#youre mine fic

[foreverisntenough]

Love your fics!!

What are your fave parts, spicy and/or non spicy, throughout the You’re Mine & Ours (and extras) fics?

Like what are you happiest with? And what was the most enjoyable to write?

Wowwww. These questionsss... I need other people to answer these too! Im dying to know but hmm... This will be long

Favorite Parts

Spicy: I think Chapter 2 leading into Chapter 3 in 'You're Mine' when they first begin to hook up... Is the one that outwardly sticks out to me because I was just so excited for it all to kick off.

You pulled one of his hands from you guiding it with your own up your body. From your ass, around your hip, up your stomach, racking your ribs, under and over top of the side of your boob, over your collarbone. Your hands moving painfully slow for Trent. He just wanted to ravage you. He wanted to protect you, love you but destroy you at the same time. He needed to know what you were like in bed. Now.

Chapter 29 in 'You're Mine' - Just anytime they would tease the other was 😮‍💨 Them laying in the cinema.

“Wouldn���t it be nice if I could just keep your cock warm inside me right now?” You whispered out of the blue into Trent’s ear. His eyes widened. His breath hitched. Your teeth nibbling and pulling on his earlobe. “Oh my goddd” he groaned but equally as quiet back to you feeling his cock start to harden. It resulted in him making another mistake in the video game.

Like any of the flirty bits like Chapter 29 in 'Ours' them laying in the cinema again. That room in general was spicy lol

“Is it? Because I think it turns you on.” You giggled with a cheeky smile giving him a bit of a tease. “I think it turns you on!” He yelped defending himself, turning your accusation back on you with an equally if not more cheeky smile. “Depends on the context, you just turn me on.” You repeated his initial commentary. He hummed in agreement, pecking your lips.

Non spicy: I think a lot of the more wholesome bits. maybe just the babies tbh

Chapter 15 in 'Ours' When teddy says 'dada' and they're playing footie.

“Good girl, Ted.” You encouraged her as you took your seat down onto the turf. You assumed after that reaction you’d be here for a while. You watched on with a smile. Teddy would turn around every so often to make sure you were still watching them after she heard your first compliment. If you happened to be on your phone the second she did, she would let you know. ‘Mama!’ yelled immediately grabbing your attention. They must’ve done that on repeat for an hour. Neither one was tired of it. Trent was stood on his knees next to her but leaned over and whispered in her ear. You watched him stand up and turn towards you. “Should we go get mummy?” He asked Teddy and started to jog towards you Teddy eagerly trying to keep up with him. You smiled and got up from the turf. You ran towards Teddy and scooped her up off the grass. She squealed.

Part 1 of 'The Epilogue' had to be Theo liking sheep for me. It was so beyond random but such a nice look at their family.

“Dada, know sheep are softs.” Theo tried to qualify what merited the new obsession. “Erm… yeah I guess, mate. Any other info for me or just that they’re soft.” Trent tried to stifle his laugh. He wasn’t expecting Theo to dole out any real reasoning but ‘soft’ wasn’t really high on his list either. He was also trying to work out if Theo had even seen a sheep in person. “Cool toos.” Theo tacked on. “Okay, soft and cool, that's valid enough. C’mere my little sheep.” Trent cooed, squeezing Theo a little tighter as he wriggled in his dad’s arms, still going on about the animal with unabated enthusiasm

I'll be so real any little scene with Teddy

In the pool - Chapter 21

“Mama! Like wawa!!!” She squealed. You giggled and pressed kisses to her cheek sporadically, keeping her close to you not letting her leave her seat safe on the step.

Racing in the house - Chapter 26

“Erm…” Teddy hummed thinking for a moment what to do. She wanted to win too but his arm clearly stretched past hers and you all could see that. “Tie dada, tay? We tie, tay?” She smiled at him before scootching herself up a little more on the carpet on her belly with a wiggle for their fingers to come be relatively aligned. Your heart warmed.

Afraid of thunderstorms - Chapter 23

“Ted...” he tried not to laugh. “Look, baby.” He pointed to the splashing puddles on the patio stone outside the glass door “It’s just wawa. You’re okay.” He cooed. They sat there for a while embraced. Teddy squeezing him a little tighter every time she heard the thunder but bravely watched the puddles regardless. 

The chapter I am happiest with probably has to be Chapter 1 of ‘You’re Mine.’ I don't think it is the best as far as composition but it just set the tone for obviously a massive piece of work. I thought it was enticing, exciting, realistically farfetched. The whole thing made me smile.

Most enjoyable to write: These are probably two very contrasting chapters but they were by far my favorites to write

Chapter 12 in 'Ours' was probably one of my favorite chapters start to finish.

Chapter 19 in 'Ours' was... and I know this is backwards but I love the turmoil.

You didn't ask this but just general recurrences I always liked... Marcel and Teddy's relationship, Trent being soft, Anytime Y/N opened up, Trent dropping his bags by the door. idkkk....

Anything readers liked that I missed?

TY again for this question

[docescene]

List of Types of Kisses

This list is divided by category, kiss type, emotion conveyed, and description. You can do whatever you want with this information.

More prompts!

Location

[BELLY KISS] Love, care: a gesture of affection and protection;

[CHEEK KISS] Respect, affection: gesture of greeting, friendship, or affection;

[CHIN KISS] Passion, desire: an intimate and sensual gesture.

[EAR KISS] Desire, intimacy: a sensual and provocative gesture;

[EYELID KISS] Love, affection: a delicate and romantic gesture;

[FOOT KISS] Adoration, devotion: a gesture of submission or adoration.

[FOREHEAD KISS] Love, care, comfort: a gesture of affection, protection, and tenderness;

[HAIR KISS] Affection, tenderness: a gesture of affection and care.

[HAND KISS] Admiration, reverence: a gesture of respect and admiration;

[KNEE KISS] Passion, desire: an intimate and sensual gesture;

[MOUTH KISS] Passion, love, desire: the most common, can vary in intensity and technique;

[NECK KISS] Desire, passion: a sensual and provocative gesture;

[NOSE KISS] Affection, complicity: a gesture of affection and intimacy;

[SHOULDER KISS] Passion, desire: an intimate and sensual gesture;

Intensity

[CHASTEN KISS] Friendship, affection: a light touch on the lips, expressing affection and friendship;

[OVERWHELMING KISS] Passion, desire: a strong and urgent kiss, expressing intense passion;

[PASSIONATE KISS] Passion, love: an intense and desire-filled kiss, with tongue and light bites;

[SHY KISS] Insecurity, desire: a hesitant and delicate kiss, expressing insecurity and desire.

