On this blog, there'll be fanfictions, oneshots, drabbles and all sorts of yapping related to that
HERE you can find my Masterlist, collecting all my relevant works
Little tag legend for my blog
#dotwrites - my own works
#dotrecs - tag i'll use to sort reblogged fics that aren't mine
#dotyaps - my own posts that aren't stories
#dottips - writing tips or similar
#dotbs - random memes and other bs
#(fandom/nsfw/sfw/etc) - speaks for itself i think
Disclaimer: the things i write are just for funsies as i don't really intend to become an author or pursue a career in something literature related, so pls don't take them too serious
Also english is not my native language so feel free to correct me on grammar or spelling, i'm always eager to improve my English skills :)
Anywayyyyys i hope ya'll will like the stories i'll post and enjoy your stay on my blog
feeling guilty over not working on your fic is so silly if you think about like why are you stressing over the hobby you do in your free time for fun lol wip not whip
getting scambot messages from random accounts that clearly used to be normal active blogs is sad enough. you know that there used to be a real person on that blog until they were tricked into handing their password to the digital fae.
but it's an entirely new level of tragic when somebody you've actually spoken to gets turned into a bot account. it's like peeking at a zombie apocalypse through the window and realizing one of the shambling corpses was your friend.
and then the zombie catches sight of you, lurches up to your window, and shouts through the glass that they accidentally reported your account to tumblr and you'll be deactivated unless you click this link.
RIP to the blog that used to DM me to tell me they liked my new chapters. Their last known words spoken before being turned, 17 hours ago: "Ggs!" They were praising someone's deadlift.
the message they tried to get me with is probably the same message that got them, so for anybody who hasn't already been warned about the signs of a zombie account:
if you get something like this ↑ they're gonna follow up by instructing you to contact tumblr support on discord and give you contact info; or they're gonna link a website that looks sort of like tumblr support and say you have to email them; or any variety of "you must now contact tumblr, here is how you contact tumblr."
whatever they send you, it Does Not lead to tumblr. it leads to the master zombie that bit them and inducted them into the ranks of the undead, and will bite you the second they have your email and password. i might be confusing zombies and vampires. anyway,
it's easier to fall for these messages because the blog doesn't LOOK like a bot blog, because it ISN'T a bot blog. it's a normal person's blog that got accessed by a bot, meaning the blog's content CLEARLY looks like a real active user when you click on it. and yes—it might even be a blog you already know. sometimes bots like this go down a blog's DMs or reblogs and message people they've previously interacted with.
they got one of my treasured followers, and they can get you too. don't fall for their tricks. know the signs.
Nothing hurts my spirit more than finding a fic and being fucking obsessed with it and it having amazing writing and vibes and then you get deeper into it and only after your emotionally invested does the author reveal this is the oc they come up with when they were like ten who broke every law of the canon universe to be the most powerful pick me in this fanfic and they won’t acknowledge or address in the story or in notes how much what they’ve done completely ruins the entire point of the thing they’re writing fanfic of.
(I was betrayed by an amazingly written fic tens of thousands of words in just now that turned out to be hiding the biggest crock of oc pick me, my oc is god tier bullshit ever)
its 2026 i cannot handle any more fucking "author A obviously ripped off author B" discourse by people Who Have Only Seen the work of author B and admit themselves that they have no further knowledge of the literary landscape they are moving in. like.
A/N- Well hello to everyone with the second fiction of Appreciation Series !!! I really wanted to do a justice for my girl, Grace , even though we haven't seen her yet actually in game and I know that we don't know her that much. The fiction includes the things that are seemed true for me.
We all know that especially after her mother, she is much more anxious than ever, no one to hold my little baby 😭🫂 And it's so terrible that almost no one wants Grace in this game??? I literally saw a person commenting on a RE fan account that she wants Grace to die and want to play as Leon. Like this is her game???? If you don't want her, then don't play???
