but beyond that, i believe Lucifer would be a god at it. His skills would be impeccable, especially with how long he’s been ‘alive’ for.
he is sooo focused on your pleasure. he just wants to make you feel good and satisfied. he will gladly sit inbetween your thighs for hours. he loves eating you out
he’s so pathetic about it too. his eyes, hooded with lust and need, staring up at you as his tongue works its magic.
he will beg you to sit on his face. eating pussy is one of hi favorite things, a dominant women is his second. so you riding his face is like a dream come true.
squirt all over him a he will be in heaven 🙏 (no pun intended…lol) he gets so pussy drunk it’s actually insane. he’s addicted and down bad….lucifer is a yearner and a munch
Alastor
alastor isn’t a very sexual person, and he’d much rather tie you up and use his ‘tentacles’ on you or his fingers. his mouth is something he’s not too found off. i hc that alastor doesn’t even like kissing all that much either
but on the rare occasions he does choose to eat you, your left limp in his bed
alastor doesn’t half ass things, he will make sure your spent. he’ll hold you down and force orgasm after orgasm out of you.
he always looks a little feral while eating you out. horns bigger, eyes blacked out, and a smile on his face as his tongue reaches inhumane depths inside of your pussy.
i personally don’t think alastor would like face sitting all that much. he likes control, and he likes being on top. 69 also isn’t his favorite because i don’t think Alastor is a huge fan of head either.
bondage. lots of bondage. if he’s eating you out, odds are you are tied up. he’s also the type of guy to put a pillow under your hips and press down on your lower stomach to really make it feel good.
trust, sometimes alastor knows your body better than you do.
Adam
he does it for his own pleasure more than yours for sure. but that doesn’t mean he’s not good at it.
he talks so much about his head game and this and that, so the first time he ate you out you were hoping it was bad just so you could rub in his face that he couldn’t make you cum. unfortunately and fortunately for you, he made you squirt around 3 times simply just from his tongue.
he dives into that pussy. his face is soaked by the time he coms back up. slow and gentle isn’t the way Adam likes to do it
not to mention the overstimulation oh my god…
i don’t think adam would mind if you sat on his face, as long as you bend over and 69 him he won’t complain.
but speaking of 69, that’s his favorite position by far.
he also dirty talks the whole time; even with a mouth full of pussy.
Sir Pentious
like i said in my sir pentious hc’s (linked here) he is lazy with it
not in a ‘i don’t wanna do this’ or ‘i’m bored’ way….but rather in a soft and sensual way.
he’s always a bit hesitant, asking you if it feels good or if he’s doing it right. he lives off of praise, especially from you. Your moans really build his confidence up to. by the end of it, he’d be a flow state, completely focused on eating you out and nothing else
face sitting is something he would like because he would know it’s enjoyable, since your the one in control. 69 would probably be a bit too much for him. he can only handle so much stimulation at once lmao.
your pleasure is his pleasure. he just wants to make you happy. “i promissssee i wont dissssapoint, my love.” he would declare before using that long snake tongue in all the right ways. his snake teeth are quite sharp and long…so just beware of that….
Vox
Vox uses sex as a way to get what he wants; i 100% he eats you out to apologize to you. not like you can complain much when he’s really good at it 🤷
the tv head definitely required you to spread your legs far and wide, giving him all the space in the world to lick and suck on whatever the hell he wants.
overstimulation for sure, while i don’t think vox is too big of a munch, he still likes it. and he especially likes making you sob and squirm while screaming his name.
he’s always doing the three finger combo on you too. he’s learned a lot (mostly from val lmao) he curls his fingers up while licking you just right. he knows all the tricks and what makes you tick.
yes you can sit on his face. he loves 69ing and usually will complain of you don’t lean over and suck him off too.
vox is a little selfish, obviously, so sometimes he’ll complain if you just want head and no penetration. but if you make it up to him with some head too 😉 he won’t stay mad for too long
hey guys! i know…another hazbin fic….im hyper fixating….requests are open but going by very slowly so pls be patient 🙏 love u all 💋 (lucifer i want u soooo bad…should i write a sub lucifer fic?)
a/n : season 2 was amazing, sooo happy vox was the main villain because we got to hear his amazing voice basically the whole season. lucifer didn't really have a song tho which im a bit disappointed about, when he was singing at the start of VOX POPULI bro he sounded glorious, he should have been singing the whole song 😔 I loved abel so much as well he was just a chill guy bro stole my heart
▢ adam ✦
- full of laughter -
Adam leans towards you with that usual cocky grin. It was wide, smug and so stupidly charismatic you kind of wanted to smack him and kiss him at the same time.
... he would be into that.
"Babe, you look at me any longer yer gonna burn holes into my face." He hums out, very aware of why you were staring at him. His hot looks, of course.
Rolling your eyes you reach out and flick his forehead, biting back the grin that threatened to spread when he cursed at you as he rubs his forehead with a glare.
"If only your dick was the size of your ego." You reply casually as you crawl closer to him on the couch.
"You're so fuckin' rude to me. Me. The man who loves your bitch ass." He grumbled out, hands immeditely finding their place on your hips the closer you got, amber eyes still narrowed at you pettily," be more grateful to the only person in the world who could love a face like yours, kay?"
You finally snorted in amusement, hands cupping each side of his face, his stubble scratching the skin of your palms," what are you talking about? I'm a fucking stud. I have multiple bad bitches lined up for when I break up with your clingy ass." You joke with a cheeky little grin.
Adam merely pouted at your words," man, fuck you." His hands squeeze your hips," the only way you're breaking up with me is when i die, by the way. You're fuckin stuck with me for eternity, babe. So your bad bitches will have to wait their turn, alright?"
A warm grin curled to your lips as your forehead presses to his, his words filing you with just pure adoration. Your lips gently brushed his," Ah, what a shame..." you hum lowly. Adam's patience seems to have waned because next thing you knew, your lips are molded together perfectly.
The moment your lips touch his, he makes a noise - half-laugh, half-choke, all dramatics - like you just caught him off guard despite the fact he leaned in first.
His hands slide around your waist with confidence and an extremely quiet ounce of care, fingers absentmindedly playing with the fabric of your shirt. Then they began to tap against the little patch of skin he manages to expose with his figeting. Didn't take you long before you realised he was tapping a song against your skin.
It's stupid. It's sweet. It's him.
You feel the smile against your mouth, that wide, shit-eating grin he always gets when he's enjoying something a little too much.
"What are you smiling like an idiot for?" you mutter against his lips before pulling back, hand brushing some of his brown hair from his face.
"Oh, you know," he says, voice dropping into something annoyingly soft for a guy who practically yells every word he speaks," just kissing my extremely sexy, extremely lucky partner - who, might I add, is definitely getting the better end of this whole arrangement."