Type

[CINEMATIC KISS] Romance, idealization: a long and passionate kiss, idealized in movies;

[BUTTERFLY KISS] Romanticism, delicacy: kissing with eyelashes, expressing delicacy;

[ESKIMO KISS] Affection, friendship: rubbing noses, a gesture of affection in cold cultures;

[FISH KISS] Sensuality: kissing with lips slightly open;

[FRENCH KISS] Passion, desire: exchange of saliva and tongue movements;

[INVERTED KISS] Passion, adventure: kissing with bodies inverted, like in Spider-Man;

[LIZARD KISS] Sensuality, playfulness: licking the other person's lips;

[PECK] Friendship, affection: a quick and light touch of the lips;

[VAMPIRE KISS] Sensuality, mystery: kissing the neck with a slight suck.

Context

[APOLOGY KISS] Regret, forgiveness: expressing regret and seeking reconciliation;

[COMFORT KISS] Compassion, comfort: expressing compassion and comfort;

[FAREWELL KISS] Longing, hope: expressing longing and hope for reunion;

[THANK-YOU KISS] Gratitude, recognition: expressing gratitude;

[WELCOME KISS] Joy, happiness: expressing happiness at seeing someone.

[courfee]

some soft accidental tie switch jegulus for the fic blindspot

[its-tea-time-darling]

im sorry, we turned your boyfriend into a mole. yeah and all of tumblr‘s interested in him now. sorry

edit 9/12/23 11.22 CET

and so it begins…

fic1, fic2 @pathsofoak ao3 tag. Mole Poem @thaliaisalesbian . fic by @tourmelion .

update:

ao3 link. please vote for mole scene in most underrated goncharov scene poll

[steddiehyperfixation]

with blonde hair and a tan

steddie brainworms so bad i wrote this silly little thing immediately after watching the rocky horror picture show for the first time the other night lol @steddie-spooktober day 30: "where in the hell did you find that costume?" | 1083 words | T |

Eddie can hear Steve and Robin squabbling as he makes his way up the stairs to Steve's room. 

“I just don't know about this, Rob.” 

“It was your idea!” 

“It's too much. I should wear something else.” 

“Little late for that now.” 

“Well-”

“Where in the hell did you find that costume?” Eddie stops in the doorway, frozen in a state of shock at the scene in front of him. His mouth hangs open, eyes wide, and a sudden heat rises in his cheeks. 

Because Steve is standing in front of his mirror wearing only a tiny metallic gold speedo and matching gold boots, his great expanse of tanned skin and muscles and body hair on full display. Robin stands next to him with a spray can of wash out bleach-blonde hair dye at the ready. 

Steve looks over at Eddie. “It's too much, isn't it? I knew it. I told you,” he says to Robin, gesturing at Eddie as if his reaction proves his point. “Look at his face, even he's embarrassed for me.” 

Robin snorts. “Yeah, I don't think that's why he's blushing, Steve-o.” 

“No one’s even gonna know who I am,” Steve continues to complain, thankfully ignoring Robin’s comment. 

“Rocky,” Eddie says. His voice comes out weird and cracked; he clears his throat. “You're Rocky, from The Rocky Horror Picture Show.” 

“See?” Now it's Robin’s turn to gesture towards Eddie in vindication. “Totally recognizable. Totally good. It's just one party, and you've got all that unwarranted jock confidence, you'll be fine.” She pats Steve on the shoulder, then turns and tosses the spray dye at Eddie. “Here. You can take over spraying his hair. I have to finish getting myself ready.” 

Eddie fumbles trying to catch the spray can, his attempt to stammer out a protest falling on deaf ears as Robin pushes past him out of the room. “Okay.” He sighs. This is fine. He can totally handle being left alone with this literal golden adonis without getting heart palpitations. He can be cool and chill and normal. He can. 

Steve looks amused. “You don't have to. I can probably manage spraying my own hair just fine,” he says when Eddie still hasn't moved. 

“No, I got it.” Eddie shakes his head, shaking himself into motion. “You won't be able to get the back right on your own anyways.” He approaches Steve - with great restraint, he might add, because there's a part of his brain that's all animal right now and it's just raring to pounce on him. “So are you done trying to talk yourself out of this costume, then?” 

Steve chews at his lip as he studies his reflection again. “I think so,” he decides. His gaze flicks up to meet Eddie's eyes in the mirror. “You really don't think it's too much?” 

Eddie breaks the mirror eye contact before his face can turn any more red, fixing his focus singularly on starting to spray the blonde dye onto Steve's hair. “No, you uh, you look good. You really should've warned me- told me, I mean, what you were gonna be. I would've matched your theme, could've gone as Dr. Frank N Furter.” (His current costume in comparison is quite boring, just a basic vampire - albeit with some pretty impressive fake blood around his mouth if he does say so himself, but ultimately nothing special.)

“Now that would be something,” Steve mutters, the words a little breathier all of the sudden, but Eddie still doesn't dare let his glance wander from his hair. His voice is back to normal in a second anyway. “Well, there's always next year.” 

“Yeah, next year,” Eddie echoes. That really would be something, both of them in flamboyantly skimpy costumes. He's not sure if that would make this situation better or worse for him. 

He pushes up some of Steve's hair to make sure he's covered all the layers in the back, his fingers accidentally brushing along the skin of his neck, and Steve shivers. Eddie finds himself watching with an odd satisfaction as the goosebumps ripple up in the wake of his touch. 

“I think I might freeze to death like this, though,” Steve comments with a self-deprecating chuckle that just barely conceals that weird breathiness that's returned to his voice. “I probably should've considered that before I decided to go out half naked at night in the middle of fall.” 

“I bet you could easily find someone to keep you warm tonight,” Eddie tells him, forcing detachment. He locks his attention back on his hair dyeing work. “You walk in there looking like this and you'll have all the girls at the party falling at your feet. Probably even some of the guys too,” he adds, remembering Steve recently came out as bisexual. 

“Yeah?” Steve sounds like he's smiling, or maybe smirking. He tries (unsuccessfully) to catch Eddie's eyes again as Eddie moves in front of him to get to the last few pieces of hair. “And what about you?” 

“What about me?” 

“Would you be one of them?” 

