throat. It’s quieter out here; no screams, no sobs, no barrelling into her loved ones’ arms. It’s just her and Andie; two girls who couldn’t have been more different until they couldn’t have been more similar. Good girls, bad choices, some would say. Bad girls, good reasons, others might say. Turns out they live somewhere in between. 

“You were okay. In the end,” Pip tells her. “And Becca will be okay. I promise.” Pip toes the ground, her hands stuffed in her pocket. The scene is somber as can be, yet there’s a small smile cutting across Pip’s face. “I hope you don’t see your dad ever again. But if you do… give him hell, Andie Bell.”

The wind picks up, dances through her hair. And somehow, Pip feels Andie will oblige.

Sal is next. Salil Singh, who loved the wrong girl at the wrong place at the wrong time. A heavy melancholy settles over Pip as she squats beside his grave, her chest constricting as she reads it. He gets a bouquet too, little white roses, as well as a postcard from the Cambridge gift shop. It’s a picture of the library, in all of its splendour. Perhaps in another life, he shows her around it, final year and first year. He would have loved it there.

“You deserved better,” she tells Sal. It’s the single truest thing about this whole web. Sal was killed and made into a killer, everything good about him scrubbed away like chalk. Justice was served but it will never really be made right.

Pip rests her fingers against the headstone. It’s cool beneath her skin.

“Rest in peace, Sal Singh,” she whispers. Then, in an even smaller voice, “Thanks for looking after Ravi for me.”

Wind rustles her hair again, gentler this time, and Pip gives a teary smile.

And now she’s here. Once again, she is standing at the Singh’s front door, with a Tupperwere box in her hand. What can she say; she was raised right. There are lines she will cross in a heartbeat, but she will not show up at her boyfriend’s house empty-handed.

Nisha answers the door, her eyes lighting up at the sight of her. Pip is welcomed in as if it’s her own house. Ravi is at work so she chats with his parents. She never found out what Ravi told them, but from the way Mohan  pats her shoulder and Nisha gives her tea, Pip wonders if he said anything. If Pip Fitz-Amobi stayed in this house, put here by white lies and steadfast hope.

“Why don’t you go wait in his room, love?” Mohan asks. “It’ll give him a nice surprise. He misses you something awful when he comes back from Cambridge.”

Ah. So that’s what he told them. Well played, Singh. 

His mum directs her to his room and Pip waits, surrounded by bits and pieces of her Ravi. Once the door is closed, she looks through all of them, greedy for details. She studies the photos on his wall, eyes moving to his eyes to his hair to his jaw. She thumbs through his books, runs her fingers across crease marks, tenderly strokes the Post-It reminders stuck to his desk. She will uncover every detail, nothing is too unimportant. She studies him like a scholar would a classic novel.

(Or… perhaps… like a detective studies a case)

The handle turns when she’s looking through his wardrobe, hoodie sleeves brushing her head. Pip jumps out of it, gasp stuck in her throat. Her heart beats, beats, beats, drags each second out to an hour. As the door opens, Pip feels the hair on the back of her neck rise, feels an electric tingle in her fingers because-

He’s here. Ravi Singh is here, standing in his bedroom, the afternoon sun casting a gold halo around him. He’s here, just as lovely as the day she left, lovelier. Taller, maybe. Hair is longer, matching the photos.

For one long, terrifying second, he doesn’t say anything. Pip felt sure then, surer than ever, that this was a dream, and she was about to wake up in Cambridge. Day 698.

“Sarge,” Ravi breathes. His eyes glimmer then, and Pip sees the tears running down his face. “Hi.”

Ravi takes one tentative step, then another. Then he’s the one crushing her. He pulls her so close, like he can bond the two of them together, and he is crying, and she is crying, and she feels like she’s flying until she realises Ravi has picked her up. Her trainers dangle above the carpet, her fingers curl into his hair. 

He’s sobbing, tears rocking his shoulders and wrecking his chest. Pip hushes him softly, gentle whispers of ‘it’s okay, it’s okay’. He whispers back, “I missed you, you’re here, I missed you”, so broken and so hurt that Pip hates herself for doing this to him. She did it to save him and it nearly killed them both. 