A laugh escapes you, because of course he would say that.
"You're so dumb."
"Babe, I'm the first man. I'm literally historically significant."
You kiss him just to shut him up, but he merely makes a pleased hum like you just rewarded him for good behaviour.
▢ abel ✧
- honeyed and lazy -
"You good?" You asked Abel, giving him a small grin.
He blinked those yellow eyes at you, they were half-lidded but you could see the deer-in-headlights look within them," Im-... Yeah, totally. Extremely good." He gave you a cute grin, showing off the gap in his teeth," like premium-level good. Why wouldn't I be good?"
You raise a brow," Abel, you're talking like you just drank six espressos."
"Maybe I did."
"Dude, you can't even handle one espresso."
He groaned and rubbed his face with both hands," okay yeah fine. Im just... not great at being suave, alright?" He gestured his hands around before resting his cute face in the palm of his hand," Dad didn't exactly give me 'romantic charm' lessons growing up."
Laughing softly, bumping your shoulder against his," Good. Sauve isnt really my type, anyways."
His posture relaxed as he smiled at you lazily, his hand moving to poke your cheek," yeah? Then what is your type?"
You didn't have to answer that, he could see it in the way you looked at him. No judgement. No expectations. Just there, grounding him.
It made his chest all warm and fuzzy.
You merely exageratedly give your boyfriend an up-down before raising your eyebrows with that cheeky grin. That was the perfect answer.
He couldnt stop the flush from dusting pink across his round cheeks. He swallowed, eyes flitting to your lips before crossing over your entire face quickly.
You tilt your chin slightly, and invitingly as you hum out a gentle," you're thinkin' too hard~..."
"I think exactly the right amount." He pouted before he leaned in, cupping your cheeks the way he always kissed - with the unsure, soft reverance of someone who hadn't yet realised he was allowed to have nice things.
His thumbs gently brush your skin, his hands warm. His lips press to your cheek slowly, lazily. Then he dragged his mouth to your forehead, then along your jaw in an unhurried sweep. A smile ghosts against your skin at the way you shivered.
"You're doing that on purpose," you accused lightly.
"Hmm," he pretends to contemplate before smiling cutely," yeah, I am."
He finally found your lips, it was the kind of kiss that felt warm and syrupy. Gentle but deep enough that your breathing caught. Honeyed, slow, and absolutely intoxicating, the kind that left the both of you blushing.
He pulled back an inch, just a little dazed," hey... thanks for letting me be like this."
"You mean sweet?" You teased.
He snorts," I meant hopeless," he corrected, cheeks turning from pink to red," but... yeah. Sweet too, I guess."
You kiss his lips again before bumping your nose against his, whispering your next words like it was some world-ending secret," That's my type~"
He nearly combusted.
▢ sir pentious 𓆙
- coiling and yearning -
Pentious had always kissed you like he was rediscovering the concept each time—like every brush of his lips proved a theory he’d been working on for centuries. Even in his gleaming heaven form, that excitable brilliance of his remained, burning behind his eyes with every fluttering thought he never quite managed to keep inside.
You barely made it through the doorway of his workshop before he was on you. His gloves were still smudged with gold dust from whatever contraption he’d been building, and the second he saw you, his whole posture straightened with that endearing, overly-dramatic flare he never truly lost.
“Ah! My dearest!” he exclaimed as if he hadn’t seen you in years. “Perfect timing! I’ve just nearly perfected my- oh, come here—”
He tugged you forward by the waist, almost forgetting what he meant to say the moment his lips touched yours. Pentious kissed like a man starved for affection and overfed on emotion: warm, eager, and absolutely incapable of pacing himself. His mouth molded against yours in a slow, enamored pull, but he kept making soft, delighted noises every few seconds, like he was cataloging every reaction you gave him.
One of his hands slid up your back, drawing you impossibly closer, while his tail, still long and expressive even with its new divine sheen, coiled around your ankle in a possessive, absent-minded loop. He never seemed aware he did that. It was simply instinct, the way he anchored himself to you.
“Oh right uuuh,” he mumbled against your lips, as if the intensity was shocking him. “You have no idea how - mm - how distracting you are! I was just about to finalize the recalibration of the luminary coils-”
You laughed quietly, which only encouraged him. He tilted your chin up, kissing you again, more purposeful this time, like he was sealing a promise. Pentious always kissed you like you were the first variable that had ever gone right in his life.
You kissed him back, steady and grounding, matching his enthusiasm with your own kind of gentle firmness, the one thing capable of keeping him from spiraling into ten simultaneous thoughts. He melted into it instantly. He always did. For all his dramatics, he responded best to someone patient, someone who understood his momentum without letting it fling him into orbit.
His tail tightened in excitement. “Right, right, the invention!” he blurted suddenly, pulling back only half an inch, his nose still brushing yours. “You see, I-oh, you’re very distracting - hold on- just...just one more-”
He kissed you again before he even finished the sentence, hands cupping your jaw, his thumbs stroking your cheeks as if he was trying to memorize their texture through sheer devotion.
Eventually he forced himself to stop, chest heaving slightly, eyes bright behind his goggles. “I had a point, I swear I did.”
“You were talking about your luminary coils,” you reminded gently.
“YESSS! Exactly!” he said, triumphant as if he hadn’t just forgotten his entire train of thought because he liked the shape of your mouth too much.
▢ husk 🂱
- every kiss is a gamble -
Husk always kissed like every second might be his last. like he was betting his entire damn soul on the outcome.
Which, considering Hell, wasn’t exactly a stretch.
You found him hunched over the bar after closing, wings drooped, tail flicking in that irritated-but-trying-not-to-show-it way he did whenever he missed you but refused to say it out loud.
“Y’know,” you drawled, leaning on the counter beside him, “if you glare any harder at that glass, it’s gonna evaporate.”
He snorted without looking up. “Maybe that’d save me some money.”
“You don’t pay for drinks.”
“Yeah. Exactly.”
You laughed, sliding into his space because you knew he wouldn’t move away - he always pretended to be bothered, but his feathers puffed the second you got close. “Rough day?”
“Every day’s rough. I’m surrounded by moronic dipshits.” He paused, one ear flicking toward you, “Present company excluded… mostly.”
You bumped your shoulder against his. “Wooow, so sweet.” you cooed, fingers playing with the tufts of fur on his chest teasingly," do you have a crush on me or somethin'?"
“Don’t fuckin' start.” He rolled his eyes.
You leaned even closer, letting your breath tickle his ear. “Missed me?”
Husk stiffened. Then grumbled. Then stiffened again.
“Why’re you like this?”
“Suave charm. Can’t help it.”
He shot you a sideways look - narrowed eyes, half-smirk tugging at his lip. “You keep talkin’ like that, doll, and I’m gonna-”
“What?” you teased, cheeky grin curling to your lips, “Fold?"