Eddie finishes with the hairspray, nothing left to keep using as an excuse to avoid his attention. He finally looks at Steve's face and raises an eyebrow, deflecting. “You want me to fall at your feet, Harrington?” 

Steve shakes his head almost imperceptibly. He glances down for a moment, then looks back up at him from under his lashes and takes a step closer. “I want you to keep me warm,” he clarifies in a murmur as he reaches for Eddie's free hand and guides it to hold his waist. Eddie's blood ignites at the touch and the look Steve's giving him, flames racing along his veins. 

That's as good an invitation as any, and Eddie's restraint shatters. He draws Steve hungrily to his lips. How could he not? The spray can falls from his grip in favor of using both hands to pull Steve closer and roam his body. And if Eddie's wandering hands linger for a while in their investigation of that perfect gold-clad ass, well that's between them and the lovely little sound Steve makes against his open mouth. 

And Robin, who has the misfortune of poking her head back into the room right then. 

She yelps and jumps out of view of the scene, banging her fist against the wall just next to the doorway to get their attention instead. “When you guys are done being gross,” she shouts, “there's a party we're gonna be late for!” 

[delusionsofgrandeur13]

girl, i wanna see you undo it

i wanna see you but you’re not mine.

how the other batboys react to a breakup

18+, mdni !!!!!!

readers can expect: a fem reader, lotttta angst, cursing, mentions of violence, sexually explicit scenes including mentions of penetration, oral, and masturbation. also tim drake being a creep via e-stalking but reader is aware of it and more or less okay with it.

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

your ex boyfriend, bruce wayne, was avoiding alfred.

his butler was insisting on signing him up for therapy, and bruce was dodging him, hard. he didn’t have it in him. he wouldn’t go pay a professional to hear how pathetic he was over the lack of you in his life. couldn’t. he’s found a much more effective way to get out his emotions.

one that involves his fists and a goon’s face.

it was probably cruel, these poor goons were just trying to feed their families, or something, but batman was indifferent.

he was now always nearing dangerously close to breaking his no-kill rule. almost always teetering over that edge. even with his own life. he’d head out in the batsuit, prowling the seediest streets of gotham, hoping, practically praying, for someone to do something illegal. he would put himself in the most deadly situations just to feel alive. wasn’t the healthiest solution, but.

did he care? no.

bruce was numb, unfeeling to those around him. he couldn’t even look at himself in the mirror, not at the stupid fuck who’d lost the love of his life. he’d lagged behind in his case solving, gordon was growing increasingly more concerned. he was rude to the paparazzi asking after you, almost able to hear your voice in his ear, telling him to be nicer to them, whacking him on the bicep. he’d throw his usual charity galas, sure, but would send dick or jason in his place to showboat. he didn’t have the patience to talk to reporters. didn’t want to show face if you weren’t there on his arm. you always made the social aspect much more bearable. would always help him relieve the stress of it all after the event had ended.

but did he still care about you? yes.

just like when you were dating, bruce taking care of you was second nature.

he wouldn’t dare cancel the flower deliveries he’d set up when the two of you were together. they appeared at your apartment door every week and a half, always something different, but always in your favorite colors. you couldn’t stay mad at them either, the flowers brightened up your kitchen so nicely. when you and bruce were dating, he’d merged your calendars, just so scheduling was easier. you’d since deleted the connection, but he somehow still knows when you have appointments, as you’ll come out of your building’s lobby to a sleek black wayne enterprises car. the chauffeur opening the car door for you silently. you’d take it over the subway every time, even if it was a little awkward.

the dating app you’d downloaded after the breakup kept glitching, never letting you text any of your matches back. if you cared more, you’d contact support, but it was so odd. everything else on your phone works perfectly fine! but you had a gut feeling it had something to do with your ex boyfriend.

bruce might’ve slipped oracle a few bills for her silence over that favor.

he tried not to think about the fact you were already willing to start dating again. he couldn’t fathom being with anyone else. could not possibly wrap his head around it. why would he want anyone when he could have you? when he had already had you? everyone else seemed..lackluster.

it’s the same reason he’d been celibate since the breakup. after you, he was tainted. he didn’t think he’d ever be able to have sex again without thinking of you. especially in his own house. the two of you had fucked on every surface possible, seriously. tried every position.

it’d been difficult just sleeping in his own bed when he used to share it with you. used to make your legs shake as you gripped at the sheets. would never make you beg for anything, eating you out until you couldn’t take it anymore. that’s when bruce would press you up against him, holding you up with his huge arms as he pounded into you, his balls slapping against your clit as you whined, barely able to form words.

he’d never been with anyone the way he had with you. so obviously he wasn’t even able to finish with his own hand. it was nothing, nothing compared to the way you felt. his imagination would never have him moaning the way you could. could never make him melt the way you oh so easily were able to, with just a look.

so he was numb. and bruce just figured that’s how he’d stay.

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

your ex boyfriend, jason todd, throws his book across the room, flinching when it thuds against the wall opposite.

annoyed at the surprise romantic subplot, he huffs out a breath from behind his hands. he has to get over his sudden aversion to romance, but it feels impossible after losing you. he can’t watch any of his favorite movies, can only read a select few of his favorite books.

he barely even goes out anymore, mostly to avoid seeing couples on dates. the two of you loved going out together, loved going out to community events like concerts in the park, fairs in the summer. he missed accompanying you to your nephew’s t-ball games, watching you cheer and beam up at him in one of his old baseball hats.

so he barely goes out. he doesn’t have you with him!

he saw an elderly couple strolling in the park the other day. jason had promptly turned in the opposite direction, to avoid crumpling into a ball and sobbing or throwing up into the nearest trash can.

he’d gotten back onto his bike and rode home, going way over the speed limit. he didn’t care about being safe on it anymore, not when you weren’t there to ask him to or be his backpack. he missed the way you’d hold on to him, your thighs bracketing his torso as the bike roared. how at stoplights you’d rub your palms over his chest, grabbing his pecs with your gloved hands. your resulting giggle was muffled through your motorcycle helmet, but it was still the sweetest sound in the world to him.

but jason stopped bothering trying to function out in public after that, only ever really leaving his place for missions and to train at wayne manor.

and boy, had he been training. ever since the two of you had broken up, he’d been working out to the point of exhaustion.

