#AU Fanfic

[almostfoxglove]

pedro pascal cinematic universe aus 4/?

the one where tim rockford chases a ghost. (insp)

[kittenfangirl20]

Another Hazbin Hotel fic I am thinking of doing is an AU where Adam is able to tell he was in love with Lucifer in Eden and it is Adam who runs away with Lucifer. Then when Lucifer falls, Adam is turned into a Demon and the curse placed on Adam is the opposite of the one placed on Lilith who was unable to bear a child. Adam is now cursed to bear Lucifer’s children and in order to birth the child he must have pain inflicted upon him by having the child cut out of him. Adam gives birth to Cain and then Charlie. Since Adam doesn’t leave Hell like Lilith did, when Charlie mentions she wants to help Sinners redeem themselves, Adam gave Charlie his support, but they have to deal with the leader of the Exorcists who is Adam’s ex wife Lilith.

[iikisa]

part 1

so. this is part one of a red dragon!krs fic ive been building up… this first chapter doesnt really have much much interesting scenes as of right now, and I’d love love love the input from everyone on how to continue, ideas for characters, and if theres anything i should consider changing!! that doesnt mean that i’ll be changing everything according to commenters, but i’d value all opinions to help build this plot 🥲

I’ve already finished around 3 similar length chapters and recently got stuck, so think of these posts as drafts and final revisions will probably go officially on AO3. thanks everyone 🤪

———

Oh, Pitiful Dragon (1)

-

Ever since his birth, the child longed for death. If it could take away his pain and grant his freedom, he’d trade anything he had so scarce of already. And on a particularly horrible day— the day that terrible man decided he would rip out his heart and use it for evil— the little child met a god.

The God of Death.

He thought it was ironic, seeing how soon his own demise was due soon. But this God didn’t come to reap his death, rather it came to propose a deal.

And the red dragon would accept any deal to be free of this pitiful life.

-

Kim Roksoo awoke suddenly from his slumber. His vision was black and only began to adjust to his blurred version after continuous blinking. Why was it so dark? And how had he fallen asleep? He was just finishing Volume 5 of The Birth of a Hero series and now— wait, are those chains?!

His eyes blew open and his vision was finally adjusted to the pitch darkness that surrounded him. He tried to stand but winced when pain spiked all across his body. Only then did he realize just how badly injured he was. Why was he so weak? Had someone kidnapped and beat him to a pulp?! He was completely blinded by the inexplicable pain that he hadn’t realized something much more important. No— wait, pain is important! It’s definitely concerning! But… why was his whole body covered in crimson scales?

‘Oh geez, well isn’t this new.’

Shortly after he had that thought he passed out from exhaustion and shock.

-

When Kim Roksoo woke again, he was practically being strangled. He quickly gasped for air and focused in on his current situation. He was being held up tightly by a metal collar on his (very, very sore) neck by some strange man in front of him. His hair was a long, spiky mess of blond and didn’t look very well-maintained. But his eyes… they were bloodshot red and had a crazed glint to them.

‘Crazy bastard…!’

Roksoo’s breathing was beginning to strain more and more, and suddenly he felt something prick beneath his scales painfully. He looked down and saw a clear tube running from his body all the way through an open passageway not so far from him. His blood began flowing through it.

‘Blood— They’re.. taking my blood?’

His thoughts were becoming even more incoherent by the second but after securing the clear tube into the little red dragon, the crazed man dropped him to the floor.

“You’re blood is so pure and vibrant, it’s so beautiful.. just like the color of your scales! It will definitely aid our liege and his cause. Haha!”

All Roksoo could think of was how crazy this lunatic was. He was still heavily panting, because honestly when was he not at this point, but thankfully he hadn’t passed out again. Instead, he glared with all his being towards the crazy bastard standing above him. Unfortunately, it only seemed to excite the lunatic even more.

“Maybe I really should visit you more. That look in your eyes gives me chills!”

Mumbling to himself, the psycho soon left the room through the very passage his blood was being drawn towards, and Roksoo was left alone; unprotected and cold. He hated feeling this way. These people didn’t seem to want him alive for so long, considering his “luxury” treatment. He was going to miserably die at their hands sooner or later. And he was too weak to do anything about it.

His eyes suddenly flashed with memories— no, records— of his fight with the second unranked monster to plague Korea. Lee Soohyuk and Choi Jungsoo… he had let them die. It was his fault and he knew it. It was something he’d regret for the rest of his life. But… they had told him to keep living. To keep living for them. He couldn’t die. It didn’t matter how he got into this situation. He’d rather crawl in shit than die this pathetically. He’d survive his new predicament— this new life that’s been granted to him. He’d survive.

He’d definitely survive to smack these bastards in the back one day.

-

Roksoo had spent weeks in that dark hell. His blood continued to flow from his body to somewhere unknown, he was paid violent visits by that lunatic, and he got weaker and weaker because of it. But his will didn’t waver for a second. Whenever someone came in to check on him, he’d mark it in his mind every time. Soon enough, he learned their patterns and found openings. He finally had a plan to escape this hell, no matter how many holes there were.. it was a chance.

With his limited information, there was only so far he could get, but somewhere deep inside him, he knew he’d manage. So, he followed his instincts. The minute his opening came, he used all the strength he had gathered and focused.

‘Concentrate. Concentrate on that feeling you’ve been accumulating, Roksoo!’

Suddenly, Roksoo felt as if he’d achieved some sort of enlightenment like the ones described in murim stories. He felt an overwhelming warmth spread throughout his body and a rush of adrenaline pumped through his veins exponentially. This power… He didn’t know where it had suddenly manifested from, but he was sure now. He could get out of here using it. His mind and body began working beyond their limits, and eventually everything around him felt like it was moving at a snails pace.

‘Instant..?’

His second ability from his past life, Instant. Time would seize and he could move freely for a short while. With a heavy cost on his body of course.

‘But this… it’s similar to instant, but it’s not completely it. I think— No, I can definitely handle this much better than what I’ve been able to before in Korea.’

His new body must’ve integrated Instant into another power. And this new power was about to help him escape. A small smirk graced his torn and bloodied face. Perfect.

Shackles that were tying his limbs down shattered beneath the little dragon’s feet in the blink of an eye, and in a literal instant he was darting across the passage with his slashed and scarred limbs.

‘Keep going. I have to keep going and get out of here!’

He was sprinting through the corridors, and if anybody had looked his way all they would’ve seen was a long, red blur. A bright light was beginning to seep in between the cracks in the ceiling of the dark man-made cave he was confined in.

‘Screw the consequences, we’re blasting through!���

With incredible speed, Roksoo was right beneath the seeping cracks of light and expanded his unused wings for the first time. His wingspan barely fit within the wide corridor as he spread them out and up, blasting off from his spot on the ground and flying like a rocket towards the ceiling. He was making it out.

Just as he impacted and the dust and debris had shot up everywhere, he spotted a few individuals standing far off in the sunlight. The most notable was a red haired main of fairly tall stature completely frozen in place by Roksoo’s sudden escapade. He wore a strange white mask over his upper face, his eyes a bright red with hints of brown. The person looked far to similar to Roksoo. His prominent crimson red and his own piercing reddish-brown eyes. They would’ve looked entirely the same if it weren’t for Roksoo’s current form.