He growled. Actually growled.
“Hell no. I don’t lose.”
And then he kissed you.
Fast. Decisive. Like you’d hit some hidden switch and he was done pretending he didn’t want you right then and there.
His hands were on you immediately. One gripping your hip, the other curling around the back of your neck, dragging you in until your knees bumped the barstool he’d abandoned. Husk kissed like someone starved, desperate, impatient in that addictive way that made your stomach flip. His lips moved against yours with a messy kind of hunger, like he was trying to kiss every thought out of your head before you could fire off another sarcastic jab.
You laughed into his mouth, which only made him kiss harder.
“Quit distractin’ me,” he muttered between breaths, biting your bottom lip just sharp enough to make your pulse spark.
“You started it.”
“And I’ll finish it.”
He kissed you again, slower this time, but deeper. Like once he got that first rush, he couldn’t decide whether he wanted to devour you or savor you. His tail curled around your calf, tugging you even closer. His feathers brushed your cheek, trembling with the effort of looking cool while absolutely failing.
His tongue slid against yours and he let out a low, helpless grunt - one that made your entire body flush.
You smirked against his lips. “You’re cute when you get all grabby.”
He pulled back just enough to glare, cheeks burning. “fuckin' cute? Seriously?” he sounded so unimpressed
“You’re adorable.”
“Shut up.”
He grabbed your chin and kissed you again, rougher. Every kiss was like spinning the wheel at a roulette table and whatever it landed on would be the way he kissed you.
You melted into him, hand sliding up to cup the side of his face. The moment your thumb brushed his cheekbone, he faltered. Just a little.
That tiny hesitation - soft, vulnerable, absolutely gone in a second - was your favorite part of him.
When you finally separated, both gasping, both flushed like you’d downed half a bottle of whatever he’d been drinking, Husk kept his forehead pressed to yours.
“You’re trouble,” he muttered.
“And you love me.”
He huffed, wings ruffling.
“…Yeah. Yeah, I do.”
“Wanna kiss me again?” you asked innocently.
His blush deepened. “Doll... darlin’ - if you don’t stop, I’m gonna carry you to the back and-”
You grinned. “So that’s a yes.”
He pulled you in again. That's the only answer you needed.
Hazbin hotel soulmate AU where you and your soulmate can both share each other’s pain.
Growing up, you never cried from any phantom pain at all, and when you were taken to the doctor, tests said that you were one of the 0.001% that had a soulmate who was already long dead by the time you were born. This kind of ruined your life. Everyone else had someone, and you were stuck with someone you’d never even know. You got bullied a lot for being the outlier.
However, one benefit is that you were always able to get into a ton of fights. Sure it resulted in a bunch of shady stuff that got you killed, but you didn’t have it in you to care. No soulmate, no reason to live like you’re made of glass. The doctors at your local hospital knew you by name and practically reserved a room for you.
So when you ended up in Hell, it terrified you when pain shot through your arm and you’d done nothing. You guessed that because you were as dead as your soulmate, you two could feel each other’s pain.
You told this to one of your friends from the gang you’d joined, and she’d stared at you like you’d grown a second head before laughing.
“Oh, Y/N. No, the scientists got it wrong because Heaven and Hell exist. If only one of you is alive, the dead soulmate will still feel it.”
Ah. You’d lost quite a bit of empathy being down here, but you still felt kinda bad for your soulmate. You’d caused them a lot more injuries than they’d ever made for you.
Eventually, you would meet them for the first time. The bond snaps into place as you two stare at each other. You’re left speechless - but your soulmate speaks before you can even process what’s going on.
“You.” They point a finger at you in total shock and outrage. “What the hell is wrong with you, you masochist?! I’ve never met anyone who gets hurt as much as you did! What the fuck?!”
And that’s the very first thing your soulmate ever says to you.
Love at first sight except the reader is oblivious for vincent, alastor , and sir pentious ? separately fluff maybe like they’ve been chasing her even when they were alive and they are finally cornered her and I’m like you know what flip it. I’m in love with you and she’s like same.
Love at First Sight + Oblivious!fem!Reader
Fic universe: none / multi-character (request!)
tags/cw: fluff, a smidge of angst in Pen’s // sfw, mentions of stalking & murder
a/n: My first request, yay! What a cute one too, thank you so much hehe! 💜Although, I wasn’t sure if “even when they were alive…” meant that they were only supposed to catch her after they both died… so I just went with whichever idea I thought suited it best. 💜 Hope you enjoy these, I had a blast with it!
part 1 [ you are here! ] → part 2
Vox/Vincent 🦈📺
You’re a new hire at the studio, a catch all secretary and assistant, and Vincent can’t help but be charmed when you stumble into his path.
Vincent would, inevitably, meet you at the studio. That was his whole world, after all, his sole purpose. All his ambitions lay there, climbing to the top. Everything outside of it paled by comparison. Especially considering it was a world that would someday (soon! Very soon!) revolve entirely around him.
Until you came along that is and then- well, Vincent decided quickly that he could multi-task between pursuing you and pursuing his career. Of course, he could multi-task, he was just that great and talented!
And he would stop at nothing to have both his deserved fame and now also you all to himself.
To put it bluntly, falling head over ass at first glance was not something on his to-do list, that’s for sure… but what happened? Well… Turns out that’s exactly the situation he found himself in. Literally and figuratively.
The studio was always a madhouse at this time of day- Vincent knew he really should have been looking where he was going but he was a busy man with places to go and be. Such as it was, he collides with- something, someone. His glasses go flying and land with a clatter upon the floor that would make him cringe if not for the fact he’s also upon the floor somewhere.
Vincent doesn’t even manage to get more than a startled bark of a gasp out before your voice reaches his ears- strangely melodic even in panic.
“Oh- I’m so- I’m so sorry, si- ah, oh dear. Mister Whittman… I cannot overstate-” The pads of your fingers are warm against his face, softly brushing against his cheekbones as you slide his glasses back on in what must be a desperate attempt to save face.
Whatever admonishment he’d been gearing up to shout gets lost in the feeling of your skin against his for the briefest of moments and the sound of your voice, “There we are, good as- oh, wow. What beautiful eyes you have…”
Vincent blinks stupidly at you as your face comes back into focus, aforementioned beautiful eyes darting across your disheveled form with renewed interest and greedy desperation.
Your neatly done up hair is flying out in frantic wisps, the collar of your blouse is askew and your skirt wrinkled from kneeling in it like so. You quickly take your hands away, wring them together in your lap before lunging out to scoop up miscellaneous papers before anymore fools step on them.
Despite having moments ago been rushing somewhere important, he couldn’t leave you to pick up all these papers by yourself, right? After all, what kind of gentleman would he be if he let such a pretty, sweet thing like you get trampled? That’s why helps you to your feet too, lingers with his larger hand clasping your palm as you thank him profusely.