barely peeling himself off of the floor after each workout, always heading straight to the shower to rinse the sweat off while he zoned out into the steam. after his workouts was the only time he would relieve himself. he’d hunch over with one hand propping him up opposite the tiled wall, the other fisted around his cock as he thought of your pretty smile, your gorgeous eyes, the meat of your thighs, the curve of your ass. how you’d clench around his cock with yet another orgasm, moaning his name into the mattress.

he’d finish, hard, his body shuddering, leaving him to be ashamed with himself.

he wasn’t allowed to do this, he wasn’t allowed to think of you like you were still his. all this and yet the pain in his muscles still didn’t ease the pain in his heart, the pain seeping into his bones whenever he thought about you.

jason was still hesitant to be around his siblings.

you had left your perfume in his bathroom, and while he knows it sounds crazy, he's been spraying it on his clothes. he misses the way they would smell like you after you’d borrow them. he still hadn’t touched one of his flannels, the one you loved to steal and loved to see him in. he didn’t see the point in wearing it if you weren’t there to see it.

the last time he’d seen damian, his little brother had loudly asked him why he “smelled girly.”

jason had turned bright red and mumbled something probably unintelligible before briskly walking away, bumping into the doorframe on his way out.

he’s been spraying your perfume on the pillow you’d always use too, snuggling it close to his chest like he used to with you while he fell asleep.

it’s definitely not the same, but it’s the closest jason has to the real thing.

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

tim drake, your ex boyfriend, swiveled in his desk chair, spinning back and forth. the monitors covering the wall above his desk were alive with various video feeds and social media websites.

@user892548276 was viewing your instagram story, a gorgeous selfie of you that tim had already screenshotted. he had plans for that later. @gothamite69 was liking your latest tweet, while @ilovedoggiess couldn’t get enough of your latest tiktok.

he knew he had to switch up the users so you’d think it was bots. you’d figure it out otherwise. too bad he had a thing for smart people.

he nodded, satisfied at the cctv feed of the street your apartment building was on, before throwing a hoodie on over his bare chest. tim strolled into the kitchen, his sweats slung low on his hips. he ran a hand through his hair, using the other to grab the coffee pot to refill his mug.

“hey, tim. whatcha up to?” jason leaned against the doorframe, his arms crossed.

tim jumped, turning around.

“just some surveillance, nothing much.” he replied, hoping he sounded nonchalant.

“ohh, that case for bats?”

“mmhm.” tim cracked his knuckles, something of a nervous habit he’d developed after the breakup. and his serious lack of sleep.

“well, i won’t keep you. tell y/n i said hi!”

tim flinched at the mention of you as jason left in the direction of the garage. it’s not his brother’s fault. jay had been really busy with the outlaws lately, never home long enough to realize tim hadn’t brought you over in weeks. tim scrubbed his hands over his face and through his hair. maybe it was the exhaustion muddling things, but tim can’t remember the last time he’d had a full night’s sleep. it was already difficult falling asleep. it only made it worse that every time he did fall asleep he dreamed about you.

but dick had noticed. he had slowly transitioned tim’s assignments to mainly desk work. his older brother was probably worried about him being too tired on the field and getting hurt. but he hadn’t told bruce. tim preferred it that way. he didn’t need a big fuss about if he was okay or his performance level as a hero.

tim grabbed his mug, making his way back to his bedroom. he caught a glimpse of a dark figure in the window, spooking himself. he was on edge so much worse than usual. his reflection stared back at him, his face skinny and his eyebags dark against the pale skin of his cheeks.

tim shook his head, heading into his bedroom. he swayed a little, locking the door behind him. he set his mug on his desk, sitting down in his chair just in time to see you heading down the street.

he stood up so fast his chair rocketed back, hitting the wall. you usually don’t go out on thursday nights. is everything okay??

he types frantically, finding different angles to effectively follow you down the street, physically recoiling to see you stop at a restaurant. just another date.

you stopped, looking around, waving when you spot a blond guy walking towards you. tim enhances the best he can, zooming in on this asshole who thinks he’s good enough for you. tim scoffs out loud at the wrinkled shirt your date has on, looking ridiculous in comparison to your beauty.

the sundress you’re in is one of his favorites, red and white and flowery. he gulps down a sip of coffee at his screen when you turn around, the fabric hugging your body. he blinks, snapping out of it as your date ushers you into the restaurant. tim cracks his knuckles. he reaches for his phone, pulling up your contact. he itches to call you, to pull you out of the date you’re on, to make you think about him instead of that tool you’re with.

but he can’t. he shouldn’t.

he pulls up the screenshot of your story instead, staring at the selfie of you in his favorite sundress. his cock twitches against the fabric of his sweats. he can’t even count how many times he’s had you rutting against him with that dress hiked up to your waist.

he tosses his phone onto his bed, sitting back in his desk chair as he palms his cock, his brain full of thoughts of you.

you pressed up against him in a slinky dress as you slow dance at a wayne gala. waking up in your bed how the two of you fell asleep, naked, limbs intertwined. dancing in a gotham nightclub together, your hair in your face as you throw your arms up and swivel your hips in his direction in your shortest dress. the texts and pictures you’d been sending back and forth after the breakup, unable to let each other go.

tim throws his head back as he finishes, your name on his lips. his body rigid, the warm liquid all over his hands. he cleans himself off, staring into nothing until his computer dings at the motion detected on your street. you’re strutting down the sidewalk, the street empty. before you head inside your building, you stare into the cctv camera across the street. you wave, smiling coyly. tim sits up straighter, holding his breath. you hold up your thumb, and tim groans. that guy??

but you flip your thumb down at the camera, shaking your head. bad date.

tim whoops, beaming.

he shuts down his computer before flopping onto his bed, burrowing under the covers. five minutes later, he’s fast asleep as his coffee grows cold where it sits on his desk.

[bignostalgias]

Translations Chapter I: Heimr

The coast disappeared when the sea drowned the sun / I knew no words to share with anyone — Different Names for the Same Thing, Death Cab for Cutie

HiJack Language Barrier AU

Read on AO3

—

The biggest warmest thank yous to @envy-of-the-gods and my sibling for beta-ing and reading despite their busy schedules, it means the world that you’re willing to put up with my beloved cringe crossover slash. And a million thank yous to @alkalinefrog for the cringe nights and constantly inspiring me throughout the writing process. Y’all are amazing ❤️

[eggcats]

(separating this into its own post bc I need the validation of the radiostatic enjoyers)

Alastor absolutely believes that everyone else ALSO thinks that Vox is the most charming and attractive demon in hell, it's just an objective fact - just like how Vox is an annoying clout-chaser constantly trying to upgrade himself towards more and more validation

--

Like imagine, for whatever reason, Vox is at the hotel and he's bitching about Valentino, and Alastor is nearby because he doesn't like or trust Vox alone in HIS hotel.