“I’m sorry,” she tells him. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” 

“Just kiss me, Sarge,” he asks. His eyes are bright, his lashes spoked, his cheeks flushed. She holds them in her hands, feels the warmth seep into her skin. His breath, hot on her cheek. “Just kiss me. Please.”

How can she say no?

[oolathurman]

i was living in egypt when 9/11 happened. I had been living there for a while at that point. i don't remember what happened the exact day of, but i know what mom said. she pulled me out of a scouts meeting bc all of us (civilians and others working for the US govt) had to go home and into lockdown immediately. We were holed up for days, maybe longer, I don't remember.

i remember watching the news. cnn. bbc. everything. the same clips, over and over, planes into the towers and into the Pentagon. i remember thinking that i didn't know the Pentagon was actually shaped like a Pentagon, I just thought it was the name.

And then I remember all the US media/entertainment shows afterwards. all the soap operas or other tv shows, all playing into that fear of plane hijackings, fictional stories taking inspiration from life

And the entire time the news was telling me who was to blame, the entire time I saw americans on TV speaking about muslims

I thought to myself,

"They're not like that."

The kids I went to school with? They're not like that. The teachers who scribbled on the whiteboard? Not like that. The taxi drivers, the waiters, the folks with storefronts along the Nile who sold tourist trinkets? Not like that.

These people were the friendliest people I had ever known. They were always smiling and partying and honked their car horns whenever their football team won. They played their music loud and had fun. They were quiet and reverent during prayer, when the imam would call for worship, singing to the community through the loudspeaker. These were people who invited me over for school projects, who invited me over for dinner.

And no one in the US ever seemed to see any of this. They never saw kids kicking a dusty soccer ball in the street, teenagers going to the mall to look at cute pins for their hijabs. They didn't see girls in the locker room showing off the first ipod ever, or boys pushing themselves to run in the heat despite fasting, just to show off.

Everyone in the US only saw and wanted to see terrorists, and The Bad Guys, and Extremists.

Islamphobia murdered so many people out of fear and hate of a people they never knew, or wanted to know.

[melissamasakari]

Confessions you didn`t notice

Final chapter. Special gift.

“Arlo, wait!”

“Oh, I was just on my way to see you. Did something happen?”

“Since you were coming to see to me, does it mean you’re on some important business?”

“Yeah, very important. I wanted to ask you out. What do you think?”

“I had the same offer. I recently built something cool there and I want to show it to you. The reviews were very positive.”

“Are you talking about the balloon park on the pond? It looks tempting. I was planning to go there with you as well”

“Well then, what are we waiting for? Let's go.”

The weather was incredible this morning, and my ‘heart knot’ project was finally completed. After packing the little heart in a box with a bow and hiding it in my bag, I went looking for Arlo. It's time to really confess my feelings to him with the right gift. I decided that it would be boring to just hand it over, so I invited him for a walk. And now we are heading to the pond. I'm so nervous!

“I suddenly remembered something. Aren't you afraid of heights?”

“Nope. My favorite thing at Barnarock was climbing on the water wheel. Or on a water tower. True, the Corps often caught me there and handed me over to my aunt. And the boys who climbed with me received no punishment at all.”

“Dangerous entertainment. I would rat you out too!”

“Which would offend me very much. It's good that you can't do it now. We've arrived.”

“You said you were getting motion sickness. Are you sure everything will be okay?”

“Let's take the shortest route. In extreme cases, everything is clear just in a few moments.”

“Fine. Two tickets please. Excursion over the city.”

We climbed into the basket, and the ball began slowly rising into the air. I felt a little nauseous, but most likely it was because I was overexcited.

“How are you feeling?”

“My head is a little dizzy, but it will go away soon, thank you. Look how funny the cows are running around the farm. From here they seem quite small.”

“We haven’t risen that high yet. But I can see your house! You added another an outbuilding, right?”

“Well, looks that someone haven’t come to visit me for a long time.”

“But I run past it every day. How did I manage not to notice?”

“And there is your house. It’s strange, before I didn’t attach any importance to the fact that the Headquarters are located in the relic tower. Is it possible to cross that bridge?”

“I wouldn't risk it. It is very ancient and may collapse. And if you stick out of the basket like that, you’ll fall out!” Making this remark, Arlo came up to me from behind and hugged me tightly, pressing me to him with one hand.

“And I won’t fall out! But, just in case, hold tight. I don't mind.”