He only locked eyes with the man for a split second, and continued shooting up into the sky. He began to hear shouts and alarms blaring within his vicinity. He had been encaged in a mountain with a large encampment stealthily surrounding it. He’d remember this exact spot.

Massive fireballs and arrows began piercing the sky in an attempt to bring Roksoo down, but he clumsily maneuvered around each and just barely grazed a few on his crimson scales. Suddenly, a blinding white spear had crossed his vision. And before he knew it, another had pierced right through his wing, tearing it open a considerable amount. Roksoo stifled the cry of pain that threatened escaping his lips, and instead gritted his teeth and continued to fly towards any kind of safety. Anything other than here will be safe, he just needs to lose these bastards first. The adrenaline rush he had originally received numbed all the pain in his body, but he knew that wouldn’t last with his current levels. He had to make use of every last bit of this power that he had in him.

He flew over an ocean and kept flying as far away as he could. Eventually he reached the mainland. The forest underneath him was dark and vast, a perfect hiding spot. He glides over the tree-line and with his remaining strength he just barely managed a suitable landing right by a flowing river. His landing was a little on the rough side and he was still so sore, but… he had finally made it out. He was successful. Now, he could truly live a slacker life! Wait— he still needs to get back at the bastards who had tortured him in the first place. Ah.. he also needs to secure enough funds for his slacker life as well.

Sigh.

Roksoo had much to do before he got to live a peaceful life.

‘But first, let’s just lay here a little while longer…’

Roksoo succumbed to his exhaustion and pain, entering a deep slumber.

———

THANKS FOR READING to the end !! please let me know ur input, things i could change, add, etc, i lack a lot in this field and value ur feedback ! 😋

[popodoki]

Hey, teacher! Aka my damn motorcycle Catwin AU! Part 2! Cause I'm easily swayed x

In this AU, Edwin is a school teacher, and Thomas owns a really cool motorcycle :'')

I think its pretty clear, but just for the record: I am taking various liberties with characters etc here

I also know nothing about astrology, friends x

Edwin sighs as he looks over the latest batch of exam scores from his class.  High grades from his studious pupils as usual, lower grades from the boys who were almost equally as bright, but didn't put forth the effort. A long-standing issue, one the school board doesn’t seem half as concerned with as he is. Now alone in his classroom, Edwin hears the final bell, the ensuing floor-shaking exodus of students to the open air. He leans back in his seat, vowing to try to come up with some sort of solution to this problem later.   

He packs some essays to read, homework that still need to be graded, into his briefcase, retrieves his coat from the rack in the corner on the way to the door.  He very much needs a nice cup of coffee. 

"Hey, Mister Edwin!" A loud shout echoes from the end of the hallway, and Edwin frowns, to himself, turning to face the student that the other teachers have affectionately likened to a bird.   

"Mr. Finch, I have repeatedly told you to call me Mr. Payne. Not to refer to me by my first name, and especially not within the school grounds." 

The teen has the grace to look apologetic, yet in pure young-spirited fashion, physically shrugs off the comment just a moment later. “I’m sorry Mr. Payne. But I have good news for you!  Check it out!"  The young man pulls a thick book out of his shoulder bag, flips it open to a page, bookmarked with a grey and blue checkered bit of laminated paper, thrusts the turned book and open page at Edwin, near bouncing with anticipation.  Edwin bends his head and glances, inspects the writing, charts and scribbles. It's a large astrology analysis.  On the top of the page, written in bold letters is 'Capricorn'. Below, Edwin skims through a far too large amount of text, even for an avid reader, and regrettably still unwillingly picks up phrases such as ‘You’re in the market for a partnership, and you might be pleasantly surprised, Capricorn.’, ‘Any existing relationship can deepen through dialogue.’ or ‘Saturn favours staying power, so look for a plus-one who’s in it for the long haul.’ Edwin skims faster, rereading the same few sentences to stall, making an estimate of a more natural seeming amount of time to read a prediction of his love life, from an astrology tome held up by a fifteen year old. 

Next to all of this utter tripe, is a note stating 'check star alignment!'   

Edwin can't help but smile, still, at the student’s obvious enthusiasm for the subject.     

"Isn't that great news?" Monty Finch asks him with an answering smile, "Not only does your horoscope predict it, but I did in fact check, of course, and the star alignment today is also very favourable.  Know what that means?" He adds in a conspiring, whispering tone. 

"You have a bit too much free time and need to be assigned more homework?" Edwin asks, with a hint of a smile still on his cheeks and a tilt of his head to accompany his teasing intention.   

The teen starts up his own analysis of the analysis, and Edwin knows if he doesn't put a stop to this conversation, Monty will keep talking, undeterred, for the next 20 minutes.  "Alright, well Mr. Finch, thank you for sharing your inspiring passion for astrology. Enjoy your weekend."  He pats the boy semi-affectionately on the shoulder, and brushes past him with long strides, beating a hasty retreat. 

"Trust in the stars, Mr. Payne!" 

Edwin tosses his brown leather shoulderbag into the passenger's seat of his car, pulls out of the school's parking lot, sighs deeply, rolls the windows down and lets the crisp air fill the car, rustle his hair.   

He passes the Allcott estate on his way into town, glances out the window at it as he passes, though he doesn't know what he expects to find. The outer gates are closed, locked, he can't really see past them, so he shrugs to himself, refocuses on the road.   

Port Townsend is one of the most affluent in the state. The people who live here have money, and they like to show it off. The school Edwin works for is a private, all-boys school that prides itself on how many of its students move on to acclaimed universities and careers pre-planned by either doting or detached parents. The houses are beautiful and scenic, most of the people are shallow and nosy.    

Edwin pulls to a stop when he finds a good parking space, a few blocks away from his favourite coffee shop. It's small, locally owned, and one of Edwin's favourite things to do is order one of their dark roasts, with a scone, that is decidedly nothing at all like a bisquit, and settle in one of the overstuffed chairs by the window while he grades papers.   

When the little bell above the door softly chimes as he walks in, he's happy to see that his favourite barista is behind the counter, studiously arranging the pastries.  "Hi Edwin!"  She chirps, and immediately sets to the task of hand-grinding the beans for his coffee.   

“Hello, Niko, good afternoon.” Edwin smiles at her and looks for a seat, settling in with a cursory glance through the window. The smile falls from his face.   

He's utterly confused, instead, looks around to see if anyone has noticed that this is happening, or if he's just imagining it. A little shake of his head doesn’t clear the vision; the sleek black and brown motorcycle parked next to the curb across from the café. The man sitting on the bench near it in the lightest definition of the word ‘sitting’, limbs spread akimbo across the furniture, head lolled back against the backrest.  

"Quite weird, right?  I gave him a cup of coffee to go, and then he didn’t actually go. He pretty much fell right to sleep on that bench. I don’t think that’s a good position to sleep in.  But, he looked so tired I don't have the heart to disturb him. And nobody has passed that bench, the bike is turned off and parked legally, so I don't think anyone minds. Have you ever seen a bike like that? I like his jacket, so cool!" Niko smiles, retrieves his scone and reaches for a mug just as the coffee finishes brewing. Edwin thanks her, but holds up a hand, silently asking her to wait as he chooses another corner of the coffee shop, making sure he can keep the bench and its occupant in his line of vision, though he can't pin down exactly why.  