Vox: And then the fucker said that he only sleeps with 10s AND Vox! That absolute bitch, how DARE he?! After everything we've built!

Alastor, confused: The distinction makes sense. I fail to see how THIS is the thing you take fault with, considering everything else lacking in the moth.

Vox, mortally offended that his rival-crush ALSO thinks he's ugly and trying to pretend he doesn't care about it: uh, FUCK YOU?!

Alastor, now both confused and offended: If he included you in the scale, no one else would rate a 10? Although I suppose it is true about what they say about television rotting the brain, if your offense is taken at a rare show of consideration and NOT the publicized and continuous cheating. Ha ha!

Vox is so caught off guard that his screen immediately glitches, and it's not until he does a full system reboot that he can even RESPOND to what Alastor just said.

Alastor is making fun of his flimsy technology when Vox comes to.

Angel is cracking up in the background, watching this entire thing go down.

Vox has no idea where to go from here.

[hemlock-dreams]

Pick Your Poison (5837 words) by Bright Euphony Chapters: 1/? Fandom: Spider-Man - All Media Types, Deadpool - All Media Types Rating: Explicit Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings Relationships: Peter Parker/Wade Wilson Characters: Peter Parker, Wade Wilson, Jack Hammer | Weasel Additional Tags: Hunting!Spider AU, Identity Porn, Alternate Universe, Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Wade Wilson, Morally Ambiguous Peter Parker Summary:

After a synthetic drug made from his venom ravaged the world, Peter Parker was willing to pay any price to set things right and give everyone a clean start. He just wasn't expecting to be included in that bargain, transported to a new reality where Peter, and by extension, Spiderman, never existed.

So how's a washed-up superhero supposed to carve a space in a world where he doesn't officially exist? By starting somewhere that doesn't ask any questions, and Sister Margaret's Bar for Wayward Children has a reputation for looking the other way. They also happen to need a bartender.

Deadpool comes back from a job to find a new face manning the bar at his favorite watering hole. Peter Parker is hot, funny, and obviously hiding something, and Wade's always been a sucker for a good mystery- especially if he's the one who gets to unravel it.

Too bad there's a new superhero on the block who's making it his job to get on Deadpool's last nerve.

[shoplifting]

Your silent protagonist doesn't have to use sign language btw. They don't have to write things down, either. They don't have to use language at all. Not every single person who doesn't talk can use words the same as you, or use them at all, so your favorite silent character shouldn't have to use what you consider a grammatical language to communicate in your fanart and fics. AAC exists. Drawing exists. Gestures and body language exist. Btw.

[blueskiesrry]

EVERYTHING OF MINE IS YOURS | 33k | E

"Did you two have a good time?” Harry in his bathroom, brushing his teeth with frizzy hair and tired eyes. Harry on the couch cuddled up with Posy, cradling her in the crook of his elbow, humming a soft song. Harry laughing with his friends in a pub on a Friday night, a flower field in his eyes. Harry in his bed tucked under the covers, naked against fresh sheets like a shock of moonlight cutting through a storm. “Yeah,” he says. “We did.”

or: With Harry in New York finishing up his PhD and Louis in London working as a solicitor, they try to navigate their eight year situationship including almost-daily phone calls, the occasional indulgence of casual phone sex, and endless gossip sessions as the feelings they have for each other get harder to ignore.

[courfee]

look at that!! i've talked about it so much and now chapter 1 actually exists in real life!!

[helaelaemond]

Dragons Abroad - Aemond x lover!reader

Rating: Universal

Category: Angst

Pairing: Aemond x you

Set prior to Rook's Rest

Words: 1k

"There are dragons abroad."

You look at him. Across the table you sit from him and watch him. Around you, he is bare. No shirt, no breeches, no eye patch. Falsehoods gone, inhibitions left at the door. Yet his gaze avoids yours now. "So there are."

His voice is a quiet mumble. "I must go to meet them."

"I think that is not true," you reply. You look down at your hands and try not to pick at the skin around your fingers. Scabs make it sore already.

"I wish to meet them."

"That is true," comes your soft reply.

"And our time together is ended."

"Another falsehood." The words are confident, despite the ice in your chest. Frosted steel has pierced you between your ribs and into your very heart.

Aemond glances up. His fingers drum lightly on the wooden table. So many meals you shared with him here in the sanctity of his rooms. "I cannot take you with me."

"I never asked you to. I only ask that you come home to me."

"That, I cannot promise."

"Then promise what you can."

He opens his mouth to reply, but words fail him. He retreats into his comfortable silence. Prince Aemond leans into you when you stand and cradle him into you. He wraps his arm around your back and presses his face into your stomach as he sits in his chair and you stand at his side. The touch against his hair is welcomed, and he leans into your hand when you run it down his scarred cheek.

"I can promise nothing," he murmurs after a long time.

'You can promise to come home to me."

"I might not return. If I do, I do not know what will be left."

"I'll take whatever there is."

Aemond sighs your name and you go to pull away, but his strong arm around you does not loosen. And so you allow yourself to stroke his hair again. Part of him melts against you. The blade in your heart does not warm.

"I will destroy my enemies out there. I will paint the skies with fire and blood and-"

"That is all very noble," you interrupt softly. "But it will not make you whole."

You look down at him and see his face twitch. "I'm not a knight from one of your stories. I will not be the gallant hero you so desire."

It happens without you thinking, really. You sink to your knees in front of him. It would be folly to think it would make him smile this time, like it so often does. A place of worship before him. Now a place to beg. "I don't want a knight on his horse to come and save me. I just want you. As you are. Please."

"Do not beg."

"Please, Aemond, please don't make this the end, pl-"

"This is not becoming of a-"

"Please. Please, please." Your voice is steady but you can feel your throat beginning to close. "I am good for you."

And the fierce, stoic, hard Prince Aemond looks at you on your knees, utterly soft and warm, and his brow creases. "You are," he replies, oh so gently.

"I make you feel good."

He nods, head tilted to the side. "You do."

"I make you happy."

And he nods again. "I will not destroy you. I must leave you."