Okay, look I get it. Grace is a new character and all, we don't know her, she's not enough blah blah blah BUT so are the ones who judge her the way she is. They would probably be scared like her If they were in her shoes.
Anyways I'm so sorry lmao. I just love her just like I love Leon, what can I say 😬
CW- mentions of anxiety, sweat (does that count as a warning? Idk you guys glalflsldfq) , If I need to add more, please let me know 🫂
On a cold afternoon after school, you step into a small café just to grab a coffee before heading home. The place smells warm and inviting—fresh coffee mixed with cinnamon, nutmeg, and all kinds of spices sprinkled into different drinks. It felt comforting, grounding.
You ordered your usual, the one you always get when you need a moment to breathe, and looked around for somewhere to sit. The café was crowded. The only empty spot was a small table meant for two. You took it anyway, not planning to stay long—just enough to rest your feet, warm your hands around the cup.
As you settled down, the café door opened again.
A blonde girl rushed inside, slightly out of breath.
“One pumpkin spice latte, please,” she said quickly.
Your eyes met for a brief second.
Her hair was damp with sweat, strands sticking to her forehead, her cheeks flushed a deep red. She looked embarrassed almost immediately, lowering her gaze and turning her head away as soon as the order was placed. She grabbed her drink, clearly in a hurry.
You tried not to stare, focusing instead on your own coffee and your phone. Still, the moment lingered.
Just as the blonde girl reached the door, she suddenly freezed. As if remembering something important, she turned back and digging through her bag. Her movements grew more frantic by the second. Whatever she was looking for didn't seem easy to find, and soon she was visibly stressed, heat rising to her face again.
She needed to put her bag down—but every surface was taken. She hesitated, clearly uncomfortable placing it near strangers.
Then her eyes landed on a single table.
Your table.
After a brief pause, she took a breath, walked over, shoulders tense. She leaned forward to you slightly, careful not to invade too much space.
“E-Excuse me,” she said softly. “May I sit here for a moment?"
You startled, lifting your head quickly. You hadn’t realized how deeply you’d sunk into your phone. When your eyes adjust, you recognized her—the same girl from earlier.
For a second, you didn't know what to say. Then you nodded, lowering your gaze in quiet agreement.
She sat down, placing her bag beside her chair and immediately rummaging through it again. You glanced over now and then, trying not to make her uncomfortable. Grace noticed anyway—and only grew more flustered, focusing harder on her search.
Finally, she found what she'd been looking for.
Relief spreaded across her face, a small smile appearing as she leaned back in her chair, shoulders relaxing at last.
And you found yourself looking up before you can stop it.
From the moment after she sat down, the space between you felt oddly fragile, like a single wrong movement could break whatever calm had settled over the table. Grace kept her shoulders slightly drawn in, one hand resting on her cup, the other still gripping the strap of her bag as if she might need to leave at any second.
You noticed it—the way her eyes flicker toward you and then away again, the way she pressed her lips together like she was holding back words.
You’re the one who spoke first.
“Hi,” you said gently, offering a small smile, the kind that doesn’t demand anything in return. “I’m not trying to be weird, but… do you want to sit for more than a minute? You look like you ran a marathon to get that coffee.”
Her head lifted quickly, eyes widening just a little, clearly not expecting you to start the conversation. For a second, she looked like she was searching for the right reaction.
“Oh— I—” She let out a small, nervous laugh, brushing a loose strand of blonde hair behind her ear, only for it to fall forward again. “Yeah. I mean. Thank you. I promise I’m not usually this… flustered.”
You shook your head. “You’re fine. Honestly, it’s kind of refreshing.”
That made her pause.
“Refreshing?” she repeated, tilting her head slightly, curiosity beginning to replace embarrassment.
“Yeah,” you said, leaning back a little, giving her space. “Everyone’s always pretending they have it together. It’s nice when someone doesn’t.”
Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction. You caught it—the moment she decided you’re safe.
She exhaled, long and quiet, and finally let go of her bag. “Okay,” she said softly. “That makes me feel… a lot better, actually.”