Probably just the novelty of it all. Port Townsend was a town steeped in tradition, both in values and a clockwork year-round schedule. The town council kept everything pretty, decent, and calm. If Edwin was completely honest with himself, it was the reason he settled here.   

He's interrupted from his wandering thoughts, when the sound of several high-pitched voices, barely audible over the loud clacking chorus of stiletto heels on well-maintained concrete reaches his ears. 

Oh no. This is going to go really bad, really fast. 

Edwin is out of his seat, ignoring Niko’s questioning little “Edwin?”, and heading for the door before he’s even consciously considered the decision. As soon as he’s greeted by the warm air outside, he’s also greeted by the sight of one Esther Finch, and several members of the Homeowner’s Association. When that calculating gaze locks on Edwin, and stays so, Edwin spares a thought, a quick mental note, that Monty must have been wrong about the star alignment. He does not feel particularly pleasantly surprised, at all.  

[sarahowritesostucky]

📖"Alpha, Beta (& Omega)"

Story Rating: Explicit

Chapter Rating: Teen

Word Count: 1066

Pairing: Steve x Bucky

Tags: a/b/o, arranged marriage, domestic discipline, spanking, head of household, dom/sub elements, alpha Steve, beta Bucky, hurt/comfort, wedding night, alternate history, nobility/royalty au, Edwardian time period, m/f/m poly marriage, age gap (18/30), enemies to lovers

Summary: To save House Barnes from scandalous ruin, James must agree to a contracted marriage, accepting Lord Senator Steven Rogers as his Alpha, Husband, and Headship.

1. A Contract of Engagement

Chapter Summary: It’s a lost cause. His father broke the law in a massive way and got caught, and as soon as word gets out, they’ll be ousted from their Senatorial position. Bucky and his sisters will inherit nothing, and it’ll be the scandal of the century. “Please, mom” Bucky says softly. “Please don't make me do this."

Bucky sits despondently on one of the front parlor’s settees.

“Nobody,” he tells his mother, but of course she already knew that was going to be the answer to her question. Bucky hasn’t had interest in courting anyone, and nobody in society has expressed any interest in him. Not since his accident, leastways. His now-lame arm and the scarring that creeps up the left side of his neck have managed to dampen the interest he used to get from suiters. “I don’t want to marry, certainly not now. I’m eighteen for Christ’s sake.”

Winnifred sighs, the pen that she’s had poised in-hand lowering. “James, I love you and I’m sorry, but now is when you have to do it. You’re done convalescing from the accident, and thank God for that. Your finishing school is over, you need to do this.”

“Why?”

Bucky’s mother has never been one to suffer his bullshit. She shoots him a glare. “You know why. It’s only a matter of time before your father’s misconduct is made public knowledge. Once Frank Castle—”

“Don’t say his name.”

“Once that man testifies before congress, your father is sure to be ousted. Weapons smuggling, James? You’ll be completely ineligible. No one will have you.”

“No one like us, you mean. Not everyone has to marry into the Senate, mother,” Bucky snaps. “Christ, we’re probably all inbred at this point.”

“James!”

“I have plans. I want to go to university!” He throws his hands up. “Who even marries their beta first anyway? What’s wrong with this guy that he can’t find an omega?”

“Please,” his mother scoffs. “Captain Rogers is a very reputable gentleman.”

“You don’t know him!” Bucky stands up from the couch, walking restlessly over to the fireplace. “Please tell me you haven’t written to him already?” Winnifred tenses, but then she seems to steel herself and she nods tersely. Bucky curses. “Mother!”

“It needed to be done, James. There are no other prospects and Captain Rogers—”

“Ugh, stop calling him that. What’s his name?”

Winnie purses her lips. “He’s the Lord Steven of House Rogers, and you will be respectful, James.”

Bucky huffs. “Well I’m the Lord James of House Barnes and I—”

“You’re the lord of nothing!” Winnie snaps, standing up from her chair at the writing desk. She’s glaring at Bucky now. “And you never will be, if you don’t marry this man. We’re about to lose everything. Your father has seen to that. Soon House Barnes won’t exist. There will be elections—elections, James! Can you even believe it? We’ll all be common.”

Bucky looks away. “What’s so wrong with that?” he mumbles.

“Maybe nothing for you. Maybe you could manage, go off to university and make something of yourself despite it all, but think of your sisters. They won’t be able to marry well, and they’re omega, so what are they supposed to do? Take positions as shop girls? Ladies’ maids?”

Bucky’s heart lurches and his eyes shoot back to his mother, reproachful. “That’s not fair.”

Winnie’s features soften in sympathy. “I know, Sweetheart, I know.” She gets up and comes over to him, the long hem of her dress brushing the carpet as she goes. She pulls him into a hug and Bucky can’t help but to lean into her. “Oh, Bucky,” Winnie mourns, using his nickname for once. “You’ve always been such a little grownup. Sometimes I forget how young you really are. But life isn’t fair, and I’m afraid this might be where you have to start learning that.”

“Don’t make me do this, mom,” Bucky whispers into the perfumed fall of her hair, though even as he’s saying it, he knows it’s a lost cause. His father broke the law in a massive way and got caught, and as soon as word gets out, they’ll be ousted from their Senatorial position. Bucky and his sisters will inherit nothing, and it’ll be the scandal of the century. House Barnes has held one of New Jersey’s two seats since the very inception of the Senate. A hundred and twenty years of tradition, gone down the toilet because of Bucky’s reckless father. “Please,” he says softly. “There has to be something else we can do.”

“It’ll be alright,” Winnie tells him, pulling away from the hug and looking him in the eye. “I promise you. I’ve corresponded with Captain Rogers for several weeks now, and I’m confident he’ll make a good husband for you.”

Bucky shakes his head, angry all over again. “No! He won’t. How could he? I don’t even know him!”

It’s a silly argument, really, since many men of Bucky’s stature enter into arranged marriages. But even still, Bucky is beta: He’s always had this luxurious assumption that he’d be able to fool around for a decade longer than most; get educated, make mistakes, have fun. And now that he’s finally come of age and is on the precipice of actually getting to do those things, he has to go off and marry some old man he’s never met?

The reality of it is worse than a bucket of cold water to the head. “I don’t want to marry a fucking stranger,” he grumps.

“Really, Bucky. Don’t use foul language.”

“And I don’t want to marry some old man.” At his mother's raised eyebrow, he says, “Well he must be old if he’s already assumed the seat?”

“He’s young, actually,” Winnie counters haughtily. “Quite young. Thirty."

"Oh, is that all?" Bucky scowls at the carpet. Thirty, Christ. "When did he assume the seat?"

"Two sessions ago. Senator Sarah Rogers had a state funeral, James. I’d have expected you to remember it.”

Bucky waves his left arm in disdain, showing off his crippled hand. “Forgive me my 'preoccupation' these past few sessions, mother." He regrets his tone as he sees hurt flash across Winnifred's face. Dropping his hand, he sighs and looks away. "This is House Rogers of New York we're discussing, I take it?"