In between frantic platitudes and apologies, you manage to ask- wrinkled pages clutched to your chest- “I- they’re not broken are they?”
“N-no, doll, they’re fine.” Vincent briefly reaches up to touch them, “Don’t you worry your pretty little head about-”
He hears his name bellowed from across the studio, a warning- and when he turns back you’re already gone, skirt swishing as you scurry off.
It’s not the last time he runs into you- but it is the only time he didn’t plan it methodically. Catches you on every corner he can, every break, every carefully maintained routine- walks you to your car more often than not- any second he can steal of your company, he does and plenty that he really shouldn’t. His attraction turns quite sharply into an obsession.
An obsession made worse by the fact that you seem to be completely and entirely impervious to his charms.
You weren’t some kind of ditz, that much he knew. Richard wouldn’t rely on you the way he did if you were and Vincent himself has benefited from your top notch organizational skills. None of the dames that have ever been hired here have been as good as you at your job- that’s a fact to Vincent. No ifs, ands, or buts.
Months go by… he tries everything he can think of outside of spelling it out literally. Flowers, dinner, walks you to your car most nights even though you say it’s unnecessary- but doll, don’t you know how dangerous it can be out on the street all alone? He wouldn’t know what to do if something unsavory happened to you! He stoops to poking his nose into your business when the others harass you and overwork you- can’t have that, obviously! Isn’t he just swell?
“It’s for your work anniversary- or er- well, the day we ran into each other. I’m not really sure anymore, they’re kind of one and the same for me.”
“Oh well I-” You giggle, thumbing at the delicate petals of your favorite flowers thoughtfully.
Of course he knows your favorite flowers- he knows just about everything he could ever want to know about you, whether by hearing it from your mouth or someone else's or observing it tangentially. Anything to draw you in- make you realize that he’s all you could ever want- ever need! (That this wasn’t working was neither here nor there).
“We don’t… really need to commemorate how awfully clumsy I was- tumbling into you….”
“And why not? We wouldn’t be so… close… if you hadn’t.”
“Oh stop it you, what will everyone think?” You bat at his hand playfully, not making direct
“That you’re mine and mine alone?” Vincent thinks, hopefully. “At least someone will have noticed that’s the truth of it- even if that someone isn’t you…”
“Thank you though it’s… very sweet of you to think so kindly of me.”
“Not a problem, doll- I’m always thinking of you.”
You smile that beautiful, gentle smile of yours, but don’t seem to notice the sheer weight that his answer carried. Much to Vincent’s continued ire.
Sometimes you’ll tug his sleeve and draw him aside to say things like, “Vincent I have just got to tell you something!” and he’ll think it’s finally dawned on you that he’s right here, in front of you, all but begging outright for you to notice that he loves you (Vincent Whittman does not- would not!- beg, mind you, but it’s a very close thing!)... only for it to be studio gossip, a faint warning to be careful- yeah, yeah, the murders, he knows all about the murders, doll… but you’re worried about him, huh?- or something work related.
You drive him crazy in more ways than one.
Why, he just doesn’t understand how you are not getting it! He’s heard the other girls nattering away, gossiping and teasing you. They can see it plain as day, why can’t you?! Why do you wave it off like it doesn’t matter, pretend it’s no big deal?
Vincent seethes at the lack of attention, but can’t bring himself to upset the delicate balance- the neither here nor there between you.
What if you were doing it on purpose? He couldn’t imagine why- he was handsome enough, smart enough, funny enough, wasn’t he? What if he confessed to you, poured his heart out the way dames like so much and you laughed in his face for it?
He couldn’t let you know just how much sway your opinion held over him- obviously.
Everything comes out… eventually.
Late one night while he’s stuck at his desk, editing- rehashing- nitpicking… working tirelessly towards his goals. You bring him the copies he needs without him having to ask. You lay a quiet hand on his aching shoulders, squeeze it gently in a familiar gesture that makes his heart ache- while sliding a cup of coffee, made just the right way, under his nose.
Before he can think better of it, a little too tired for his own good- a little too smitten with you- “God- doll, do you know how much I love you?”
To his dismay, you just offer him a smile and start to flee
He just- he can’t take it anymore! Why were you ignoring him every time he tried to reach out? Wasn’t he good enough?
“What’s with that look, sweetheart? Like you didn’t know?”
“I just- I didn’t- I thought- oh my, um- I mean to say-”
Vincent’s beautiful eyes narrow slightly, wrinkling at the corners and his shoulders shake almost violently as he breathes heavily. As though he’s been running for a very long time and not merely the ten or so steps it’s taken for him to press you to the back of his office door.
“Thought what? He says, breathlessly, with his mismatched eyes wide and searching. Hair askew- dark and silver threads alike having come out of his carefully maintained silhouette, making him look all the more manic in his frustration. “What is it? What is the matter with you? How can you not see-”
Your nervous eyes dart away from him to the floor, silent. Vincent lifts his shaking hand to gingerly- ever so gentle- grasp you by the jaw and tilt your head back to meet his eye. Now or never, right?
“You can look at me. You know. Sweetheart,” Vincent croons, point of his nose nearly touching yours. The frantic edge to his voice is latent, trembling just beneath the surface of his attempts to smooth it out with a low, almost sultry tone. “I look at you, you know- you… captivate me… even if you’re the most God damned dense woman I’ve ever met.”
What comes out of your mouth in response is incoherent sputters as your heart hammers away against your ribcage. This couldn’t be happening… could it? If indeed it was then surely… You’ve fancied Vincent some time before your unfortunate first meeting, but since then- you've gotten to know him, he just seemed to always be around afterwards.
You hadn’t wanted to ruin the camaraderie by looking for signs that weren’t there… you tell him as much.
“Well I- I thought- I thought I was just being silly. You know. A girlish fantasy, you couldn’t be interested in me. I’m a nobody! I fetch coffee, the mail- I type up correspondences, maintain the schedule and take notes during interdepartmental meetings-!” you flutter your hands nervously, unsure whether you should touch him or keep them clasped over your mouth before more truths come spilling out. Before you say something you’ll regret. “You- Mister Whittman- Vincent- you’re a star. Surely you can’t-”
The harsh line between his furrowed brows softens, frustration melting away in almost an instant. Oh you poor, sweet, deprived thing-
When he kisses you, then- fully, irrevocably, desperately- it’s desperate with relief, with sorrow at time wasted. You don’t protest, fingers finally settling on curling into his lapels- holding him as close as he wants to be.
“How much clearer can I get, huh? Do you need a handwritten letter? I’ll manage it if it’ll get it through that pretty little head of yours that I’ve loved you since the first day you stepped into my studio and knocked me over in a rush.”