There was a small smile on her face then.
“I’m Grace,” she added, almost as an afterthought, like she was afraid of interrupting the moment by naming herself.
You told her your name, watching the way she repeated it under her breath, nodding as if it settled something in her mind.
As the conversation started to move, slowly, carefully, Grace still hesitated between sentences. She fidgeted with the cardboard sleeve around her cup, turning it over and over in her hands, glancing at you as if checking whether it was okay to keep talking.
You asked her about the pumpkin spice latte.
She laughed again, this time more openly. “It’s basic, I know. But it makes me feel like the weather and I are on the same page.”
“That’s valid,” you said, “I respect a seasonally appropriate coffee choice.”
She smiled wider at that, eyes crinkling at the corners, and something in her posture shifted—she leaned forward now, elbows resting on the table, fully present.
You talked about small things at first. School. How afternoons felt heavier when the days got shorter. How cafés like this made time feel strange, like it stretched when you didn't want it to and disappeared when you did.
At some point, Grace stopped apologizing for talking.
She gestured when she spoke now, animated, her voice warmer, steadier. She told you about how she was always late because she got distracted, how she overthought first impressions, how she didn’t expect to sit down at a stranger’s table and end up laughing.
You realized you had stopped checking your phone entirely.
So had she.
When Grace glanced out the window, you saw the shift before she said anything—the sudden tightening of her expression, the way she straightened as if remembering something.
“Oh no,” she murmured, checking the time. “I didn’t even realize…”
She looked genuinely disappointed as she meet your eyes again. “I have to go. I’m so sorry. But—” She hesitated, fingers curling around her cup one last time. “Talking to you was really nice. Like… unexpectedly nice.”
You felt the urge to hold onto the moment before it slipped away.
So you did.
You reached into your bag, scribble your number down, and slided it across the table. “Then let’s not make this the only time,” you said. “Text me whenever you want.”
Grace stared at the paper, then at you, like she was afraid it might disappear if she didn't look closely enough.
Her smile this time was soft, certain.
“I’d really like that,” she said. “I was hoping you’d say something like that.”
She stood, slower now, no longer rushing, and before she left, she looked back at you once more—eyes bright, cheeks warm, no trace of the panicked girl who walked into the café earlier.
And you knew, somehow, that this was only the beginning.
Fighting Chance - Leon giving you self-defense lessons
(Older Leon Kennedy x Female Reader)
A/N: So this is an idea I had in my mind for a long time. I first wanted to write it for younger Leon but after seeing the trailers for RE Requiem; I felt like this would suit older Leon even better. It started as a Oneshot but I have a feeling I might add a second or third part to it. As always, I hope you guys enjoy reading it. It means the world to me seeing you like, reblog or comment on my posts so thank you so much!! ✨♥️
Summary: Leon has to team up with a research scientist (You) on a new mission. When he realizes she’s not quite ready for the field, he takes it upon himself to give her some self-defense lessons…with unexpectedly close results.
Pairing: Older!Leon Kennedy x Female Reader (Research Scientist)
Warnings: Making Out, things get a tiny little bit heated but nothing explicit
Read Part 2 here
You hadn’t expected to ever end up in a situation like this. Hundreds of hours in the laboratory couldn’t have prepared you for this assignment. And yet, you had said yes. Maybe it was stupid, maybe it was genius. Maybe both.
You were an infectious disease research scientist, used to sterile labs and controlled variables, not survivor camps and armed escorts. But you were one of the best, and you had already been working in the lab with the virus that caused the most recent outbreak. That’s why they had chosen you to investigate an anomaly: a civilian at a survivor camp who had been bitten by an infected three weeks ago. Somehow, he had not mutated.
Now they wanted you to help with the research: blood samples, questioning, analyzing, monitoring. Everything you already did, just under different conditions. Very dangerous conditions.
When they told you a senior federal agent would be your field lead, you imagined someone loud, commanding, acting like the unquestioned authority of the group. Leon Kennedy was none of that.