"The sister-seat to House Wilson, yes,” Winnie says, expression perking up as she hurries back to her desk to fetch up the stack of correspondences. “Here, I have his letters if you’d like to—”

“No,” Bucky says curtly. He straightens up and makes to leave the room. “I don’t need to read them. It’s fine. Just arrange everything and tell me when to show up.”

“Oh, Honey …”

“Don’t,” Bucky says tersely. “Just don’t. It is what it is. Guess I’m moving to New York.”

He leaves the room, and assumes that his mother writes another letter to the Lord Rogers, confirming their engagement.

Story Masterlist

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[your-divine-ribs]

Forbidden Part 30

Words: 3.6k

Prof Van and Y/N finally get it on // just porn right from the start // warnings: very rough sex (it’s all consensual), degradation, spanking 🖤

I forgot how dirty this was I’m going to hell 🫣

Forbidden Masterlist Main Masterlist

You don't realise that your legs have turned to jelly until Van releases your feet and starts to rise up out of the chair, lifting you up and out of his lap as he goes.

"Ahhh shit," you hiss under your breath as your knees buckle and you veer to the side, unable to counter your balance with your hands cuffed behind your back.

"I've got you," he says, one hand wrapped around your waist, the other tangling in your hair. "I reckon I could do just about anything to you and you'd always want more, isn't that right? My filthy little girl's always ready for more. I suppose you think you deserve my cock now, huh? Guess you think you can handle it?"

"I want it... please," you utter, your voice tight and shaky with need. Your cheeks burn hotly with shame at the delicious thought of being made to beg for it even now. Van's right, you really can't be satisfied. Even as fucked out and exhausted as you are you can't get enough. You can't get enough of him and his wickedness. "Please Sir, I want you. I'll be good from now on, I promise."

"Oh you promise do you?" A dark laugh, mocking. He holds you steady whilst you squirm, forcing you to look at the mess he's made of you. His lips drag down the length of your neck then up again to your jaw as a hand slides down to cup between your legs, his thumb sweeping purposefully across your over-sensitive clit. "Well I don't just want you to be good, I want you to be good for me. And I mean only me. Understand?"

You're so tender and sore that his movements make you whimper pathetically but you have no choice but to take it, knowing full well that you brought this all on yourself by shamelessly seducing Johnny. You love that fact and you know that Van does too. Despite his possessive demands he gets off on your brazenly slutty behaviour. He's addicted to that bratty side of you that's just begging to be subdued and tamed just the same as you're addicted to his corrupt streak. You're the perfect match.

"Yes Sir, only you," you whisper, faltering as he releases you temporarily to turn the chair around and push it up to the mirror, the back pressing against the silver surface. Before you can even begin to wonder what's in store for you next he shunts you forward over the chair. You push one knee up on to the seat to steady yourself and you feel him kick roughly against your other foot, spreading your legs wide.

"Well, open up for me then," he commands. "Let's see how good you can be."

You watch him reach around to dig into the back pocket of his jeans, biting down hard on your bottom lip to stifle a fearful whimper at what he might produce but to your surprise you see a flash of silver, then the pressure around your wrists is gone as he clicks open the cuffs. Your hands automatically shoot forward to grasp the back of the chair to brace yourself.

"So what'll it be then baby?" He taunts, towering over your prone body, eyes dark and dangerous in the mirror as he slowly winds your hair into a tight fist. His voice is low and measured, deliberate as he delivers a threat that makes your insides plummet with exhilarating dread. "I was gonna leave that vibrator inside you for an hour or so, all tied up and helpless whilst I sat back and watched the show... thought you might enjoy that."

He scans your face, delighted to see your eyes widen, doe-like and pleading. He tugs your hair back sharply, pushing your body down simultaneously so your back arches upwards, curved so prettily for him. "But then I figured... why should I miss out on all the fun?"

His gaze is hungry as it roams over your frame, his free hand following his line of sight, smoothing carefully down your spine and then over the curve of your ass, kneading the flesh and pulling your cheeks apart. You're fully exposed to him in the most indecent and undignified of positions as he studies you, his tongue swiping over his bottom lip as he mutters darkly. "So pretty... and all for me. I'm gonna fucking wreck you Y/N. We'll see how desperate you are to go running off for Johnny's cock when I'm done with you."

You hear the harsh slap of skin a millisecond before the pain registers and you scrunch your eyes shut, crying out. You gulp back your shock but it isn't enough to brace you against the impact of the second blow, or the third or fourth, layer after layer of pain blooming with the undoubtedly large red handprint you're sure is forming now on your delicate skin. The thought alone inspires wetness to pool between your thighs, the idea that there'll be marks left on your body after your encounter, secret marks that only you and Van know about. Marks to savour and remind you, marks to show where he's been... a delicious token of your punishment.

"Eyes open," he reminds you gruffly and you obey at once, your eyes fluttering open, blinking back tears from the sting of the impact. "I want you to watch this."

"Y... Yes Sir."

Your needy gaze searches for his in the mirror, finding it quickly and locking on, a silent plea in yours for him not to go easy on you as you hear the sound of his zipper opening. Nerves and excitement shoot through your body like lightening bolts. This is what you wanted. More of him. More of anything that he's willing to give. You want him to take you apart, push your body to its limits and beyond. You don't even want to think anymore... you just want to feel... everything.

You grit your teeth as you feel his hips butt up against your ass, his unclothed cock rubbing temptingly against your slick core. You can't see him in this position but you distinctly remember how big he was, the way he filled and stretched your mouth when he forced you to choke on his cock. You know it's going to hurt... he's going to make damn sure that it does. The most blissful kind of primal sensation. The anticipation makes you whimper pitifully as he drags his hot flesh up and down your slit, teasing you.

"So fucking needy," he mutters disdainfully. "Well, go on then... beg for it if you're so desperate. Let me hear how much you want it."

You clench with arousal, your skin aflame with want, glowing hotly with humiliation. Your instinct is to dip your head and shy away from your reflection but you can't, forced to watch the shame twist your features as he controls your every movement. He maintains a punishing grip on your hair as he slides the very tip of his cock through your folds, coating himself in your wetness, making you mewl.

"Please," you mumble, the words tumbling small and timid from your red smeared lips. "I want it..."

He chuckles derisively, goading you. The head of his cock presses tantalising against your entrance, the sweet pressure making you ache. You desperately try to manoeuvre your hips back to push down on him but he tuts at you scornfully, countering your movements, not giving in. Not giving you what you want.

"Is that all you've got? I'm sure you can do better than that. I know how filthy that mouth of yours is so don't try and act all coy with me now." He yanks roughly on your hair, arching your body unnaturally so he can growl low and throaty in your ear. "Beg for it Y/N... beg real pretty for me or you'll get nothing."

No one has ever made you feel like this before. No one has ever tapped into this darkness, this twisted need to be degraded and cheapened and used. The whines and whimpers that escape you are shamefully eager, your whole body singing with need, twitching and trembling like something possessed.

"Fuck me Sir... please!" You cry out, the desperation in your voice clear, punctuating the still of the house and bouncing off the walls, your breath hot on the mirror's surface, fogging it over. "I need your cock! I want you to fuck me hard... please!"

How needy you sound. Depraved. It's utterly humiliating. You cringe from your sudden outburst but you don't have time to contemplate it. You feel him shift into position behind you, you can see it in the mirror, his expression evolving into something wild and animalistic. You should be ready for it but nothing can prepare you for the way he forces himself inside you hard and unforgiving. It splits you in two, forcing a guttural groan from deep within your throat.