Alastor 🦌
You’re an aspiring singer and a clearly intuitive, introspective soul… except when it comes to recognizing that a man like Alastor is captivated by you and you alone.
Alastor has never thought himself as being a man of obsession. Methodical, structured, deliberate, yes- absolutely. Those are all words that would describe him, but obsessive? Never. He was above such messy emotions and ridiculousness. He was better than that.
Until he meets you, that is- then… then he would consider you… the catalyst for some latent exception to the rule.
It’s not love. At least he wouldn’t say it is so, not the way it’s been described to him. Something deeper, perhaps. A craving for companionship? A recognition of kindred spirits- or at least spirits that have a henceforth recognizable synergy.
Mimzy is ultimately to blame for your meeting. You, a little songbird taken under her wing- dragged feet first into the world of showmanship.
“Oh- oh, darling, you have got to meet my dear friend!” The mighty little woman, the life of the party, tugs you insistantly by your wrist towards the jaw-droppingly handsome piano player- glass of champagne in her hand nearly spilling with every guest you both manage to avoid knocking over in her haste. “Al- Al! Look at me! Hello there, my friend! Okay, now lookie, here. Isn’t she just a darling? A natural talent, she is!”
You smile at him, politely- accept the de facto kiss on the knuckles he offers you without much thought before he turns to Mimzy with the intent of-
He’s not sure what, exactly. Whatever words he meant to speak leave his head entirely as soon as you speak.
“You play beautifully, sir. I would very much like to duet with such a talented pianist as yourself.” You avert your eyes, not shyly- per se- but perhaps a touch self aware that you’ve quite boldly declared your interest, “One day, perhaps, I’ll be so lucky.”
The rest of the room fades away, the laughter, clinking of glasses, and the still boisterous jazz is a muted thrum of energy around him- his attention suddenly narrowed and terribly focused on you.
“One of his many talents, don’t you know?” Mimzy elbows you in the thigh, your sparkling dress glittering as you tilt to escape the jab with a little gasp. “Haha, well, now you’ve met him, darling! Alastor, quite the charmer… just like I said, right?”
“It would seem that I am at a grave disadvantage.” He allows himself a second bereft of yourself in his gaze to glare pointedly at Mimzy. The woman merely giggles, lets your wrist fall from her grasp so she can twirl a wayward lock of her goldspun hair around her finger- as though she were the picture of innocence. “I am afraid our mutual friend has failed to inform me of even your name, ma chérie.”
You seem to give it to him gladly enough, but that is only the beginning.
His is an intimate, subtle approach. The slow stalk. Easy, unbothered gait- assured that no matter how fast or how far you flee, unintentional though your flight from him is, your legs will get tired and he’ll still be in your shadow.
It is not a pressing issue that you understand the full depth of his attachment to you… although sometimes he is flabbergasted by your complete lack of awareness. Sometimes he wonders if he would have an easier time of it to be as unaware as you are.
The two of you are close, undoubtedly, since meeting he has let you stay closer than most. Not just physically, although that was surely the most obvious given his well-documented proclivities but metaphorically as well. A trust that is not surface level.
Tidbits of his past slip out before he can stop them, stories from his childhood- about his mother, his beliefs, his personal affect- his distaste for touch. Knowing you’ll understand-, his pride and his ambitions.
You don’t seem to realize just how special you are in his eyes.
It’s as though it is perfectly ordinary to you. The way he looks to you first, makes space for you to speak if need be, finds you always in the crowd- whether he intends to stand by you or merely make sure he knows where you are at all times. The way he presses a kiss to the petals of a rose before dragging the soft edge across your palm after listening to a beautiful performance- a ritual and subtle admission all at once.
It’s routine, mundane- not expected, per se, but appreciated, comfortable. You certainly don’t take him for granted,ever the polite little bird, ever genuine and sincere in your interactions. The wavelength you occupy seems to be the same as his.
But regardless, you never step over the precipice he feels as though he’s teetering upon whenever you are in the room.
It is such a thing he allows so few people to do and you are allowed to cover more ground than even those he thinks most highly of.
You’re both seated side by side at the piano bench, another routine- a darling hobby to share together- thighs and shoulders brushing as your hands move across the keys in tandem, in a predictable rhythm.
Until suddenly, it is not predictable at all. Alastor’s hand folds over yours, warm and present. You stop moving entirely when the weight of it forces the keys to compress and an unexpected combination of notes ringing out shrill and sharp.
The music stops so suddenly, leaving the otherwise empty room. It’s just the two of you- as it ought to be- and-
“That’s- not how this piece goes.” You say, voice soft- brow furrowed slightly as your gaze switches with obvious, open-faced confusion between his gaze and where his hand firmly over yours.
“No, ma chérie, it is not how this piece goes…” Alastor agrees pleasantly, “But I do believe we are at liberty to… improvise, when the time is right. Don’t you agree…?”
You hum softly, acknowledgement but not interruption. One eyebrow raised, eyes wide and wandering over his expression, you gaze at him so keenly as to encourage him to explain without a melodic word on your part. An achingly familiar look- charged with secret intimacy that you share. A look that he wants to keep close, to lay claim to as the only recipient of.
And so explain he does. A tirade built upon years of unidentifiable feelings, your inattention juxtaposed with the closeness you harbor to each other- he speaks to you as though you are the heart he does not have already residing in his chest. Floodgates that release and leave you adrift, judging by the way your eyes widen and your mouth opens in a perfect little ‘o’ shape.
You blink at him stunned for several moments, his fingertips press at the gaps between yours, lacing your fingers together more tightly than before- reluctant to let you go. To let this final moment- the end of a long hunt- to slip from his grasp for anything.
Quietly- a quietness driven not by shyness but by tentative uncertainty- you respond.
“Mim- she- ah… warned me, I suppose it might be considered as such, that… you had no interest in… such a thing as… that.” You dip your head, your free hand plays a distracting series of notes without much thought- as though you were drumming your fingers against a table or your knee- as you fight to regain your composure, to make your words understandable. “I merely- Alastor, you know you do not have to- I was… I am grateful to have a trusted friend such as you.”
Alastor’s smile softens, the edges lose the practiced, theatrical edge honed over years- offers you a glimpse of his true feelings for you in the shadow of his expression.
“Generally speaking, no, I do not.” His free hand reaches tentatively towards your face- you lean into the gesture without hesitation, without fear in your racing heart. “But… she would have had no way of knowing- not anymore than I would have, mind you- that you would capture my interest so thoroughly, so irrevocably, mon coeur... do you see it now?”
Sir Pentious/Pendleton 🐍
You’re… something like an assistant to Pendleton. Sort of. He doesn’t let too many people who aren’t clients into his home- but you came to him one day looking for work- demanding it, more like- and you had such a fire in your eyes that he caved immedietely. You are a lifeline into the world outside his lab, his safe place… and he thinks that surely, that’s all he’ll ever need of the outside world: you. If only you could see that...