“Look at the clock tower. Can you see?”

“Oh, Sam's on patrol. I wonder if she can see us from there?”

“On such a huge balloon? Of course she can. Look, she is waving to us.”

“She probably also makes funny faces. But I can't see it from here.”

“Yeah, I wish I had something like binoculars. Have you come across any on your expeditions?”

“No, but if I find ones in acceptable condition, I will definitely let you know. So what do your think is it a sound idea to organize air patrols from time to time?”

“It could still be useful in case of fires. Someone from above can direct the response teams.”

“To do this, we would have to come up with a reliable ground-to-air communication line. I have heard about such technologies, but without details.”

“It seems that Atara has a warning system of this type. Wired. The dispatcher sits in a booth, speaks into a special device, and the whole city hears him.”

“How do you imagine a wire that can be stretched from the ground to the balloon?”

“I don’t. That’s why I’m not asking you to make it.”

“By the way, it’s quite possible to make a ground one. Now that you mentioned it, I realized that in Barnarock they used the loudspeaker to announce sandstorms and other natural disasters. So that people have time to hide or, maybe, leave dangerous places. Earthquakes and severe storms were still reported in coastal areas. But I lived far from the sea.”

“How is life there in general? I have never been outside the cities of the Alliance.”

“Well, you know. Very dry, the sand is everywhere, shortage of water. Constant heat and terrible winds. You won't like it for sure. I also felt terribly lonely there.”

“Were you lonely? Was there some reason?”

“Yes. For example, you weren't there.”

“Is it that important?”

“You can’t even imagine how much. If you were by my side then, I would never have decided to move, despite rather unpleasant circumstances. You know, I had almost no friends. I stood out too much and was constantly bullied and insulted.”

“For what? You're a cutie! Well, now you don't have to worry. No one will dare to offend you here!”

“Thanks. True, actually now I myself can offend anyone. But I won’t, otherwise you’ll start threatening me with the cage again.”

“Hardly. You won't hurt a fly! And no one else except for yourself. By negligence. But I'm still looking out for you, keep that in mind.”

“Sure. Safety of all citizens is your responsibility after all. Look, we're already going down! I didn't even notice. Time flew by quickly.”

“Yeah, the landing pad is already crowded.”

“It’s okay, they’ll have to wait anyway.”

“Hold on tight, it might start shaking now.”

I carefully grabbed the side of the basket with my hands and held on until we landed. My fingers even turned white. On the landing pad my companion jumped out in one deft movement and helped me to get out. The people who gathered here waiting for the ride clapped their hands.

“How are you feeling?”

“Surprisingly good.”

“Come on, I’ll walk you home,” he suggested and offered me his hand.

So we walked together, holding hands and discussing all sorts of insignificant things. If this wasn’t a DATE, then I don’t know what it should look like.

“Well, here we come. We had a great ride, let's go out again someday?”

“With pleasure.”

“Then I’ll go,” he said. He was standing there, waiting for me to go through the gate. I’ve made a few steps and dug into my bag.

“Wait. I have something for you,” using the fence as a prop, I flew up to him, quickly kissed him on the cheek and thrust the prepared box into his hands. Then he came to his senses. “I want you to open this one at home, okay?”

“Fine. I almost forgot. Turn away for a minute,” a strange fuss and creaking of hinges was heard. Is he rummaging through my mailbox or something? There's nothing interesting there, I checked twice today. “I'm ready. You can look.”

Slightly flushed and clearly embarrassed, Arlo stood very close to me, holding a large box decorated with a bow in his hands. It doesn't look heavy. But considering what kind of things he is used to carrying, there could be any surprises here.

“Here you are. The conditions are the same as yours.”

“Well, I’m already home.”

“That means you’ll find out what’s there faster. And I should go, I'm also curious.”

The redhead galloped off cheerfully and disappeared from sight almost instantly. Very soon inside the box he will find a small pink knotted heart, palm-sized woven from strips of Flurpee leather and stuffed with the fur of a courteous bunny. And also a note with the following text: “Arlo. They told me that you will see this thing and immediately understand everything. This does not oblige you to anything. You can just return it with any next order by mail, and we’ll pretend that nothing happened.”