He walked in calmly, reserved, yet with a subtle charm in his eyes. A few years older than you, with faint lines forming around the corners of his eyes. You had to admit… he was very handsome.
“Leon Kennedy,” he said, introducing himself and offering his hand. You returned the handshake, and he held your gaze for a few moments, appraising but not unkindly.
“So we should get started right away. We don’t really have much time,” he said. You followed him down the hallway. He walked a few steps ahead, already scanning the area as if it were enemy territory.
He glanced back at you as he spoke. “Have you ever worked outside a lab environment, under pressure?”
“Yes, but not… THIS kind of pressure,” you answered honestly.
“Do you know how to recognize early signs of mutation or infection in the field?”
“Elevated body temperature, sudden abnormal heart rate…” you began, but he interrupted.
“We don’t have time to take their temperature or hook them up to an EKG,” he said, his tone a little rough. “I mean early signs you can see. You need to get a feel for it. You’re used to lab results… now you need to discover it differently.”
You nodded in understanding. “Well… skin changes to redness or a bluish tint. Muscle twitches. Slight stiffness. Pupils reacting unevenly. Uncoordinated movements. Behavioral shifts, irritability, mild disorientation,” you listed.
He seemed satisfied. “Can I count on you to act only on my instructions?”
“Yes.”
“Even if you don’t agree with them?”
You paused. “I guess so,” you said.
He stopped and looked at you. “That’s not a real answer.”
“I meant yes,” you corrected yourself, meeting his gaze.
After a while, you finally arrived at the camp.
“So… do I pass the entrance exam?” you asked, a small smile on your face, trying to lighten the mood.
Leon glanced at you, eyebrow slightly raised. “Barely. You’re cutting it close.”
“Cutting it close? That doesn’t sound very reassuring.”
He shook his head, lips twitching at the corner. “But realistic.”
You smiled. “So… I have a fighting chance?”
“Fighting chance,” he confirmed, tone flat. “Mostly because I’ll be watching.”
You laughed softly. “Good to know I have a personal bodyguard, then.”
Leon’s smirk deepened, but he didn’t answer, he just turned back to the hallway, letting the tension hang in the air.
Weeks passed in a rhythm of short, intense field assignments followed by long nights back at the camp. Each day, you observed the survivor, collected samples, and documented every detail, while Leon moved through the camp with the practiced precision of someone who had seen it all. He seemed to have everything under control.
Even with the clear division of roles, a rhythm emerged. Brief exchanges, him asking for a sample, you pointing out an anomaly, small smiles, and the occasional shared laugh over minor frustrations slowly chipped away at the professional distance.
He slowly started to open up, asking small personal questions here and there. You even found yourself enjoying the occasional cringey dad joke he slipped in.
Leon had to admit, he liked you. He hadn’t expected to actually grow close to a civilian researcher. But you did well. He often observed you when you weren’t looking. He liked that you stayed calm and collected. You weren’t naive, and yet you always seemed to have a subtle, sassy comeback when talking to him. And yes, he quite enjoyed that. Maybe a little too much.
The only thing that worried him was your physical readiness. You weren’t always aware of your surroundings, and he knew you wouldn’t be able to protect yourself if things went south. So one day he decided to give you some basic training lessons.
“You… what?” you asked, flabbergasted.
“Tomorrow, after your shift, I’ll show you some basic self-defense skills,” he said dryly while sipping his coffee.
You swallowed. That was definitely not what you had expected.
The next day you and Leon met at a nondescript looking building in the city. You were kind of nervous. You didn’t know if it was because of the ongoing mission or the fact that you were going to be completely alone with him for the first time. With a lot of physical touch. Suddenly you felt like a teenager again with some sort of butterflies in your stomach. Goddamn, you wanted to slap yourself.
You made your way to the training room. The walls were lined with padded mats, and a few practice weapons rested in the corner.