Pendleton is a man known for his impressive mind, extremely watchful eye, and lack of any thing even resembling a social life… at least on the surface.
In truth, the man was incredibly, painfully lonely. So lonely, in fact, that it’s almost unsurprising that he latches on so strongly to you at first glance.
You show up at his door. You show up for no earthly reason that he can guess at, there wasn’t a pre-arranged appointment and you look nothing like his usual clientele…
He should have turned you away. Pretended he wasn’t home (although he was always, always home)... but for perhaps the first time in his life, the glimpse he got through the tiniest of cracks through the door is enough to send him tumbling past apprehension.
It helped that you shoved your foot in the door before he could close it in your weary face.
Ragged but proud is but one way he could describe your bearing. A young woman with nowhere else to turn but you weren’t keen to beg him for succor. Demanded, more like! You demanded from him work that would be both dignified and steady, reliable.
It should frighten him, your rough edges but instead he’s- fascinated, smitten.
Pendleton doesn’t hire you for want of an assistant, really- he hires you so that he’ll have an excuse to see you again and again and-
You were more like a- a sort of go-between that connected him to the outside world. You brought him everything he needed, and quite a few things he didn’t.
Despite your bravado- your sharp tongue and even colder shoulder- you listened to him quite keenly. You were patient when he went on and on, and gentle when his anxiety bubbled over.
And when you asked about his inventions? Oh, he could just burst with happiness- you let him talk for hours even if you don’t understand the finer points, chin on your palm.
You slip inside the cluttered, chaotic space with ease, with confidence he does not possess. This place where he makes dreams of magnificent inventions a reality, his home, and you fit into it as though you’re an integral piece of the machine he’s built up around himself.
Pendleton’s tried so many times to tell you how he felt so strongly for you- since the very first day you met. To impress upon you that, somehow, some way- you’ve managed to penetrate the wall between him and the world in a way that no other person has ever managed. As if through his watchful gaze alone that always finds you- follows you from the door to the street, to around the corner-, the same gaze that is always distracted by you when you linger in his lab. The miscellaneous cuts and burns he has due to his ever wandering eye towards you are worth it when you, inevitably, notice them and naturaly offer to help clean and bandage them.
He feels safe with you like no one else. If- if you were to take his hand, well- maybe he could do anything!
You never seem to notice that. And when he realizes that he is hopelessly in love with you? You do the way his tongue gets tied in knots when he tries to confess, the way he fidgets- forgets his own name! You never stoop to asking what's the matter with him all the times he's tried, and failed spectacularly, to surmount the distance that remains between you both.
“Do you really- must you go? It’s… it’s so dark out now and-” He wrings his hands together nervously, hovering between you and the door. If but he could force the words out, to tell you how much he cares- how you’re the only person he’s has ever- would ever- asked to stay.
You sigh softly- gentle your fierce voice to respond, just for him. Pendleton likes to think it’s just for him that you are softer, kinder, gentler. “I have to get back, sir- the missus at the boarding house will have my head if I don't, you know. Nosy old bat that she is...”
“O-oh. Right. Of… course, of course. I would not want you to get chewed out on my account…”
You step around him, politely, hands clasped together in front of you as you turn to tell him, offering him a tentative smile, “I will see you tomorrow morning, the same time as usual. You have my word.”
“I’ll be… here, as… as per usual, my…” The door clicks shut, quiet, but with some kind of finality behind you. “…dear.”
Your word was a paltry thing in comparison to having you… and especially considering you did not see him that morning at the usual time- or in fact, at any time or ever again while he was alive.
For on this night, one of the countless nights like this night where he all but begged you not to go- a plea for you to see what was right in front of you the whole time that went unanswered- , is the one night you don’t make it home. Murdered on the streets you’d survived on for years and years, not without sacrifice- not without pain- but before meeting the enigmatic inventor, you had indeed survived. Not that night, however.
Pendleton never forgives himself for his cowardice. Not on the last night he had you in his grasp, and not all the nights after he had first witnessed the culprit kill again.
It’s not until he finds himself in Charlie’s Hotel does he realize that you were within his reach for far longer than he’d known…
It is within moments of your voice reaching him that he pounces. Ill-advised or not, if there’s one thing he’s beginning to realize with the help of Charlie and the hotel crew, it’s that he’s spent far too long holding
You gasp at the sudden intrusion- hands dropping to smooth your palms over his scales, feeling out what was keeping you immobile. They’re like the edges of cut gems, you think, smooth and glassy.
“Pen-” you begin to say, eyes wild with recognition, startled and half-breathless by the strength in his serpentine frame.
“I love you!” He blurts out, tears already dribbling and spilling down his smooth face, tongue flicking out instinctively towards your presence- as though triple checking that you were who he knew you were already. “And I am so- so-”
“Oh-” The expression on your face softens from shock, surprise, to something familiar. “You love… me?”
“Yes! Always! Ever since you put your foot in my door, shouldered your way into my little safe life and-” Pentious’ hood creeps up higher, as though to shield you both from the small group of onlookers now burning holes into his back. “You never saw it.”
Whisper quiet, you lift your still free hands up to his face- brush tears away with your thumbs. “I love you too, Pen, I-”
“Then why-” He hiccups pathetically as more tears pool in the corners of his eyes, pushing his forehead against yours more insistantly- nuzzling. As if he could erase all the pain and tragedy of a century past if he held you tight enough now. “Why did you not tell me so?”
“I had no desire to invade the personal space you held so paramount… I wanted to be a part of it on your own terms.” You say, quietly, “What looks like chaos to others- I know you always knew how everything fit together and I- I didn’t want to mistakenly disrupt that with some foolishness.” “You have always… always had a place with me since I first laid eyes on you- you... can be part of it now, my love. Please, say that you will be- please.”
Warnings: Rush work, just fluff!! Established relationships for all - OH BOY!! LOTS OF CHARACTERS -
Lucifer
You kiss him while he is doing some talking about ducks. You cant help it, he has that spark in his eyes, like they bright more when he talks about something he loves. His smile comes bigger, and the pink circles around his cheecks seems bigger. You kiss him quick, just a small peak.
His brain does a small reset, face going red. You two have shared more intimated and intensed kisses, but this one? Feels just extra special.
"And then they-" He forgot what he was saying.
Alastor
He is just there, drinking something, maybe tea or blood, hard to tell. Reading a book, soft jazz playing in the background. Is a lot different than his usual image. He seems at peace. It makes your heart beat up and your need head go crazy for him. You love him too much, and know how much he hates to be touched unless he initiates it.
So, you give him a quick peak on his left cheeck and run for your life (not that he would hurt you, this is not a first time, and actually? He is well aware of your "suprise" kisses, he pretends to not notice).