You lean up and try to kiss him, but he turns so you catch his cheek. It is only then that you realise your hands and his are grasped tightly. They have come out in a cold sweat. Strange, you think. He is never clammy.

You press your forehead to his temple. Some of your tears fall onto his pale cheek. "If you leave me, I will be destroyed. I can weather any storm but this."

You feel his jaw clench. A thousand words fall silent on his lips.

"Please."

Suddenly, his hands wrench from yours and then you feel them, strong and damp, on either side of your head. Your eyes open as he pulls you closer, closer, and you think yes! Yes, he understands! He will leave but come back to me! Yes-!

But your lips are not granted a kiss. Instead, a long kiss is pressed to your forehead. It is tight and hard and full of agony. It is farewell.

After it is ended, he has little left to say.

"I will wait for you, you know."

He watches while you move back to the other side of the table, while you smile sadly at him.

"If you want me to."

"I do not."

But his denial is not one that makes you sad. For anyone else, he might be cruel. But for you, he cannot bring himself to do that. There is only honesty between you, both kind and cutting.

"Do you wish to be with me?" you ask one final time.

Aemond cannot lie to you. Not after all the beauty you have shared, not after all the ways you have grown to know one another. Not after all the true and deep love between you. "I do," he says slowly. "More than almost anything."

"What do you wish for more than that?"

He sighs quietly. "To keep you safe."

"To force me to be free will not keep me safe from anything."

"It will" he insists gently. "You shall be safe from me."

Despite the agony in you, you can still force a smile. For him, always for him. "That is not safety. That is a fate worse than death."

"Worse than what I could be?"

"Worse than you could ever become. The worst you could be, Aemond, is gone."

[steddiehyperfixation]

wishful thinking

@steddie-spooktober day 12: graveyard | 1,058 words | T | canon compliant

“Hey, Eddie. Sorry Dustin couldn’t be here, you’re stuck with me today,” Steve says as he crouches down in front of Eddie’s gravestone. “Hope that’s alright.” 

Dustin usually comes by about once a week to clean the hate speech off, but he’s on vacation with his family right now, so Steve took it on himself to take up the mantle this week. It’s covered in slurs this time, angry red spray paint scrawled over a headstone that wishfully asserts that Eddie is ‘finally at peace.’ Bullshit, that. The graffiti and the headstone. How can he be at peace when all those witch-hunting dickheads are still stomping all over his grave? “I guess we don’t really give you much peace either though,” Steve muses aloud. “The kids visit you so much. Your uncle too. Kind of crazy - for all the hate you got, you were loved just as much too. Don’t know if that makes you feel better or anything.”  

He sighs, dunking a rag in a bucket of soapy water and beginning to scrub the paint off the gravestone. “I don’t even know why I’m talking to you, it’s not like you can hear me, wherever you are,” he says, though he still continues to talk regardless. It gives him something to do while he works. “I know Dustin talks to you a lot too. He says when he does he almost feels like you’re actually here, like you’re listening to him, sitting with him. He says that he imagines you responding to him, swears up and down that sometimes he really does hear you answering. But I know it’s just his imagination, wishful thinking. I think he knows that too. He just misses you. You dying really hit him hard, you know.” 

For all the years of crazy Upside-Down shit they’ve been through, Dustin had never lost someone so close to him before. It hardened something in him, left a hollow behind his eyes and an anger and cynicism in them that hadn’t been there before. Steve worries about that kid now more than ever. 

“Maybe it’s a good thing you’re not really there, that you can’t see the way he’s changed,” he tells Eddie’s grave. “I think it would just depress you. It depresses me. But, I don’t know, sometimes when he talks about how he thinks he can feel your presence here some of that old hope and light returns to his eyes. So maybe it’d actually be better if you really were still hanging around, if it’s not just in his imagination.”

He shrugs. “And maybe you are. Who knows, the world we live in these days. It’d make sense, I guess, that your spirit or whatever might come back down here for Dustin. You guys had that, like, nerd bond. Not for me though.” He huffs out a dry laugh and re-wets his cleaning rag. “Either way, I’m still just an idiot talking to myself in a graveyard. There’s no reason you’d come here for me. It’s not like we were really friends. We barely knew each other, we just went through the week from hell together and then you died.” 

He frowns as he scrubs at a particularly stubborn line of graffiti and he falls briefly quiet, chewing at his lip. His silence is more pensive than focused, old thoughts now swirled up to the surface in his mind.

“I think we could’ve been, though,” he says after a moment, “friends, I mean. If I’d’ve gotten the chance to know you better. If we’d had more time. We- maybe we could’ve even-” Steve falters, unable to speak aloud what he’s really thinking, not while he’s scraping off slurs that might be hurled at him next if anyone heard. He can’t say that that moment in the stolen camper van when Eddie leaned into his space and called him ‘big boy’ had made something strange and new slither in his stomach and warm his blood. He can’t say how he wishes they could’ve gotten the chance to explore that, all the things it made him wonder about. Instead he settles on, “I think I could’ve learned a lot from you…”

If Steve really wanted to torture himself he’d give into his imagination, picture Eddie standing beside him with a comforting hand on his shoulder and replying We could’ve, like he knows everything Steve’s not saying and feels the same. Steve can practically feel the touch, hear his voice, could just about convince himself of it if he was enough of a masochist to. He has to glance at his shoulder, has to put his own hand there just to check for sure, to remind himself that there’s no one there. It’s just wishful thinking. He shakes his head and returns his attention to the headstone. 

His throat feels tight. “You shouldn’t have died, man,” he mutters. “You just shouldn’t have. I told you- I told you 'don't try to be cute or be a hero,’ didn't I? But you did it anyways. You did anyways and now look at you. Being dead isn't cute, Eddie, it just isn't.” 

Steve's voice cracks, eyes stinging. He takes a deep breath and presses the heels of his palms against his closed eyelids. He needs to pull himself together. He didn't come here to bare his soul to a chunk of stone for some guy he honestly didn't really know. What ifs don't mean shit to the dead; it's only the living they haunt. It’s only himself who’s here to hear it.

“Well,” he exhales heavily, swallowing down his emotion. He scrubs off the last remaining paint from the stone and sits back on his heels. “At least your grave is all shiny and clean now. That’s something, right? You’re welcome, by the way. My work here is done.” Collecting his cleaning supplies, he gets to his feet, hesitating for a second. Silly as it sounds, he feels like he should say some sort of goodbye before he heads off, like it would be rude not to. “I’ll, uh-” He pats the top of the gravestone, only a little awkwardly. “I’ll see you around, Munson.” 