Leon leaned casually against the wall, wearing a fitted dark T-shirt that highlighted his broad shoulders and toned arms, black tactical pants, and sturdy boots. A few cuts and scars ran over his arms, clearly indicating that all that wasn’t theory to him.
The sight of him made your stomach tighten even more.
“We’ll start slow,” he announced as he made his way over to you. “I’ll show you defensive stance, awareness, and basic self-defense.”
You looked up at him as if he was speaking a foreign language.
“But I’m not….”
“An agent or a soldier. I know that. And I won’t make one of you. But you need to learn some sort of… self-defense. At least some basics,” he explained, and before you could say anything else, he was already behind you.
“Okay,” you whispered, almost in an anticipating way.
Leon knew this was probably a bad idea. Well… definitely a bad idea. You were supposed to be just a civilian researcher. Nothing more. And yet, here he was, worrying about your safety. About you. Nothing he would put a label on, but enough to make him break a few hundred rules just by standing here.
And now you were standing in front of him, only dressed in some workout leggings and a top that showed too much but not enough at the same time.
He wasn’t twenty anymore, but he wasn’t that old to not react to you either. Your body, your smile, your remarks, just… you. You did something to him.
He slowly placed his hands on your hips, while adjusting your foot stance with his own feet.
“Feet shoulder-width, knees slightly bent, weight on the balls of your feet. Hands up, elbows in, protect your face and torso,” he explained, and you did what he said.
“Like this?” you asked, trying to find the right stance.
“Almost,” he murmured while adjusting your arms.
You felt his breath on your neck, sending shivers down your spine. You prayed he didn’t notice it, but you were sure he already did.
“You’re too tense,” he said, slowly removing his hands from you.
“Just… a little nervous,” you said and watched as he positioned himself in front of you.
“I hope you know I won’t hurt you,” he said, studying your face for any sign of discomfort.
“No… of course. I know that,” you said.
He nodded and then showed you the next step.
“I will grab you, and I want you to show me how you’d react normally. How you’d try to escape,” he said.
Your initial thought was: Well, first of all, I don’t want to escape. But of course, you kept that to yourself. You simply nodded. Then he grabbed you, pulling you toward him while keeping his hold firm but controlled.
“Now react,” he murmured, his voice low and calm. “Show me what you’d do if someone grabbed you unexpectedly.”
You swallowed hard, forcing your mind to focus. Instinctively, you twisted your body, pushing against his chest and shoulders, trying to create space. He let you move, adjusting his grip to give just enough resistance to make it realistic.
“Not too bad,” he said, stepping back slightly. He then showed you the right way to do it, repeating it over and over again.
“Okay,” he said after a short break.
“There will be opponents who are stronger, larger, and heavier than you. That means you need to know a way to take them down somehow,” he started.
“I’m going to come at you. Don’t try to overpower me. Use my momentum.Keep your grip on my arm, step in close, turn your body, and pull. Don’t let go of my arm, that’s what throws me off balance. I’ll go down on my own,” he explained.
You sighed a little, clearly overwhelmed.
“Just try it,” he said reassuringly, and you agreed.
He stepped forward, neither fast nor slow. Enough to be real.
“Now,” he prompted.
You reacted on instinct. Your hand closed around his forearm, fingers tightening more out of surprise than confidence. You stepped to the side like he’d shown you, turning your hips, pulling down and away.
For a split second, it worked.
Then everything happened at once.
You fell backward as he instinctively tried to brace the fall, one arm sliding behind your back to soften the impact. He landed half on top of you, one hand still at your back, the other braced beside your shoulder.
One of his legs was draped over yours.
If the moment hadn’t been so intense, it might have been comical. But neither of you laughed. You were both breathing heavily, eyes locked on each other, the space between you suddenly charged with something neither of you had planned for.
“I guess…” you said quietly, still catching your breath, “I failed that one.”
His expression softened, just a little.
“You made me lose my balance,” he replied. “I’d say that earns you at least some points.”