Absorbed in my thoughts, I went home, put the box on the table, and went to wash my makeup off. I wonder if he has already arrived home? Oh, that's right, I should see what he brought me. I unpacked the gift and discovered... A large red knotted pillow in the shape of a heart, and a blue bandanna, tied with a beautiful neat bow, was fastened to one of the segments. All together it smelled enchantingly of herbal soap. What? I rubbed my eyes and pinched my side. No, I still see the heart knot. And there’s a note: “Melissa, I’m sure you already date someone. But I want you to know how I feel about you.” Why did he decide?.. Stop. What?! HE gave ME a heart knot?

Throwing his wonderful gift onto the bed, I ran out of the house. Having almost reached the “flying pig” statue, I saw my target. Arlo had already begun to descend the stairs towards the central plaza. What for?

“YOU! RED BLOCKHEAD, come back!” He obediently turned around and ran towards me, opening his arms. On his chest belt I noticed my gift attached with a carbine. I accepted his inviting hands and jumped, hanging on his neck. How long have I been waiting for this?

“Melissa, I'm so sorry, I'm such a DUMBASS. I should have told you about everything earlier.”

“Why did you decide that I have someone else?”

“I saw you handing the heart knot to Django. I got scared. Then I accepted that I was too late.”

“You’re such a blockhead. I didn’t hand it over, but returned it. Until that day I didn’t even know what does the heart knot mean.”

“But why did you not tell me earlier?”

“DID YOU EVER LISTEN? At least once? I even told you directly several times today and many times earlier that I like you. I’m already tired of going through options on how to convey this valuable information to your dense brain” I pointed a finger at his forehead.

“It turns out that this has been dragging on for a long time, right?”

“Yeah. The first time I came to confess to you was after last year’s land run. Do you remember? Now, please, shut the fuck up and kiss me already.”

“I love you, Melissa,” Arlo said solemnly and gave me a long loving kiss.

Applause rang out from the second floor of the Headquarters, and we were showered with rainbow flower petals. They are not from my garden, I hope, at least, aren’t they? It's a good thing Sam loves rice too much to throw it from there. Damn it, what am I thinking about here? After all, almost all my dreams have just come true.

“Get out of my sight!” Arlo shouted at his subordinates, accompanying his command with a ‘fuck off’ gesture. It did not work. Sam laughed and continued to stare, hanging out of the window. Remy stood still by her side, his arms crossed on his chest.

“Forget it. So it turns out that we are dating now?”

“Maybe we can discard these intermediate stages?”

“Do specify.”

“Marry me. I heard that in your homeland this is casual thing.”

“Are you crazy, red blockhead?! I don’t even want to know where you got this information from,” an eloquent whistle was heard from above. “SAM! What did you tell him?!”

“Only the truth, and you're very welcome, kid!”

“Why hesitate?” Arlo lifted his hand to my face, and cupped my cheek drawing my attention to him.

“Don't tell me that you have wedding rings prepared. You couldn’t muster courage to give me a heart knot for who knows how long!”

“Then you won’t believe me. Because I bought the rings earlier. I still had to hunt for this strange guy; I didn’t want to take any risks.”

“You're right. I won't believe it. Just about an hour ago you were sure of my refusal, and now you tell me that you have been carrying a couple of wedding rings at least since the end of spring.”

“Winter. I got them after the Solstice. Well can I get my answer?”

“What about your upcoming exams and all of this? Don't worry, I'll support you anyway. But it would be very unpleasant to move out in such a short time.”

“It remains to be seen whether it will be necessary. We'll come up with something. Together. Do you accept my proposal?”

“YES! I couldn't have dreamed of anything more. I love you, Arlo.”

[homo-rashi]

Omovember 2024 | Marvel Cinematic Universe

𝙳𝚊𝚢 𝚃𝚑𝚛𝚎𝚎: 𝚂𝚝𝚞𝚌𝚔 𝚘𝚗 𝚊 𝙵𝚎𝚛𝚛𝚒𝚜 𝚠𝚑𝚎𝚎𝚕

“Come on, Mr.Stark you didn’t go on a single ride today.” The billionaire looked down at his energetic intern, his bright and eager eyes looking back up into his honestly exhausted and annoyed ones. 