His shadows catch up with you, forcing you to sit besides him. He says nothing at first then.
"Next time? Just ask, my Dear"
Husk
After a long day at the bar, all Husk wants to do is lay down and just....stop thinking. His life is shit, he finds times of comfort within the Hotel (never will say it out loud) and you. You are his primal source of happynes.
So, while he is distracted getting ready for bed, his cat-demon senses you near him a bit too late (he blames the alcohol) when he feels a kiss on the back of his neck.
He purrs, out of purrs habit and because only you are allowed to hear such a sound from him.
When he turns to press you against his chest and gives you a proper kiss, leaving his head in the crock on your neck...
"Only you can make a day in Hell feel like paradise"
AngelDust
Angel is fresh from the shower. Having to clean himself from...work. He hates it. But is slowly learning to accept good things and to act in a non self destructive way.
One of the good things that has come to his life is you. At first he did not want to believe it but-
Your easy smile made things impossible.
Like now, when Angel is getting your help heating his hair back and getting it fluffier again, he feels your lips on his head.
Is sincere, is not sexual, is not an invitation for more.
Is you, telling him how much you love him.
And Angel? Well, he may cry.
Sir.Pentious
You kissed him once on his tail and he almost made half of his room explote because, sensitive and flustered snake.
Half the time he wonders how he did score you.
And you are there to take his hands on you, and tell him all the things you love about him, making him more and more shy till he asks you to stop because is too much.
And "...kiss me?"
Of course you do.
Charlie
Charlie will never get used to you, kissing her at random times. It leaves the Princess of Hell out of her mind for a few seconds.
Because these kisses are short, quick, a way of you to remind her, "Im here". Even if she is having a crisis over the Hotel.
You just know when to appear and sease her nerves with your lips.
Vaggie
After decades or more with training from Heaven. Vaggie knows when to expect someones attack.
The thing is, her body does not sense you as a hostile. So you always manage to sneak a kiss when she is giving some sternal speech or dealing with something.
Is not with bad ill, you just know she is getting stressed...and so you kiss her to make her forget for a few minutes.
Cherri Bomb
Before you can leave, she takes you back for another kiss. Never leaves a work (or destruction) half done. She loves them, loves how quick you are on your feets and how you seem to know when to attack (playfully).
Vox
He lives in stress and anger. Only allowing himself to lose up when he is alone, with his pets or with you. He is never soft around others, has a image to keep.
Thats why you never "suprise kiss" him in front of others.
Only when is you two alone in his office, with the dim light and his face deep in pappers and computers. He is so deep in work is only when he feels your leeps on his cheeck that he blushes. A spark going down his body.
Or when you two are having a moment to rest and watch over Vark. Vox turns into a baby and you cant help the soft smiles that comes to your face.
He is too cute for his own good.
And Vark loves to see his parental figures bond, he gives a soft push on the glass making Vox take a step back, look at you to ramble about Vark. Only to get lost in the way you look at him.
And suddendly ? Is not you, but Vox leaning in for a full kiss, with Vark swiming in a small celebration way.
St.Peter
He knows you are coming. When ? No idea, but he knows. Is not like he does not like your kisses, but he gets so flustered!!
And he knows, if he asks you to please stop giving them on public places, you will.
But the feeling on his chest when he feels your soul near him and then your lips? Feels like the morning sun, and honestly? He cant get enough. Even if he cant speak for the next minutes.
Lute
Lute swears she hates them....but never tells you to stop.
She is not sure if she prefers them when she has her mask on (because it hides her blushing face) or without it (cause she can feel the soft and warm skin).
You are one of the reasons she does what she does. She would die protecting you. Even if you dont know the full extent of her work.
"Stop, you are ruining my reputation" But then she is taking her words back.
Featuring >>> Adam, Alastor, Angel Dust (Anthony), Lucifer, Husk, Vox, & Valentino x Reader (Separately) as fathers.
(not proofread if that wasn’t obvious lol)
Adam:
Total boy dad. I can see him with a little girl, (let’s be honest, his daughter would 100% become an exorcist and take over after he retires as commander (if he ever retires lol)), but he would turn his son into the the next exorcist commander.
Adam is definitely a bit misogynistic…and no matter what you do, atleast a little bit of that would be passed down to your child. If Adam had a son (not him already having two other sons…), he would start training him at a very young age. (Kinda like the career tributes from the hunger games if yk what I mean.)
With a girl, I can 100% see him being overly protective TO THE EXTREME. He’s the type to scare off teenage boys lol.
Alastor:
Is probably the best dad on this list (except for Luci ofc.) Is super protective of his family. Would not let your baby out of his sight for the first few weeks. Would offer to help you with the baby when it wakes up crying late at night.
Is totally a girl dad. He would willingly play dress up and have tea parties with her in her room…but it will not be mentioned outside of there. When going out for an outing, he would dress her up to match his colors—red & black—and give you a few extra minutes to get ready.
The two of you want some alone time? He’ll ask Rosie. If she’s busy he is forcing either Husk or Niffty to watch the child. Alastor also most definitely keeps your young, innocent child away from Angel Dust for ‘reasons’ he doesn’t want to elaborate on. Your child will inherit his powers and will be almost as strong as him one day!
Husk:
Okay…so first of all, the elephant in the room. His alcoholism. I don’t think Husk would completely stop drinking, but would tone it down for the sake of you and your child. When he’s drinking/drunk, he would make sure he wasn’t around your child, not wanting that kid to see the ‘real’ him.
He would totally be a girl dad. He would completely deny it but we all know it’s true. Like Alastor, if your daughter wanted him to dress up, have a tea party with him, etc. I think it would take a little more convincing than Alastor but in the end he would do it.
Would be overly protective. ESPECIALLY AROUND ALASTOR. Husk would make sure that your child was atleast six feet away from the deer demon at all times. Husk obviously has lots of experience with Alastor as a person, so he of all people knows that Alastor could (and maybe would???) manipulate his spawn into a deal.
Angel Dust:
Angel is extremely excited…but…He is nervous. VERY anxious.
Angel would be a good dad, but he is worried about his deal with Val. Who knows what Val would do if he found out he was in another relationship…let alone with a child! When the child in question is born, he does everything in his power to hide them from Val.
If Val found out, he would be pissed. After calming down (barely), he would try to get your child under contract to punish Angel. Therefore, Angel is obviously very protective. Angel would teach your child how to be street-smart and survive on the streets of hell. Your child would learn from Angel’s mistakes.
Lucifer:
WHAT? HES GONNA BE A DAD (again)!? He is so stoked. Before the baby is even born they have everything they could ever want. Anything for his little duckling.