"FUCK!" You sob, eyes pricking with tears as you feel his cock kissing the furthest depths of your core, your walls struggling to accommodate the sudden intrusion.

It hurts but in the best possible way, dancing on that razor's edge of pain and pleasure, the sting receding as your body stretches and moulds itself around him. A hand grabs your hips with a bruising pressure as he pulls you tight against his body and leans over, the weight and heat of him enveloping you, overwhelming, clouding your senses.

"Holy shit, you feel so good," he hisses sharply, his edge of control wavering as he savours the feeling of being buried deep inside you.

He rests there for a moment, head bowed and hair hanging down whilst he mutters under his breath how good you feel... how tight you are... how fucking perfect you are for him... It makes your cunt flutter, your body poised and ready to take him, weakened but accepting. The thought that you might be witness to him losing it completely floods your whole being with a need so strong it catches you unawares. You've never needed anything so badly.

"Please Sir, please fuck me. I want it. I need it so bad."

"I'm gonna fucking ruin you," is his gruff reply, a threat you hope he'll fully deliver on as you feel the jut of his hips pressing against the swell of your ass. He pulls himself out slowly, slow enough for you to feel every inch of him until just his tip rests inside you. Excitement buzzes in your blood, your lower lip pulled between your teeth.

Without warning he snaps his hips forward in a brutal thrust that wrenches a strangled cry from your lungs, the loud smack of flesh on flesh harsh as his cock splits you open once again. And this time he doesn't stop, hips pistoning ruthlessly as he pierces you again and again with every upward drive. He feels so big and so deep in this position that you swear you can feel him in your belly.

"Fucking hell," you sob as you cling to the back of the chair, your knuckles white. You knew it would be intense but you hadn't bargained on it being quite so devastatingly all-consuming. Your shamefully fucked out expression in the mirror looks back at you through a veil of tears, your skin slick and glossy with sweat, your breasts bouncing with each merciless thrust.

"Needy slut," he hisses, drawing back enough to watch you take him, delivering another stinging blow to your ass which has your cunt clamping down on him, a surge of wetness trickling down the backs of your thighs. "Oh you like that don't you? Fuck... just look at you. Dripping wet for me. My filthy girl likes it rough, huh?"

Your mewls and whimpers and whines are all the answer he needs and he picks up his pace, every buck of his hips forcing his cock to slam hard against your cervix, the overwhelming pressure sore but blissful.

"Gonna fuck you so good you'll never want anyone else."

He looks divine in the mirror as he spits out his promise, the flush high on his cheeks, sweat pooling in the hollow of his neck and glistening on his chest where his shirt's open, strands of his dampened hair plastered to his forehead. His gaze is glued to the point where you two meet as he watches his slick length relentlessly plough into you, your hot wet tightness clutching him so perfectly.

Another whimper escapes your lips as he leans further forward so his body weight presses you down whilst he pulls your head back by your hair. He tilts your hips to a new angle so he can fuck you impossibly deeper and you feel like a broken puppet with severed strings, your delicate frame jarring with each of his relentless thrusts. He has complete control over you and all you can do is take it, fucked out of your wits, your mind emptying of everything apart from him and the mind-numbing pleasure that hurts so fucking good.

"Don't fade out baby, not yet," he croons, warm and sweet as he nips roughly at your ear-lobe. "You're gonna come for me one more time. Wanna feel you cream all over my cock."

"I can't... ahhh... I don't think... I can... fuck... it's too much..."

Even as you're saying the words you feel his hand sliding between your legs to feel the stretch of you around him, moving up to pinch at your clit, the pressure making you moan jagged and broken.

"Shh-shh-shh, I'll say when it's too much," he hushes you gently, sweeping slow circles on your abused clit, a sharp contrast to the savage pace he's fucking you with. Each collision of your bodies jolts you, raw gasps interspersed with sobs of pleasure. It's too much, much too much, bliss bubbling up through your veins and overflowing with nowhere to go.

You want so bad to just tip your head up to the ceiling and surrender to the euphoric sensations but you catch his burning gaze in the mirror and you find that you can't look away. You daren't look away.

"That's it Y/N, get a good look at who's fucking you so good. Only I get to make you feel like this." He releases your hair as his hand snakes around your neck, pulling your body up tight against his, your shoulder blades pressing into his chest. "You understand?"

You whimper in response, the only noises escaping you high-pitched whines that catch in your throat as his fingers lace firmly around it. His merciless pace doesn't falter, every mind-fracturing thrust pushing you closer to the brink, grinding deep whilst his fingers work increasingly slippery strokes on your clit.

"I said do you understand?" He demands, his grip tightening on your throat at your lack of satisfactory response. "Who's the only one who gets to fuck you like this?"

You wonder how he expects you to answer. Sounds choke in your constricted throat, your brain turned to mush so that when you try to stutter out the words 'only you Sir' they come out like a garbled sob. All you can think about is the throb at your core, the insatiable need to come again obliterating everything else. The sharp bright promise of indescribable pleasure twinkling like the sun cresting the horizon.

He chuckles at your pitiful attempt, his voice in your ear condescending. "Ahhh... is my baby too cock-dumb to speak? Well I guess I'll just have to show you then."

Your arms are shaking and you can barely feel your legs and you dimly wonder what would happen if you collapsed from exhaustion and over-stimulation right now. Would he be merciful? Would he stop? A wicked part of you hopes that he wouldn't. He's fucking you with everything he's got, his carefully composed self-control disintegrating rapidly as he pants and groans like a man possessed. Everything inside you is pulled up tight and taut, the pressure building rapidly, unbearable. You're amazed that it's even physically possible to peak again but it's the sight and sound of him like this that brings you swiftly to the edge, unhinged and feral like you've never seen him before. It's exactly what you wanted. It's everything that you've been dreaming of.

"Fuck-oh-fuck-oh-fuck-oh-FU-CK!" You wail, your body shuddering like you've just had a thousand volts pumped through you. Stars burst in your field of vision and your brain short-circuits as you erupt like white hot lava, the rush of heat shooting through every nerve ending, leaving you weak and boneless.

Van isn't far behind you. He finally lets go with a throaty groan of pure relief, his hips stuttering against your ass as he pumps you full, fucking you through his climax, every muscle in his body going rigid. He mutters into the skin of your neck, breathless and a little dazed himself. "So good... so good for me... fucking perfect... you did so well... my sweet, sweet girl..."

His words wisp hot and scorching over your clammy skin, sweet as sugar, cooling against the sweat which drips from your hairline.

You feel his lips on your jaw, you can see it in the mirror as he plants gentle open-mouthed kisses down the length of your neck to your shoulder, tasting the salt on your skin, breathing in your scent. He's still holding you tightly against him, a hand under your jaw, another clutching you around your waist. You feel him softening inside you, the warm sticky wetness of his cum mingling with your own juices, trickling down the backs of your thighs as he moves against you to pull out.

"I don't... I can't... I don't think I can stand," you murmur quickly, panicking at the thought of him moving away and leaving you slumped over the chair. You're physically and mentally exhausted, your body wrung out and used up, surely to crumple into a heap if he lets you go. Your muscles are stiff, everything tight and aching, bruised. You can only imagine the marks you'll bear tomorrow.