When Peter sauntered out of his room that morning with a glum expression, explaining that Mrs.Leeds has contracted food poisoning and in turn, couldn’t take Peter and Ted to the fair, Tony was quick to offer himself as a replacement. He had nothing to do that day of importance and he likes spending time with the kid. However, he didn’t truly realize what going to the fair with Peter, an enhanced kid with infinite expendable energy… 

“This is the last one, Okay underoos? After this we have to get back to the tower and get some real food for you, okay?” Tony didn’t particularly love rides, mostly because he can sense the mechanical errors from these builders from a mile away, c but, He is eager to get the hell out of this place and back to the tower with proper A.C and Plumbing. Especially the latter. 

“Okay kid, calm down. I said I’d go on the Farris wheel, not the tilt-a-whirl.” The kid was practically bouncing the trolly off its tracks with how much he was vibrating in his seat. 

“Sorry, Mr.Stark I’m just excited.” 

“Yeah, excited and hopped up on sugar. What did you eat today?” Tony is somewhat glad he got to experience an outing like this with the kid, seeing exactly how much he ate and how overpriced the shitty food was, he made a mental note early on how he needed to send the kid with a lot more pocket money the next time he did end up going out with the Leed’s family. 

“Well, I got a pickle at the lemonade  stand where you got lemonade, and then a nacho platter when you got a slushy, Oh! And the deep fried Oreo when you got milkshake and—-cotton candy when you got water.” Tony rubbed his thighs together at the reminder of exactly how much he has had to drink today. While the fair food didn’t look too safe, the drinks did and it was the only way to curb his appetite the entire day. 

“Look, Mr.Stark, we can see the tower from here!” The Ferris wheel stopped at the very top, 

“You can see the tower from every tall building in New York, ki—-“ A loud squeaky noise erupted from the base of the Farris wheel followed by a slight jerk. “Fuck.” Tony cursed under his breath, already knowing a sound like that means trouble. 

”Uh oh. Are we stuck, Mr.Stark?” Tony looked the kid up and down—-he seemed calm…Tony would be calm himself if he didn’t feel like he was holding an ocean inside of him. Both of them have been stuck in worse situations, no need to panic and ruin the semi-nice day they have both had. 

“Sounds like it, kid. I don’t think you are necessarily stuck…” Tony winks at the boy, a knowing smile spread across both their faces. “Too bad you don’t have the suit.” He jokes. 

“Too bad you don’t either, you could probably fly down there and fix this thing with your eyes closed.” Tony hummed in agreement, He could, but knowing the inside of this thing is probably a mess, it would take even him a while to work out what is what. 

Time passes slowly. An official announcement via loudspeaker plays officially telling them and everyone else on the ride of the issues and that a repair team was working on the repair…Tony looked down to see the ‘repair team’ was a singular old man with a wrench and a confused expression. A sigh slipped past his lips. 

“Are you okay, Mr.Stark?” Tony turned on his smile and looked at the kid, not wanting to let the boy know of his growing predicament. 

“I’m fine, Kid. Just want to get home.” A well placed yawn by the man seemed to be enough to turn the kids worries away. 

•───────────────── •

Peter couldn’t figure out what exactly was wrong with Mr.Stark, but he could tell something was bothering him. Periodically, his heart rate would spike. The man’s dementor would seem calm and unmoving to anyone else, but in the tight space, Peter couldn’t help but tune into the more minute changes due to his super hearing. He could hear the tensing of muscles tendons alongside the quickening heartbeat, each time getting more intense, strained. 

He might not have known the billionaire for as long as others, but he has spent a lot of time with him in the last few years and it's rare for Mr.Stark to show any hint of anxiety, especially for such mundane things. 

Aliens invading the city, yes, mild anxiety. Peter, getting himself shot, maximum anxiety, but getting stuck on a Farris wheel…very bottom of the list of things Peter would consider anxiety-inducing to literal iron man. 

He had considered Mr.Stark being afraid of rides as the reason he didn’t go on anything else all day, but, he quickly realized that was nonsense when the iron man suits and basically more insane then any ride at a fair. He deduced Mr.Stark just genuinely had little interest in the rides, or, was taking the warning for people with heart conditions to not ride a little too seriously. The man's heart withstands being thrown around in the iron man suit….It can handle the teacups. 

It took a while for Peter to really be clued in on what was plaguing him. He would love to have said it was his own sharpness and being in-tuned with the other man's emotions that helped him figure it out, but, really, it was just his enhanced scenes. 

