Helltaker one shots

Silver Hair and Tired Eyes

It was well past midnight when Y/n finally arrived home. Rain whispered against the windshield, the soft hum of the engine the only companion on the empty road. The garage lights flickered on as the car rolled in, casting pale reflections on the wet floor. The day had been long and exhausting—Steven's rambling about fantasy football did little to help—but none of that mattered now.

What did matter was this: home. The quiet, strange comfort of living with demon girls in pressed suits, the scent of coffee always lingering in the air, and the occasional chaos of hellish personalities packed into mortal walls. It was strange—but it was his.

When he opened the door, only two were awake. Modeus had retreated to her room, and Pandemonica—whom he had grown used to calling Monica—was still in the kitchen. He offered her a tired nod but said nothing as he trudged up the stairs to shower. On the way, he passed Modeus's door, hearing soft noises that he politely ignored. She had her habits.

Steam curled lazily from beneath the bathroom door not long after, the stress of the day washing away under warm water and solitude. Eventually, Y/n stepped out, towel slung around his shoulders, feeling human again.

Downstairs, the smell of freshly brewed coffee greeted him. Monica sat at the table, a mug in one hand, the other flipping through a stack of documents with visible annoyance. Her eyes were half-lidded, her tie loosened, her posture slouched in that exhausted but elegant way only she could manage.

"Karen, for the last time—no, you cannot go to Heaven," she hissed into a hellish headset. "You're already damned, you absolute idiot. Ask a real question for once."

A sharp slam of the phone followed. Monica rubbed her temples and stood, muttering under her breath as she walked past him. Y/n understood. She had her long days too.

After throwing on a shirt and some sweats, he found himself outside her door. He knocked gently.

"Come in," she said, her voice quieter now.

He peeked in. She was lying on her bed, palm resting against her forehead, her blazer discarded, her shirt slightly unbuttoned. Her eyes shifted to him.

"Terrible customer again?" he asked with a small smile.

"Yep," she sighed.

Without another word, he walked in and sat on the edge of her bed. He patted the space beside him softly, an unspoken invitation. She hesitated only a moment before rising, crossing the room, and lying down—not beside him, but right on top of him. Her head nestled into the crook of his neck, one hand resting gently on his chest.

"Mmm... you smell good," she murmured, her voice warmer now.

Her breath tickled against his skin as she relaxed into him. The tension in her shoulders eased. Y/n could feel it too—her walls lowering just for a while. Her hand gently traced the fabric of his shirt, then stopped, fingers splayed as if she wanted to feel his heartbeat.

They didn't speak for a while. There was no need.

She looked up at him, her eyes softer than usual, stripped of their usual sharpness. There was still a playful glint, but it was faint, replaced mostly by warmth. He brushed some of her silver hair behind her ear, and she smiled—genuinely.

"I know I complain a lot," she whispered, "but... being here makes it bearable. You make it bearable."

Y/n's throat tightened a little at the honesty in her voice.

"I'm glad you're here too," he said.

They lay like that, close, quiet, and safe—just two souls taking comfort in each other's presence after the noise of the world had died down. No need for explanations. No need for anything else.

The rain outside continued to fall, but inside, the world had finally found its peace.