"Shhh... it's okay... I've got you," he promises for the second time that night, but this time there's not a hint of mocking or threat. You wonder if you're imagining it, the sudden softness in his voice, the roughness melting away as the pent up sexual energy that's been crackling between the two of you for weeks is finally reduced to a residual hum. "Don't worry, I'm not gonna let you go."

You're still transfixed by the image before you in the mirror, the gorgeous mess he's made of you, makeup smeared over your face, eyes glazed and unfocused, glossy wetness coating your thighs. Van's right there behind you, the usual icy intensity in his eyes marred by a warmer glow. It's something close to tenderness... or so you find yourself daring to hope.

Despite your tiredness an electric buzz still simmers under your skin from the thrill of it all, little tremors like aftershocks shivering you through. Your breath snags in your lungs, struggling to surface. Soothing touches run across the skin of your mid-riff, his other hand finally tilting your face up and away from the mirror to his. He's firm but not harsh, still demanding in that thoroughly addictive way of his. His brows are knitted together in a small frown as he gazes down on you, studying you intently. "I don't think you realise how long I've been dreaming about this... having you all to myself."

"You... you've been... dreaming... about me?"

You stutter out the words, still breathless, an overwhelming shyness washing over you with his full and close attention turned on you the way that it is. For some reason you feel even more self-conscious now than you have done all night. It seems crazy considering the compromised positions he's had you in, the way he's had you on show for him all exposed and vulnerable.

When he smiles his whole face lights up, eyes crinkling in the corners, radiating an unexpected warmth. He runs his thumb softly over your cheek. "Uh-huh. Is that so hard to believe?"

"Yes, yes it is actually." You nestle into his palm, barely daring to breathe lest it breaks the calm kind of intimacy that's fallen over the both of you.

He never breaks eye contact as he shifts his position, the hand that was around your middle sliding down to tuck around the backs of your thighs. He lifts you quickly and without warning, almost causing you to yelp out loud in shock as he scoops you up in his arms, holding you bridal style.

"What the... what are you doing?" Your voice is high-pitched with surprise.

"You said you didn't think you could stand. I thought you might need a hand."

You reach up to rest your hands around his shoulders as he turns you away from the mirror, mind whirling with thoughts about what he has planned. "So, this dream you've been having..." you start, your gut churning with excitement and nerves. "What happens next?"

You're exiting the living room now, moving back towards the hallway, keeping your eyes trained on Van even though you want to gawp around and take everything in. He's carrying you as if you were weightless, satisfied little smile playing on his lips as he looks down on you. Fuck... he's ridiculously gorgeous. You've always thought it but there's something about seeing him in this intimate setting that makes him even more attractive. You're in so deep with this man you can't even touch the floor anymore.

"Well... I take you to bed of course."

[mawrblaidddrwg]

“I’m picking the song, you’ll probably pick something shitty,” Bulma whined as she nudged Vegeta trying to get him out of her way. He slipped past her easily and shoved his coin into the machine. As he began to click through a few of the options, Bulma pressed her chest against his side to lean forward and look as well. The feeling of her body touching his and the intoxicating smell of citrus and flowers in the perfume she wore was enough to distract Vegeta and for Bulma to punch in the number selection before he could stop her. She grinned victoriously as she pulled away and put distance between them.

“You’re used to getting whatever you want, aren’t you?” He said indignantly.

She palmed one hand onto her hip, noticing that his eyes followed her every movement earnestly. She intentionally stuck her hip out with slightly more oomph than was necessary.

“And what’s wrong with that?” She asked.

“Nothing, really. But what happens when you don’t get what you want for once?”

She took a step towards him, and she noticed the way that his black eyes darted to her mouth and then did a grand tour of the rest of her without any care for how obviously he was looking. It was as though he wanted her to know that he was checking her out. The tequila between them had really taken down any of the small flimsy walls that either one had up in this little back and forth conversational foreplay. She took another step forward so that they were only a few inches apart. “Something tells me that I’m not going to find out.”

Her lips were so close to his that if either of them breathed too deeply they would touch.

“Not tonight at least.”

AU set in America in 1987. Vegeta is working under the Frieza Force when he finds out the truth about who murdered his family and rival motorcycle gang, The Saiyans. He searches for his estranged cousin, Goku, to help seek revenge for the death of their families. In his travels he comes across Goku’s friend and mechanic, Bulma. He doesn’t see any harm in taking a little detour on his road to vengeance. What could possibly go wrong?

[lackablazeical]

First thing ever posted on a03 all by mah lonesome, enjoy!!!!!!

[oddmawd]

sneak preview of the chapter 5 moodboard for The Art of Queen Sacrifice, my Doflamingo/OC fanfic

STORY SUMMARY:

In chess, a player commits “queen sacrifice” by intentionally giving up their queen to gain a significant strategic or material advantage upon the board.

But life is not a game of chess, and such strategies are easier prescribed than practiced — a lesson the princess of Mary Geoise will personally learn when she offers her hand in marriage to the Pirate Warlord Doflamingo in a desperate bid to spare her beloved kingdom from his wrath.

[Doflamingo/OC. Royalty AU. Princess!OC. Unnamed/undescribed OC for x-reader fans. BIWEEKLY UPDATES.]

READ IT HERE

[catb-fics]

Skin to Skin (Dad Van)

Words: 2k

No warnings just fluff for my Valentine’s countdown // Feeding your baby daughter for the first time 💗

Dad Van Masterlist Main Masterlist

You'd never understood the concept of crying tears of happiness until now. Sweat-soaked and exhausted, your voice hoarse and dry and your muscles strained and weary, you gently cradled the precious and wondrously beautiful new life that was your baby daughter and you sobbed as you watched her through glassy eyes full of tears.

"She's perfect babe, just perfect. I can't believe it. You did so good... I can't believe that she's ours..."

Van's voice is tight and shaky as he loses the fight to hold back his own tears, wiping them away with the cuff of his shirt sleeve as they track down his cheeks. You wrench your eyes away from your perfect little miracle to look up at him, so much love flowing between you at that moment as you soak up the realisation that you're parents now, no longer just a couple but a family.

"She's beautiful Van. Just look at her. Look at her little nose... and lips... and fingers. Everything's so tiny! I think she has your features, she definitely has your eyes. I think she looks like you already."

You both look down again at the little bundle, all swaddled up in a blanket, big expressive eyes wide open and gazing up at you and it hits you then. This is just the beginning.

You'd thought the birth was the hard part but the visceral pain of labour had already started to dull the moment the midwife had checked over and weighed your daughter and placed her in your arms. The hard parts are up ahead, the sleepless nights and the new-mum worries, the realisation that not only have you both created a little human being but now you have to take care of her for the rest of your lives overwhelming you.

"Nah, she's too beautiful to look like me, she's gorgeous, just like her mummy. I'm so proud of you Y/N, you were amazing. I'm in absolute awe of you love."

His eyes glow with adoration as he looks between you both, slipping an arm around your shoulder as he snuggles in even closer to you on the hospital bed.

"I couldn't have done it without you," you tell him, resting your head his shoulder. "I love you."