A short, almost instantly cut off hissing noise erupted from his mentor followed by the strong, to only Peter, smell of urine…Mr.Stark needs to be, and clearly badly at that…

Now that he knows that’s the issue, he realizes he didn’t see the billionaire stop off at the port-o-John’s a single instance that day, while Peter himself had to use them multiple times due to his enhancements. But even without a fast metabolism, of course Mr.Stark is desperate. It’s been hours. 

•───────────────── •

Tony’s eyes Burt’s open at the sudden loss in control. He Hadn't even realized he was concentrating so hard on not showing how bad off he is, that he closed his eyes. He is fucking Tony Stark and he just wet his boxers…

”M-Mr.Stark?” Shit. Tony knows the second he sees that look in the boy's eyes. That guilty but not empathetic worry that the spidering just can’t seem to hide. “Are you gonna be okay? You can hold it, right?” 

”I really hope so, kid.” Tony can’t even say yes. Even not, it's getting harder and harder to hold it back. The wetness in his boxers is teasing his body to let the rest of the flood out. Pants be damned. 

“Just…Do what you need to do, okay?” Tony knows that the boy means—-he is giving him permission to hold himself to prevent an accident for as long as possible and—-He lets himself do it. 

Not in the childish way he has seen Peter so many times on car trips and during missions, between his legs, stepping from foot to foot. Tony chooses to grab his dick from the outside of his pants, on his leg and simply squeeze for dear life. Tapping his other foot commences shortly after. 

He can’t help but feel two beady spider eyes trying not to stare at him. 

“Where stuck here kid, might as well spit out whatever you want to say, we have nothing better to do” 

“I—-I don’t really have anything to say…It’s just different seeing you be the one in this kinda situation is all…” Oh. Tony has alway been in Peter’s shoes when it comes to bathroom emergencies like these in the past. The boy simply can’t manage asking to let anyone know of his need until it's urgent. Peter has pissed himself in front of him so many times, Tony stopped counting when he realized it wasn't anything medically wrong with the kid, just anxiety. He has been working with him to normalize talking about this kinda thing, and here he was trying to do the opposite.

“I’m human too, Underoo. I deemed the bathrooms at this damn fair unusable, and look at the situation I’ve ended up in” Tony feels a leak slip past his tight grip. 

“Y-You’re gonna use the portajohns when we get off this thing though, right? Because it's not really safe to hold it.” 

Tony learns forward slightly when another leak slips past, this time wetting his hand that’s trying so hard to keep everything in. It isn’t working anymore…

”Kid—-I—-“ 

“It’s okay Mr.Stark!!! Like you always say to me, It’s not good to hold it and pants can be washed and—-“

”Shit.” Tony is soaking his pants before Peter can finish his speech. “Look away.” Tony accidentally says a little to frantically, He looks up from his quickly soaking lap to ensure Peter’s eyes are off him before he reaches into his pants and pulls himself out over his waistband, tuning over in the hard plastic seat and letting his piss fall freely onto the floor. 

“Mr.Stark are you—-“ 

The sound of his piss splattering onto the trolley is deafening to even him, of course the boy would instantly realize his mentor was literally exposing himself in public but—-Tony can’t find it in his mind to care. It feels so amazing to finally be peeing. 

The feeling of hours worth of liquid sloppily splashing out of his aching dick, forcefully and loudly makes him blush at just how desperate he was, and how obvious it was. He can see a bit of the piss running towards the crack in the door, likely dripping down to the ground, and hopefully not onto any of the other trolleys below. 

Once his stream slows down, Tony takes a second to look at his pants… He soaked them. There is no denying Tony Stark wet himself. He didn’t act fast  enough. Now that he is peeing, he doesn’t know why he didn’t just do this an hour ago, the second he realized he was in a bad place. The last of his accident falls from him and he quickly tucks himself back into his pants, praying they stay stuck long enough for his suit to dry, or, until it gets dark. 

Peter witnessing is fine, but if anyone snaps a photo of him like this...

[psychospore]

Little Miss Mischief

A/N: just a quick one I made while doing laundry as I was inspired with Cam and Mitch locking Lily in the car in Modern Family as I was watching it on YouTube shorts.