As he turns to leave, Steve could almost swear this time he really does hear Eddie’s voice, a whispery echo following him from the graveyard. See ya, Stevie. Don't be a stranger.

[thebest-medicine]

Deku’s Damn Smile

MHA - BakuDeku - lee!midoriya, ler!bakugo, brief ler!class 1A, adorable ticklish dork deku - [read on ao3]

Summary: In which Bakugo slowly becomes more and more enamored with Izuku’s smile… 

A/N: I like them so much your honor! AHHH! written in the form of little snippets of time

Words: 1.4k 

…

Whenever Bakugo brought his dorm room trash through the building to take outside late in the day, he typically didn’t expect to encounter much on his short journey. Maybe a movie night in the common room or a few students up late studying, never really much noise.

This evening, however, as soon as Bakugo opens his door, he hears a piercing shriek coming down the hall. Then, wild, cackling laughter. His face warms as he realizes he recognizes it right away. Izuku.

He drops the bag back into his freshly changed trash can, closes his door quietly, and turns in the direction of the commotion.

The sound of the familiar, bubbly laughter draws his steps forward, quickening their pace as he approaches the common room. 

“Oi!” Bakugo enters with a quizzical scowl that quickly transforms to an expression between pleased and confused, maybe with a little hint of jealousy in the mix. “What, you guys tickling the poor nerd to death without me?” 

“Kacchahahahan?” Izuku squeals just as Shoji wraps a second set of arms around Izuku’s elbows to help keep his arms pinned up over his head, just in time for Kaminari to dig his fingers into Midoriya’s armpits. “Guhuhuhuhuys nohohoho!”

They’re in a misshapen heap on the floor, the lot of them. Shoji is laying back with Midoriya pulled against his chest, holding him now at wrist and elbow to keep his arms up. His third set of arms appear lower, pinching around the backs of Izuku’s lower ribs. Denki has a wild grin on his face as he reaches in and tickles under his arms. Kirishima has a rock-solid grip on one of Deku’s ankles and is tickling away at his undocked foot. Mina and Ochaco are struggling with the other leg, squeezing at his knee and calf and occasionally down to his foot. They’re basically laying across him, trying to hold back the squealing, giggling, ticklish hero-in-training. 

Mina reaches up, frustrated with the amount of squirming his leg is doing, and pokes a few times into his stomach, near his bellybutton. Midoriya shouts out another cackling laugh. 

He’s practically hypnotized by the sight when Katsuki hears. “Kacchahahan heheheheheehe- hehehehehelp!”

Bakugo smirks then, finding his footing again. “Heh, oh you know I’m gonna help.” 

“Nononononono! Wahahahait!” Deku cackles in protest as Katsuki approaches the pile of students on the floor with an eager, mildly evil grin on his face. With a crack of his knuckles, Kacchan takes his place at Izuku’s side with wiggling fingers.

…

“Alright, seriously, what’s wrong with you?” 

Izuku’s forehead wrinkles in concern. “What are you talking about?” 

“Come on, you always come at problems with a smile on your face. You’re scowling right now.”

Izuku softens. “I’m just taking the assignment seriously.”

“I’m serious too. Don’t make me make you.” 

Midoriya turned to look at him, frustrated with wide eyes. “Make me what?” 

“Smile.” Katsuki replied as though it was obvious.

“What, are you gonna tell me a joke? Come on Kacchan, seriously, we have a time limit to get this done.” 

“Oh I know. Won’t take long.” He flexes his fingers and reaches out toward Midoriya, who flinches with a familiar jolt of recognition. 

“Wait…Kacchan, y-you don’t mean—”

Bakugo smirks at him and pushes in closer, bringing hands in to connect with Izuku’s sides. They tickle and poke and prod into the sensitive muscle there, and Deku can’t do much other than fold. He wheezes out a laugh as he crumbles inward from the tickling. 

Bakugo follows with ease. “See, there it is!” 

“Ahaha- Kacchahahahahan! Quihihihit it! Nohohoho—” Midoriya gasps through his surprised laughter. His eyes are squeezed shut tightly as he contorts in on himself; he wears a red blush high on his cheeks and a wide grin on his face. 

“See? Easy.” Katsuki backs off a few long seconds later, reaching a hand down to help Deku up. “Alright, now that that’s settled, let’s win this.” 

“W-why… did you.?” Izuku whines with a giggle.

“Oh come on, you know you plan better when you’re smiling and not all in your head.” Bakugo offers as though it’s an obvious answer. “Now what’re you thinking?” 

“Oh, heh- well, uh.. thanks then? I guess.” Izuku shrugs, blush still pink on his cheeks. “Anyway, what I was thinking was we could—” And as he continued explaining, they could both tell Bakugo had been right.

…

Izuku’s mind is so wrapped up in his current thoughts that he almost smacks right into Bakugo in the middle of the hall, stopping short when he hears. “Hey, nerd. What’s eating at you?”

“What?” Midoriya blinks, looks up.

“You’re walking around with a scowl on your face.” Bakugo observes. “Trying to copy my look?” 

“Huh? No, of course not Kacchan. I was just…” Midoriya deflates a little. “Thinking about stuff.” 

“Well, then do it with a smile on your face like you usually do!”

“Wha-” Izuku stops, turning to look at him. Just then, Katsuki reaches out to tweak his side. Izuku squeals, choking back a sudden laugh. “Hey!” 

“There. That’s better.” Bakugo shrugs with a sly grin. “Much more like you.” 

“Kacchan, what are you—”

“Hey.” Another squeeze to his side and Izuku squawks. “You wipe that stupid smile off your face and I’ll really get you, got it?” 

“Wha?” Izuku blushes, his smile morphing into a nervous grin.

“I’m serious.”

Izuku continues to smile as Katsuki walks on by, both unaware of the flutter of butterflies in the other’s stomach from the interaction.

…

On the first free evening of the weekend, Midoriya and Bakugo find themselves watching an old All Might film, cozy on their respective ends of the couch in the dorm. The movie is loud. The smell of fresh popcorn hangs in the air. Izuku sniffles slightly on the other end of the couch—

“Oi, what are you crying about over there?”

“T-This is a really sad part..” 