"I love you too... so much," he mumbles into your hair, planting a soft kiss there before he turns his attention back to his little girl, leaning right over her, a fingertip gently running over the apple of her rosy cheek. "Hey there baby girl, I've been waiting so long to meet you... and here you are, more beautiful than I ever could've imagined."

She makes a soft gurgling cooing noise, stretching out a tiny arm, her hand coming to rest on Van's finger. He lets out a delighted chuckle as her small but perfectly formed fingers wrap around his fingertip.

"Look at that! Look at that Y/N! Hey sweetheart, I'm your daddy. I love you so much, me and your mummy love you more than anything. You wouldn't believe."

His voice cracks again as he fights back a fresh round of tears, fascinated and awed by this new life that you've both been blessed with. She blinks up at Van through her long lashes, squirming in your arms, turning her head towards his finger, tiny lips seeking as a small whimper arises.

"I think maybe she's hungry already," you observe. "She definitely takes after you! Are you hungry my little one?"

You shift on the bed, drawing down your nightdress and unclipping your maternity bra, uncertainty taking over as you awkwardly try to manoeuvre your daughter into the position you'd been shown in your ante-natal sessions.

"Are you okay? What can I do? Do ya want a pillow? Here... have one to prop up your arm," Van offers, fussing around you, concern in his eyes as he takes in your worried expression. "Can ya manage? Are ya comfy like that? Shall I get the midwife back?"

"No, no... just let me try," you insist. "It can't be that hard."

Surely it should be the most natural thing in the world? The female human body is literally designed to birth a child and feed and nurture it, but even so your head is full of countless stories you've read on baby blogs online about breast-feeding struggles. Your little girl latches on hungrily but then quickly pulls away, her whimpers growing stronger, her small fingers pawing at your skin.

"Shit... this is harder than it looks," you curse nervously, gathering your baby up in your arms to try switching sides, groans of frustration bursting from you as you struggle to get your positioning right. "Something's wrong, I'm not doing it right. I just can't seem to get it right!"

Your eyes flick up to meet Van's anxious expression but then quickly back down, not wanting him to see the hot tears that are brimming in your eyes. Tears of tiredness and worry and frustration this time.

"You're doing great babe, really... you are. We could just give her a bottle though... just this once... I'm sure it'd be fine..."

"No!" You cut him off bluntly, your voice coming sharper and with more force that you intend. His eyes widen and his face creases and you soften then, quickly checking yourself. "I didn't mean to snap," you explain. "You know I want to do this myself, it's really important to me. I just need a bit of time to get it right... that's all."

"Okay... okay... I just want to do as much as I can. I'm sure you'll be feeding her like a pro in no time though! You can do anything that you set your mind to... you'll see... you always do."

Van grins a warm encouragement, one hand gently stroking at the downy hair on your baby's head, the other smoothing down over your back. You both watch as her tiny lips latch on again, a surprisingly strong suction this time that makes you gasp. You look up at Van, a huge smile of triumph breaking out.

"She's doing it... she's actually doing it!" You whisper, excitedly but quietly lest you break the spell. Van looks back at you with pride and reverence in his eyes, shaking his head slightly like he still can't quite believe that the last tough ten hours of labour since you arrived at the hospital have just taken place.

He leans even closer, peering in wonder as he takes in the scene. "Just look at you both like that... look at her go! She's proper guzzling! S'fuckin' amazing innit?"

"Shh... no swearing, remember?" You gently scold him with a smirk. "Don't want her growing up foul-mouthed like her Daddy!" You're only joking and he knows it, breathing a quiet 'sorry love' in between a whispered laugh.

You're both silent then for a long moment, you leaning into Van's warm embrace, your daughter contentedly suckling at your body's wonderful nourishment, a picture perfect scene that you know will be imprinted in your memories forever.

"How's it feel anyway?" Van breaks the silence eventually, folding the neckline of your nightdress carefully back where it's fallen over your daughter's face.

"It's just... weird... feels weird... kinda strange..." You pause, searching for the right words, quickly adding "in a good way though... a really good way. It feels bloody amazing actually. I can't believe I'm actually doing it. I'm actually feeding our baby Van... our daughter... our little girl. Can you believe it?"

You break off into a delighted giggle, only distracted when the sensation of your baby suckling changes, looking down to see her tiny jaw slacken as her lips purse and pucker as she pulls away. A small trickle of milk pools in the corner of her mouth which you quickly wipe away with a muslin cloth.

"Oh my god look at her!" You laugh, watching her eyelids fluttering as she blinks up at you sleepily, looking almost dazed. "That's the exact same look you get when you've had too much to drink!"

"Milk-drunk!" Van sniggers, lifting his arm away from your shoulder as he shifts on the bed. "Must be good stuff! Not surprising really... considering where it's come from!"

You laugh, nudging him with your elbow lightly, then you set about propping your baby up on your lap, gently rubbing soothing circles on her back which elicits a tiny burp, smiling to yourself that you've already overcome such an important first milestone of motherhood.

You're so caught up on making gooey eyes at your daughter that you don't realise what Van's doing, but detecting movement out the corner of your eye prompts you to look around. To your surprise and puzzlement, Van's sitting there propped up against the headboard of the hospital bed unbuttoning his shirt. The first four buttons are already undone and he's starting on the fifth when you speak, stilling him momentarily.

"What on earth are you doing?"

"It's my turn now, c'mon pass her over," he smiles, popping open the last button and holding out his arms, his shirt falling open to reveal his bare chest.

You just stare at him, completely befuddled, wondering whether maybe he's been sneakily siphoning off some of the gas and air whilst your back's been turned. "C'mon," he urges. "Ya can't keep her all to yourself! I'm desperate to hold her!"

"Sure... sure..." you mumble, gathering up your precious little bundle and getting gingerly to your feet, wincing slightly as you shuffle over to Van. You stop, hovering over him whilst he looks at you expectantly, bursting with eagerness. "What's with stripping off though? I'm not being funny, but you haven't exactly got... the right equipment!"

He grins, shaking his head. "Course not love, but I'm just thinking about what the midwife said... you know, in the ante-natal classes. About how dads could get involved? Skin to skin or summat... s'posed to be a good way to bond."

"Oh... so you were listening then?" You tease good-naturedly, recalling all the daft jokes Van used to relentlessly crack during the sessions, no doubt a cover for the nervousness he'd never admit at the prospect of becoming a dad.

You can see it now, the slight tremble in his hands as you place your baby carefully in his outstretched arms, the gentle way he supports her head and tiny body like she's made of the finest china and he's frightened that she might break.

"Oh wow, she's so tiny... she's as light as a feather. And so, so beautiful... just perfect. How did we create something so perfect, eh?"

You hear him suck in a shaky breath which he blows out quickly, leaning back against the headboard and bringing his daughter closer to his body. He lifts her carefully and positions her so she's pressed flush to his chest, then he begins to untuck the blanket that's swaddled around her, delicately pulling it free.

"Look at you... all wrapped up like a little burrito!" He chuckles. "C'mon sweetheart, come and lie on daddy. Gonna take good care of you... you and your mum. I love you both so much."