OoO

Y/N: Hey kiddo, Uncle Thor's visiting today to pick you up and daddy and go to the park.

Kiddo: What about you, mummy?

Y/N: I'll be visiting mummy's friends at the Avengers tower

Kiddo: Can I come?

Y/N: Next time, sweet pea. Your uncle misses you so much and your dad is going to be there with you

Kiddo pouts and frowns at the thought of being away from you but you kissed her chubby cheeks and she giggles at your gesture

Y/N: I'm sure you'll enjoy your outing for today

Thor loudly announces his arrival upon entering through your front door

Thor: Hello family! Uncle Thor is here!

Y/N: hello, Thor. How have you been these days?

Thor: hero stuff here and there.. easy peasy..

He looks at the kid and kneels at her level. Opening his arms in a welcoming hug

Thor: Kiddo! My favorite niece! Come give Uncle Thor a big hug!

He boomed as your kid ran up to him for a hug.

Kiddo: UNCLE THOOOR!

Loki: Is my pretty princess ready to go?

Kiddo: yes, daddy

She beams in response, still in Thor's arms.

As you guide them out of the house, Loki gave you a quick peck as Thor and your kid were already alighting the car.

Y/N: you all take care, alright. Call me if anything happens

Loki: do not fret, my love. You have two gods to watch over a kid, our kid.

Y/N: a demigod for a kid.. daughter of the god of mischief too I might add

You corrected. Loki looked at you, cupping one of your cheeks, assuring that everything is under control.

Loki: I will have utmost care for our baby girl. What could go wrong?

Thor: Loki, are you going or are you planning on making baby #2 right now?

You glared at Thor with his head popping out of the driver's seat.

Y/N: Thor! Language, you have a kid there with you

Thor mumbles incoherently popping his head back inside.

Y/N: go now, and have fun

You smiled as Loki leaves to go to the car.

oOo

Thor, Loki and Kiddo arrived at the Park. Thor checking to make sure to have the car keys inside the pocket of his jacket before going out. Loki was a mess though, fumbling to bring the large baby bag he packed earlier. Pretty sure Loki could have just magicked everything to make his life easier but maybe it's because of the fatherhood feeling that he wants to make an effort.

Thor proceeds to go to Loki's side of the car to check if he needs help. Loki just closed his side of the door when he instructed Thor to help the kid get out of the car.

As Thor was about to open the door, the car beeped and he realized that it was locked. They haven't locked the car yet, he fumbled to take the keys out but realized it was not in his pocket.

Both of the gods were mortified, seeing the car keys in the kid's hand. Loki dropped whatever he was holding and started panicking, along with Thor. Thor was signalling the kid to press the little unlock button while Loki was circling the car like a hawk to see if there was anyway they could get into it.

The kid was unaffected by the chaos happening outside, as she was giggling to herself while playing with the keys.

Thor: Should we smash the windows, brother?

A panicked stricken Thor asks

Loki: No, no, no! She might get hurt with the shards flying around. Should we call y/n?

Thor: it's literally been less than 15 minutes! I don't think she will be thrilled to know how we messed up.

Loki: I suppose you have way more better idea?

Thor: I suppose not, brother. Let's just call y/n then.

Thor looked defeated. Loki smashed his phone to call you and you heartily laughed as his voice shook telling you what happened.

Y/N: *over the phone, on loudspeaker* I see that my little miss mischief there has caused trouble as soon as she got the chance.

Thor: just help us out, dear sister, please.

Y/N: alright alright, I'm sorry. I just found it a bit hilarious that you both ACTUALLY forgot you can use your seidr to open the door.

Thor and Loki looked at each other in disbelief as Loki after you both finished speaking over the phone.

Loki: I can't believe I'd end up as stupid as you brother.

Loki jokingly declares.

Thor: but you have to admit, you have quite a mischievous daughter, brother. The god of mischief getting out mischief-ed by his own young daughter.

Loki rolls his eyes but in his mind, he was quite proud of the feat his baby girl pulled out today. The kid is indeed his daughter.

Loki: let's just get her out there so we could enjoy the park.

Loki magically opens the door to find his lovely daughter grinning at him like she did not cause panic to the two gods. Thor took the keys and made sure it was with him. The rest of the day was rather tame, Thor, Loki and the kid enjoying a fun bonding moment together.