was thinking about how depending on your route vicky and lane could be considered sister-in-laws which led to these thoughts on family dinners:
david: azrael is surprisingly nice to audrey (definitely likes her more than david). goes okay until he asks when they’re having children (david tries to murder him)
war/hunger: one of them is third-wheeling. who invited shephamalum? morta is hiding under the table
astaroth: christopher keeps telling embarrassing stories. bonus points if mimi is dating christopher
dino: most awkward dinner ever. fencio and rebecca are either ignoring each other or arguing the whole time. winchesto is assigned as the peacemaker
mimi: best in-laws ever. mammon started singing hours ago and no one can stop him. eliza is face-palming, rebecca wants to leave
cain: abel definitely gatecrashed their dinner, cain is trying to get him to go away, lane has given up
malbonte: 'you had to choose that one' - rebecca and shephamalum
raphael: invites the astreans because they are their family 🥹
sorry i killed your dad club: lucifer, dmitry, anna
Reading HS3 these past days has honestly been pretty fun, taken, some parts are better than others, but I finished the chapters with a good taste left in my mouth.
And then I opened my phone and everyone hated it damn. 😭
It is definitely flawed don't get me wrong, especially on the HSR front the ending was a bit of a mess and then Lane's story seems pretty lost rn since her whole purpose as a character with the book is done. ABH I really loved and Audrey's character change is simply delicious I can't wait to read her arc finding her old self again.
My main disagreement with people's criticism is the behaviour of the LIs in HS3. I think that sometimes people may be more interested in the romance tropes themselves (which is totally understandable, this *is* a romance game) than to read a good story with believable and consistent characters. And on that front, I don't know why it was expected that HS3 would start after EVERYTHING that happened on the finales and every relationship would be the same after going through all that. Audrey is only an echo of herself after DYING and her LIs are riddled with guilt, so no there will be no heartfelt reunions.
Lane I actually kinda agree with the criticism bc a lot of things don't make sense (like her wiping everyone out and then everyone magically reappearing, what is that all about) but still it would be a little natural that her lis won't be as comfortable as before with her right away (especially on Devil's Cruel Whisper).
And then -maybe the most irritating one- why y'all expected Malbonte and Vicky's relationship to be lovey dovey after he FREED THE DEVIL AND BETRAYED HER FOR THE SECOND TIME is actually beyond me. Yes it's frustrating, yes it's angsty but that's the point. He can't just get away with being terrible. Vicky is supposed to have her own morals, she's supposed to be conflicted with her love for him and no that is not something that is ever solved as long as he continues to put his goals above all else, which he DID in HS2. I don't really think there was progress that was reverted, I think they have a messy relationship, they have always had a messy relationship, they will always have one and that nuance is the BEST part. There's like a ridiculous amount of other lis in HS to satisfy our sweet cravings, but Malbonte and Vicky were never meant to have a happily ever after. Such is the nature of their relationship.
“You would think from non canon ships Mimi and Felonia would be more popular by now since they seem to be connected in the story and have had exchanges. But no. You will find Mimi with David, Lucifer, Cassiel, even Livius, then Felonia with Mikael or Malak Iwonder why”
advent calendar prompts: 1. sitting by the fireplace & 5. gift giving
- after the traditional christmas festivities, vicky and her husband are finally able to share a quiet evening together; however, there is a creature stirring (not a mouse).
(this is highly self-indulgent, so you have been warned! i wanted a cozy, domestic moment between these bozos before all hell inevitably breaks loose.)
divider credit/credit.
“Why don’t you check under the love seat?” Vicky suggests, her eyes silken, their natural sheen enhanced by the firelight.
Lucifer quirks a brow. He pauses kneading her legs, their velvet exterior draped across his lap. Taut muscles yielded to his sweeping caresses minutes prior, a cumulative release that influences her dream-like state.
The crackling flames hold the privilege of witnessing the pair drift into the night atop their comically large, gaudy rug. Quite a spectacle, considering they rarely have a moment to themselves; certainly not after an arduous day of holiday preparations and responsibilities.
A satiated ache resides in their bellies from the sumptuous feast picked clean over the course of the afternoon. Cinnamon, clove, and nutmeg continue to form a coating over their sense of smell. It’s reminiscent of something simpler, familiar.
She inhales, content.
“What have you done?” he teases, glancing between her lax posture and the piece of furniture. She shrugs in response, propping herself up, languidly moving her body off his.
Unconvinced, he shakes his head and scoots toward the quilt veiling the couch. Once he lifts its edge, he reaches underneath and pulls out a small black box.
Before peeling the lid back and revealing its contents, Lucifer rings it like a bell and presses it close to his ear.
Vicky laughs. “Sorry to break it to you, bud, but you can’t hear the ocean with it.”
He shoots her a quizzical look, deciding it’s not important to have her explain further and takes off the top, noticing that it’s adorned with a red satin bow.
Inside, he sees a tiny, nondescript tunic. He draws it out and puts it on display, turning it every which way to make sure he’s not missing anything. She watches him curiously, wondering if he’s putting on a show or is sincere in his bewilderment. Swallowing heat from the fire, her heart takes that courageous leap and plunges into her throat.
“Look, I know we’ve discussed participating in more dress-up time, but,” he tuts, “- and you know I’m all for showing lots of skin, but this is a bit impossible. Unless you intend to cut off circulation down there.”
Vicky has no choice now. She scoffs and playfully shoves his shoulder, incredulous.