Your child would be homeschooled, but not by you. By the most well-known and well-educated members of Hell’s society. Your child is truly getting a million dollar education. Oh! And if your child decides to get a higher education after high school? It’s already taken care of. Lucifer makes sure that there are schools ready to take your child to college before your baby even turns two!
For some characters, I feel like they would either be girl dads or boy dads, but Lucifer could truly be either. With a little girl, I could totally see him playing dress up or Barbies with her, no problem! With a boy, same thing.
Vox:
Your child hit the jackpot. I mean…who wouldn’t want the richest overlord in all of pride to be their father? I just pray the kid doesn’t come out looking like a leapfrog or iPad…
Your child would be an iPad kid (vPad?) They would have all the newest technology and toys, they wouldn’t even know what to do with it all! Seriously though, this kid 100% has a playroom just filled with all the toys Vox either made or bought for them. He definitely spoils them (and you).
Your kid is a nepo baby. As they get into their teenage years, Vox would make sure they started to gain fame. Whether it’s by singing or acting (or both), or becoming a powerful overlord like himself, Vox would help them reach that.
Both you and Vox would make sure that your baby is supervised around Val and Velvette, if Vox even lets the kid around Valentino. He does NOT want Valentino trying to swindle them into a deal.
Valentino:
Bestie...What were you thinking? Let’s be honest. Valentino would not be the greatest dad. Definitely not the worst, but not great.
He would 100% leave your kid unsupervised. You’d better always be watching because he definitely isn’t. Speaking of supervision, Val would just randomly bring your child into his studio…When the two of you are spending ‘time’ together, he would either get Vel or Vox to watch the baby, or one of the souls he has under contract. Is surprisingly overprotective.
Val would teach make sure your child knows Spanish, threatening to ‘disown the brat’ if they refused. Luckily, you are there to stop Valentino from going off on your baby. Your child definitely learns a few Spanish swears from him.
TYSM FOR 1K NOTES GUYS! I really appreciate the support. As of now, this is my most liked post ever. I’m glad you guys enjoyed it so much! Thank you! <3
London, 1888. Mr. Pendleton placed a steaming teacup on the table. The dim glow of the oil lamp cast dancing shadows from the complex machinery that filled his workshop.
Peering over his spectacles, he watched Y/N, the only source of warmth besides the fireplace, reading a book.A gentle smile rested on Y/N's face. They were the single perfect order, the only point of serenity in the chaos of Pendleton's world. His drive for invention and constant innovation had isolated him from society, but Y/N had accepted his complicated mind exactly as it was. Next to them, even his infamous "social ineptitude" seemed to melt into a sweet eccentricity."darling." Pendleton said, his voice momentarily smooth.
"The air is cold and the fog is thick. I would much prefer it if you did not venture out today."Y/N lifted their head from the book, their eyes shining with affection. "But Pendleton, I must have a breath of fresh air. Besides, I promised Mrs. Davies I would fetch that special fabric for your new device. And I shall return with your favourite apple tart."Pendleton wrapped his arms around Y/N's shoulders,pulling them close for a soft kiss on the neck.
"Very well. But return before the shadows lengthen. This city... it offers little trust these days."
The whispers of Jack, the bold headlines in the papers, disturbed even Pendleton's peace."I promise, my dear inventor. I shall be back no later than teatime, and certainly before the fear sets in
This was the last promise Y/N would ever keep
Teatime came and went. Pendleton checked his pocket watch, waiting for the apple tart.
With every minute that passed, a cold, unreasonable anxiety grew in his stomach, shoving aside all thoughts of his inventions.An hour later, he shot up with a chilling premonition. He grabbed his coat and fled the workshop, slamming the door behind him and plunging into the misty, damp streets of London.
Mrs. Davies's tailor shop... Pendleton's breath caught in his throat. He ran—a speed he'd forgotten he possessed. His heart beat like a frantic, caged bird against his ribs.He rounded the corner.
He stopped.
Under the flickering light of the streetlamp, right on the pavement outside the tailor shop...Pendleton's world turned crimson.
Y/N was lying there. Bright red blood had spread mercilessly across the grey cobblestones, forming a dark, wet stain.No one was around, only the indifferent hum of London and the cold smell of the wet pavement.That famous, beautiful face... it was utterly pale.Pendleton's throat tightened. At first, he thought it was a trick of the mind. It couldn't be. They were just fetching fabric.He dropped to his knees. His hand trembled as he reached for Y/N’s rapidly cooling one. The instant his skin touched theirs, all his denial shattered.
"Y/N? My love?"
His voice was a harsh whisper. No answer. Those beautiful eyes, which should still have held the light of life, were now glazed and vacant.
"No."
The first tear slid down Pendleton's cheek and landed on Y/N's face. Then another, and another... The tears fell onto the blood-soaked jacket, making the red deepen.Pendleton screamed. He let out a primal, animalistic shriek that tore from his throat—a sound no one heard, no one cared about. His hands clenched. He was trembling.How? Why?All his inventions, all his complex mechanisms and formulas... None of it could reverse this simple, savage reality. Mr. Pendleton could invent no machine that could turn back time.He collapsed onto the ground, embracing Y/N's lifeless body. He wept. He wept until his eyes were dry, until his lungs burned with the sheer agony. When the tears were gone, only those deep, hollow, mournful sounds remained.
Pendleton rose slowly. There was no more denial or shock in his eyes. Only a profound, terrifying resolution.He didn't want anyone. No police, no neighbours. This moment belonged only to them.Struggling to stand, he lifted Y/N’s body into his arms. They weighed next to nothing, always light in his embrace. But now, that very weightlessness felt like the burden of the entire world on Pendleton’s shoulders.
"I will not leave you alone for a single moment," he whispered, his voice rough and broken. "I will give you a worthy end. By my own hands."Carrying Y/N, he walked to the back garden of the workshop. There, beneath the apple tree where they used to share tea and discuss his latest creations, Pendleton took up the spade.The earth was cold, hard.Pendleton dug. Every strike of the spade was a sob. The sound of digging was the sound of his soul fragmenting. As dawn approached, his hands were blistered, his back ached, but he did not stop. This was his final duty.He dug a grave deep enough.Then, gently, with incredible meticulousness, he lowered Y/N’s body into the earth. He had wrapped them in a blanket. You won't be cold. I promise.He covered the soil with his own hands. Slowly, as if afraid to disturb a sleeping lover.When it was done, Pendleton collapsed.
Lying on the newly turned earth beneath the apple tree, Mr. Pendleton was nothing more than a shadow consumed by grief.His eyes burned, but no more tears came. He had none left. The loss of Y/N had drained him of all remaining moisture.On that day in 1888, Mr. Pendleton did not die as an inventor, but as a lover. And all that remained was a cold, cruel ambition fuelled by revenge. The sweet man was gone. All that was left was a restless ghost, his pain hardened into a shell of obsessive insecurity and terrible resolve.