“Okay, first of all, it’s a movie.” Bakugo rolls his eyes, kneeing his own leg into Izuku’s. “Plus, it’s an All Might movie! He’s always smiling even if shit’s sad, don’t you wanna make that part of your hero schtick too?” Kacchan teases, nudging more at Izuku’s foot that is draped toward him across the cushions. He gets an idea. 

Smirking, Katsuki reaches over and grabs onto Midoriya’s ankle, towing it in a little closer.

“H-Hey, what are you doing?” Izuku’s eyes flicker from Kacchan’s wrist to his face. He wipes the tears from his cheek as a nervous smile grows on his face.

“Cheering you up, nerd.” Katsuki smirks back at him. “You’re welcome.” 

Izuku crumbles into giggles right away. “Wait! Kacchahahaha- nohohohoho! We’re gonna mihihihiss the moviehehehehehee!”

“Relax, we can rewind.” 

“Nahahahaha Kacchan! Eheheehehee quihihihihit it!” Deku pleads through his soft giggling as Bakugo scratches gently up and down the trapped sole of his foot. 

“You done crying?” 

“Yehehehehehes!” 

“Good.” Katsuki pats his foot twice and then releases him.

“Ehehe- my foot’s all tihihingly now.” Midoriya whines, rubbing his sole against the couch. 

“Here, let me—”

“—No! You’ve helped enough!” Izuku cuts him off with a panicked little laugh. 

“Shut up, nerd. I won’t tickle you.” 

“I hehehe- I don’t know if yohohou can help it.” 

Bakugo stops, raising an eyebrow at him. “What’s that supposed to mean?” 

“Ehehe- nothing.” Izuku giggles, blushing. “Just- you’ve been tickling me a lot more lately, and—”

Bakugo cuts him off with a scoff, a blush rising on his face before he mumbles out. “Not my fault you’re so ticklish..”

“It’s alright I… I don’t mind that much.” Izuku holds his hands up defensively with a smile, the movie long forgotten. “And it’s been- you’ve been kinda… almost sweet about it lately, too, ya know?” 

“—What?” Katsuki scoffs. “Shut up!”

“Like, every time, you said it’s because you’re trying to get me to smile or something..” Izuku continues bashfully. 

Katsuki holds a stare for as long as he can before he ducks his head with his own warm blush. His legs fidget and squirm along the couch, until Izuku pushes his foot against Bakugo’s knee and grounds him. 

“Don’t get all sappy on me, idiot.” Katsuki protests, but his voice is soft, quiet. A few beats of blushing silence follow before he continues. “We missed like 15 minutes of the movie, where’s the remote anyway?” 

“I think I might’ve kicked it off…oops.” Izuku laughs before leaning over the edge of the couch to look for it. 

Bakugo watches him, fond expression hidden as Midoriya looks under the couch. He knows he’ll probably get the urge to see the nerd smile again soon.

[eggcats]

Radioapple fic, where after it's revealed that Pentious was redeemed, Heaven sends some angels (including some of Lucifer's own family) down to check out this Hazbin Hotel. (common fic theme)

And Lucifer is STRESSED. He hasn't seen any of his family in millennia, and they absolutely did not part on good terms. Especially because now he has to make as good of an impression as he can because he will NOT be the cause of Charlie's dreams failing.

Anyway, one of Lucifer’s estranged family arrives and they have absolutely NOTHING good to say about the hotel, it's people, or even hell itself. Insulting the decor, how it looks, being like "You got kicked out for free will and THIS is what they do with it? Ugh." and the like.

Lucifer is trying to keep himself together for Charlie's sake. (He's only had 3 breakdowns today, he's doing good!)

However, the last thing he expects is Alastor coming to his defense. Alastor looks at this shitty relative of Lucifer’s and is immediately like, "How DARE you? Antagonizing this angel is MY JOB, and I don't send him into hysterics, I send him into MUSICAL NUMBERS. Get out of my hotel immediately." But, obviously, he can't SAY that (for many reasons, the least of which is that Charlie needs them here for her redemption project).

So instead, he just picks at everything they say. "Hmmmmm, yes, but we at least chose to do this with this, free will you're insulting. What's your excuse for that eyesore youre wearing, hmmm?"

Alastor goes as far as to defend Lucifer’s choices in decor in the hotel, and Lucifer is completely confused because he and Alastor literally fought the day before about that SAME decor??

(The second the angel leaves Alastor turns to him and goes "They're right, you know, that is the ugliest interior design I've ever seen," and then DISAPPEARS before Lucifer can even respond. What the hell?!)

Alastor is not ignorant of toxic family dynamics, and while part of his initial issues with Lucifer stemmed from his belief in him being a deadbeat father, actually knowing him kind of changes his thoughts on this. It's a little telling that Charlie has been (apparently) attempting to contact her mother during her 7 year disappearance and has heard nothing, but the father who (she believed) thinks she's a failure shows up within an hour of her calling him ONCE. And then he does whatever he can to help her dreams, and the second she implies she wants him around more, he MOVES IN. It's kind of hard to continue thinking that LUCIFER is the toxic parent in the family dynamic, after all this.

(He still fights him, though, because it's fun to tell the most powerful being in hell his choice of interior design is ugly. If Alastor kind of doesn't go for the throat in all of Lucifer’s insecurities anymore, no one needs to acknowledge that.)

So, during the entire Heaven tour, Alastor is strongly in the "form a united front" boat. He can and WILL come out of the shadows for a sarcastic quip that simultaneously shuts them down AND makes Lucifer feel better.

(Alastor will NOT acknowledge the anger that goes through him at the idea of someone other than him picking at Lucifer, especially when they are CLEARLY trying to send him into a breakdown. How dare they. *cough* Anyway.)

So the whole ordeal winds up not as stressful as Lucifer was dreading, because somehow he has an antagonistic cannibal deer defending him the entire time. And Lucifer has no idea HOW that happened, but it does kind of make him feel better. (And Alastor's form of mocking him does, too, somehow.)

When they're alone, however, Alastor still picks at him so they can fight. (And Lucifer didn't notice until now how much FUN he has fighting with Alastor, and that Alastor insulting him makes him want to do better and prove him wrong, unlike his visiting family that makes him want to lock himself away for a decade.)

The tour ends, and Alastor and Lucifer go back to how they were before. (Sort of. Lucifer might be re-evaluating every interaction they've ever had and might send himself into a mild crisis.)