You both laughed at his corny attempt at humor, soft, slightly breathless laughs, yet neither of you moved. He was still there, warm and solid, far too close to ignore.
His gaze flicked to your lips for just a second before returning to your eyes.
“This is the part,” he said quietly, voice lower now, “where I should say this isn’t appropriate… and that we should stop.”
Your heart was racing so loudly you were sure he could hear it. You could feel your pulse in your ears.
“And do you,” you whispered, “think it’s wrong?”
“Absolutely.”
“So… we stop?”
He hesitated, just long enough to betray himself.
“Absolutely not,” he said. “Not… if you don’t want me to.”
The words left his mouth before he could stop them. The careful, disciplined agent, the one who never crossed lines, was gone. He wanted to allow himself this one moment with you. Just this time.
Your lips met in a hungry kiss. It wasn’t slow or careful.
His hand that had been laying on your back found its way to the back of your head, fingers tangling lightly in your hair, while his other hand rested on your hip.
He groaned into the kiss as you arched your back almost instinctively into him.
This wasn’t supposed to happen. He knew that. He was too experienced, too controlled to lose himself like this, but he couldn’t stop. Not when you were moaning so sweetly for him. Not when you were looking at him the way that you did. Not when you were losing your breath because of him.
He shifted his weight slightly so you could feel how his body reacted to yours, the thin fabric not leaving anything to your imagination.
While you continued kissing, he slowly lifted your leg a little, pulling you closer.
“Leon…,” you breathed.
You both were turned on badly, knowing exactly where this was heading.
His lips traced along your jaw before slowly slipping his hands under your shirt.
“You feel… perfect,” he praised softly, causing you to blush a little.
His eyes remained on you, studying your face.
“Tell me if this is too…,” he started, but then his phone buzzed. Of course it did. Perfect moment.
You both groaned in unison. He pushed himself up, already reaching for the phone on the counter. He was back in agent mode.
“Yes?” he said.
A pause.
“Understood. We’ll be right back,” he answered and lowered his phone, looking at you.
“We’re needed back at the camp,” he said, already moving, voice steady but firm.
You nodded, pushing yourself up just as quickly. No hesitation.
He paused at the door, glancing back at you once more. The look lingered, heavier than words.
“We’ll talk later.”
As you followed him out into the night, the air between you felt charged, something dangerous, something unresolved. The mission wasn’t over. And neither was whatever had started between you.
the thing is when people say a specific fanfic trope comes from supernatural they usually mean "it was invented by the supernatural fandom in a fanfic". on the other hand, when people say a specific fanfic trope comes from star trek, they mean "it was the plot of at least one star trek episode"
The best thing about being a Whattpad reader back in the day was reading the comments people left on certain paragraphs within the story. That shit had me on the floor laughing in tears.
i just started watching Lucifer, because he's so delightfully funny, annnd
i've reached episode 9, and i can't help but wonder:
-> is Lucifer like- genuinely attracted to anyone in the sexual sense?
like... he acts on other people's attraction to him before making a move, or he waits until Maze [gorgeous, gorgeous lady btw] brings someone to him
↑ he never actually seeks out a partner, he just waits until someone approaches
in fact, the only person he seems genuinely interested in at all is Chloe
Hey, so I have another Lucifer x reader request, which i would like to share. If it's okay, could I please request a Lucifer x reader where the reader has escaped from being kidnapped and they go to Lucifer's residence and soon after he answers the door, the reader passes out in his embrace. (Maybe they have a love/hate relationship but the reader knows that they are safe with him)
Sorry if this sounds a bit silly, I hope you have a great day.
Note: requests are currently closed
Doesn't sound silly at all anon! Thanks for sending it in and I hope you like the fic :)
Title: Trust
Warnings: descriptions of blood and injuries
You winced as you slumped against the wall of lift and looked down at your hand. You slowly sunk to the floor, your hand stained red with your blood. You shut your eyes as you rested your head against the wall.
You were a fucking idiot.
Stupid, stupid, stupid idiot.