“You’re impossible, I hope you realize that.” Sighing, she grabs the article of clothing from him and strategically places it over her stomach, straightening out any wrinkled patches.
A few agonizing moments pass after she does this, causing her to perspire despite having had numerous conversations about this particular topic. It’s what they want. It’s what she’s been led to believe they want, anyway.
At last, understanding softens his sharp features, and she exhales every last ounce of anxiety embedded in her system. His crimson irises seem to apprehend the hues from the hearth, eyes widening to their fullest extent.
It’s as though he’s supping these requisite bursts like tea before it grows cold and tasteless, somehow still managing to singe his tongue and steam his vision. It’s as if all of his senses are alight, vivid and expanding. His fears lounge on the roof of his scalded mouth, rubbed raw.
“Is,” Lucifer nearly chokes. “- is that why you refused to have any Glyft earlier?”
She rolls her eyes, his behavior unsurprising in the least. Nevertheless, it crawls under her skin and nags at her like an overbearing mother.
“Really?” she prompts, giving him a chance to abate the inanity pouring out of him. “Is that what you’re choosing to take away from this?”
He shakes his head vigorously, furrowing his brow. “No no, it’s just…” Time stretches too long and too thin between them. “- fuck, Rebecca is going to rip my wings out and dance on the ashes.”
Vicky’s retort would have been clear and cutting, made obvious by the twist of disgruntled vexation on her face, but she is interrupted by heedless open arms.
Picking up the petite vesture, Lucifer brings it to his chest, closes his eyes and breathes in deep. He clutches the fabric tightly against his ignited heart, wings fluttering in a pattern akin to muscle memory.
In the past, he would have left to find solitude. He would have needed time to think, alone. But he’s done too much of that already. Now is the time for company, for intimacy.
His beloved might have had more time to process this delicate information- might have had the ability to accept what is and what will be- but now she needs him and what they can build together. What their combined approaches can provide their latest journey; what discoveries will meet them along their chosen path.
Chosen.
Perhaps that is what arrests him. The revelation that he wants this for himself, for his sweetness; for who will bloom from their love.
When he looks at her again, his eyes glisten. His apprehension mingles with elation. Mixes with emotions he is unable to presently name but can’t wait to explore once his mind is no longer laden with smoke.
A watery smile spreads across his mouth and he can see nothing but her. Nothing but her decision to be with him. To commit in such a manner that not even his fantasies could have conjured those truths.
“We’re going to kick major ass as parents... We’ll put others to shame.”
Everything else he wishes to disclose evaporates and he can’t do anything except exist, as meager as said existence currently feels.
He hopes he’s worthy of their child. Just as he hopes he’s still worthy of his wife.
She blinks back swift tears and swipes her thumb across her cheek, leaning forward. “Yeah.” Her voice is barely above a whisper, yet overcompensates for her own threadbare nerves. “They better watch out.”
Lucifer is tender in both reaction and expression, thankfully unable to revert to old habits. He recognizes exactly how flush he is with love and yearning, two things that have chewed holes in his dark matter, forging space for something beyond him. It scares and invigorates how much he can carry for not only one, but suddenly two.
He memorizes her, shaping his fingers along the curves of her visage. Lapping at the static-filled words that perfuse and strip the air inside their room and their room alone, he wholly and completely affixes his lips to hers. He gives himself over with imperfect alignment.
“Merry Christmas, Lucifer,” Vicky murmurs between salt-laced kisses that leave her so breathless, she has to summon a new form of oxygen.
“Mmm,” he hums, at war and at peace, a loud buzzing of life and rebirth. “But what shall I give you in return?”
Her palm drifts to his chest, experiencing a different kind of disruptive bliss as she feels his intensity through their gift to one another.
“Oh, I know,” he declares before she can properly answer. He shuffles, setting the garb aside, and slowly lowers her to the rug. The fireplace scintillates, reminding them of their passion, hissing and popping and swelling to touch every corner, every joint.
Pushing up her shift, Lucifer anchors himself to her torso and blows light raspberries on her belly button. The scratch of his stubble and wetness from his attentions makes her squirm and shriek while he preserves her, hands swathing rib cage.
He leers, mischief in the slight twitch of his lips. “How about another? I’m sure there’s plenty of room.”
“Shepha, you are such a brat!” she exclaims, lifting her head to entice him in to her sight, affectionately swatting at his nose.
He grins. “And now you’re going to have to deal with two.” Inching and peering down, he finishes with, “Possibly three.” Pads of fingers stroke her hips.
“And if they’re smart, they’ll take after their mother.” She ignores his add-on, flashing an equally impish smirk.
Drinking in her scent- an indelible thirst- he stills, relishing in their stalwart connection. “They already do.”
“Oh? Do they now?” She anticipates another jest, angling back to where she was.
“Mm-hmm. They’re part of my favorite being that has existed and ever will exist.”
She is hindered motionless by that confession, mind involuntarily switching to study their transition from two to three. The proceeding kiss to her abdomen drops below to soul and bone.
He pictures their baby’s forehead, cheeks, eyes. Ponders what they will see through their perspective and how much it will differ from what is inherently known. Understands that, as he is not always the fool, mistakes will be made. Instead of forcing them to navigate burdens no child should on their own, they will be met and corrected with care and consideration.
“I love you, Vicky. I love you.”
And before Lucifer can sink just a little bit lower, Vicky emphasizes, “We love you, too.”