You were old enough to know better. You should’ve known better. Why couldn’t you see it? You were lucky to get away with your life and that thought unnerved you. While you were technically mortal you were still very long lived and it was difficult to kill you.
You shouldn’t have underestimated those brothers.
You looked up weakly as the lift came to a shuddering stop and the doors opened. You shut your eyes at the familiar smug face of Lucifer and as you did, you missed the way the smirk instantly fell from his face. You heard the gasps of the humans who were with him and you couldn’t help but smile weakly.
Aww, did you ruin his evening?
Good.
“Sorry ladies,” said Lucifer, “seems like something else has come up.”
“Is she dead?” asked one of the women
Ugh, you could practically picture how she was looking at him. The fake concern laced her voice and you knew that she would be wrapping her arms around him. She wasn’t actually concerned about you, just annoyed that her evening with Lucifer was put to a halt. Pathetic.
“No, no, just a… mild practical joke that my friend,” you cringed at the word, “thinks is funny. Now run along. I’m sure Maze would be more than happy to take care of you.”
You opened your eyes as you heard the click of heels walking away and the mutter of annoyed voices. Lucifer knelt down to your level and said,
“Darling, what happened.”
“I started my period.”
“Oh really? Well that explains the mess.”
“Lucifer Morningstar not into blood play. You do shock me.”
You finally locked gazes with Lucifer. Despite the causal, almost friendly tone of his voice you could’ve sworn you saw a hint of concern in his eyes. However, as quickly as it happened it disappeared.
“Are you going to explain why you're getting blood all over my lift?”
You tried to sit up and let out a cry of pain. You didn’t mean to. You didn’t want to show any weakness in front of Lucifer. He’d probably just hold this over your head. However, and much to your surprise, he scooped you up into his arms. You rested your head against his chest, shutting your eyes at the sound of his heartbeat.
“Oh no, love,” Lucifer said, “don’t shut your eyes on me.”
“Why? Worried I might slip away?”
Lucifer’s silence told you much more than you wanted to know. You weakly opened your eyes, feeling uncomfortable in the silence. Lucifer gently put you down on his sofa. He was being far more gentle with you than you were expecting.
“Two hunters,” you said quietly, “I let my guard down for a second and then this,” you waved at your abdomen, “happened.”
“Hunters. Getting sloppy, darling.”
“Well there were two of them. Brothers I think…”
“Brothers,” Lucifer raised his eyebrows, “I believe one of my more impressionable younger brothers is involved with two hunters.”
“Do all celestial beings have shitty tastes in friends?”
“Does that include you?”
“I don’t know? Are we friends?”
You locked gazes briefly with Lucifer before quickly looking away. It was moments like these that you hated. Moments where you weren’t sure where you stood with him. Were you enemies, friends, or something else entirely.
And that latter thought scared you. It was something that you didn’t want to admit, both to yourself and especially to Lucifer. You could feel your eyes droop shut again as Lucifer lightly slapped your cheek.
“Don’t,” he said firmly, “remember what I said.”
“Don’t like being disobeyed, do you?” you muttered weakly, “well tough. I’m not dying. I’m just resting.”
It was true. You could feel your body start the long process of mending itself. Smaller cuts and scrapes you could brush off easily but this was something different. You settled back against the sofa, mentally preparing yourself for the long road ahead. You were going to be stuck here for at least a day and knowing Lucifer as well as you did, you knew that he wasn’t going to let this go easily.
Lucifer sighed as he watched your unconscious form. You always had the annoying habit of turning up just when he least wanted it. What was meant to be a pleasurable evening had been turned on its head. Although he was secretly glad to see you again despite your differences.
“Why,” he asked to himself softly, “why did you come to me.”
“Trust.”
One word. Spoke so softly that for a moment Lucifer wondered if he misheard, even though he knew that he hadn’t. He smiled faintly to himself, wondering if you would remember saying that in the morning.
Probably not.
He stood up and looked down at you. He was going to have fun with this in the morning.