He dips his head down to plant a small kiss on your baby's head and she makes a contented cooing sound, nuzzling into his bare chest. He's cradling her with one hand, the other stroking soft, soothing circles on her back. You feel your heart swell with emotion watching the two of them together, your precious little girl so serene and comforted, the way Van looks down at her so dotingly and protective.

"Thank you Y/N," he murmurs, voice a little choked as he looks up, meeting your eyes which again are brimming with tears of emotion, his own looking glossy too.

"For what?"

He smiles, warm and genuine. "For making me so happy. Don't think I've ever felt this happy before... ever."

[violetmuses]

Part 2 of a request! - Part I ❤️‍🩹

@thomasrunner @nelo0wesker 🏷

Despite hiding around the world for quite a while, criminal Armando Aretas finally returned to Miami and would learn this brand-new chapter of life. 

To cut his grounded time in prison, Aretas would even continue working through the Miami Police Department and officially joined AMMO's squad.

No more running.

______

Staying with Detective Mike Lowrey until further notice, Armando pulled together and headed down for breakfast, not rushing to the precinct. 

“Morning, man.” Mike still wanted to greet Aretas without pushing boundaries. Their estranged relationship proved cordial at best  now. 

“What's up?” Armando offered slightly accented English before sitting down at the kitchen table. 

“Good morning, Armando.” Mike's wife Christine, a physical therapist, smiled. 

“Hey.” Armando nodded, still not comfortable enough to grin back. 

Christine also helped Mike heal throughout the shooting recovery that took place years ago. 

“Listen, we'll eat first and just get outta here, all right?” Mike spoke up. “Don't wanna be late.” 

“Kay. Who made the coffee, though?” Aretas glanced toward Mike and Christine for a second. 

“Me.” Mike joyfully confirmed. Even Christine laughed while Armando finished the meal. 

*****

“Don't worry about Marcus. I got you.” Mike almost whispered near Armando after driving the classic Porsche to work. 

Before Lowrey and Aretas could even walk inside, one voice called out. 

“Aw, Mike! Why didn't you tell me?” Sniffing through dramatic tears, Mike's longtime partner and best friend Marcus Burnett reached the curb. 

“Please stop crying, Marcus.” Mike shook his head while exiting that car. 

Embarrassed, Armando nearly shrunk in the passenger seat to hide and even veiled further by wearing Mike's sunglasses. 

“Armando dressed like you, too.” Marcus continued anyway. “Look at the gun holsters placed on his back, Mike.” 

“Stop.” Mike repeated himself while entering the precinct with Aretas and Burnett. 

_______

To make this return even more unsettling, Armando noticed that fellow law enforcement officials and other staff members wouldn't talk. 

The building neatly turned silent when everyone recognized Aretas. 

Even AMMO weapons expert Kelly and tech genius Dorn looked elsewhere. 

“What the hell’s wrong with everybody?” Marcus Burnett spoke up this time. 

“Marcus….” Mike Lowrey warns his best friend for the umpteenth occasion. 

“No, Mike. Listen, y'all. Stop tripping for five minutes, all right?” Marcus quickly defended Armando. “Focus on the job because Armando's not leaving anytime soon. You can't give up normal things just because he showed up either. He's part of our team like everybody else.”

Voices responded in all directions until Captain Rita Secada entered the precinct and headed toward that briefing room. Everyone else trailed.

_______

“We'll need all hands on deck regarding this new assignment.” Rita explained details while standing behind this podium. “Look for the witness described on screen.” 

Once Rita offered this large-scale viewpoint of that witness, Armando, Mike, and Marcus nearly froze. 

 You centered this case. 

*****

Shortly after that briefing concluded, everyone braced themselves for your arrival. Different officers would bring you to the police station. 

“Who does she want in there?” Armando offered the important point over your questioning. 

“Marcus and I have a much better chance of talking to her, man. I'm sorry.” Mike would never forget how you “woke up” after nearly drowning that day. 

“You're right. I'll wait.” Aretas nodded and walked toward his desk for the day. 

Mike and Marcus know exactly what happens next. Aretas could outright trigger your escape from this station. 

_______

“I know that you're scared right now, but we won't hurt you.” Mike repeated his vow from the wilderness as you sat in this horribly gray room. 

“He was looking for me.” You speak with Detective Mike Lowrey, otherwise there's no chance that you'll ground this case for yourself. 

“Who?” Mike sits up. 

“McGrath.” You reveal. 

“James McGrath is dead.” Mike answered. “We shut down his operation recently.” 

“I know. McGarth took me hostage right before Captain Howard was framed.” You exposed brand-new information. 

Mike's heart dropped and Marcus stood flabbergasted in the corner. 

“Hostage…” Mike Lowrey whispered. 

“Yes.” Your statement confirms the truth with each passing moment. 

Your fear. Running away from strangers. Not trusting anyone. On and on. 

“What do you need?” Mike asked, gently trying to ease the situation. 

“There's nothing else to do because McGarth is already dead at this point.” You shake your head, looking down. “Can I ask you something though, Detective?”

“Of course.” Mike locked eye contact with you for a reason and even stepped closer. 

“What happened to that criminal?” You bring up the question that plagued thoughts ever since you run in those woods. 

Shit! Mike silently acknowledged that you remembered Armando. 

“It's a long story…” Mike struggled to answer your question. 

“Is he still on the run?” You whispered over rumors from different places. 

“No.” Mike began. “The department will give Armando another chance, but you're not in danger. I promise.” 

“Armando?” You grounded the criminal's name this time. “Why…” 

You trailed off because Detective Lowrey spoke up again. 

“He's my son…” Mike cleared his throat and handed reality straight toward you. 

“Your son?” You can't believe how invisible cobwebs  tangled this place. 

One of the most well-known professionals in Miami fathered someone who lurked with darkness. 

“We didn't bring him for questions with you, but his name is Armando Aretas.” Mike continued speaking. 

Realization slapped you in the face! 

“Armando Aretas, the drug dealer?!” You shouted, almost leaving this chair. Even your voice resounded. 

“I knew she would react, Mike.” Marcus grumbled from the corner. 

“Shut up the fuck and help me!” Mike tried catching up with you, but failed. 

Within  seconds, you kicked that door open and found one of the back exits, immediately heading outside.  

“Shit!” Marcus finally realized the mistake of arguing. 

“I need backup! The witness has escaped our building. All units: respond to the situation immediately!” Demanding communication, Mike ran down this street. 

“She's not a fucking dog, Mike! What the hell are you doing?” Marcus shouted back and defended your reaction. 

Ignoring Marcus, Mike continued racing down while members of the AMMO squad emerged. 

“Armando, stay here!” Marcus noted Aretas over you just in time. “She escaped the building.” 

“No!” Armando refused to hide once more because anything could happen near you. Even sirens began wailing in the distance. “If she's mad, I'll deal with it.” 

On instinct, Armando races outside, leaving Marcus in the dirt. 

_______

“Nobody's safe!” You glance over your shoulder while bolting and realize that officers have caught up with you. “Get Aretas out of the damn building or I'm not talking again.”

“Armando won't hurt you.” Mike acknowledges you first. 

“Prove it, Mike!” You rasped, pissed off and worried at the same time. 

Moments later, Armando emerged and stepped toward you in broad daylight, not holding weapons. 

“Just tell us what happened.” Armando wouldn't stop looking at you. 

Even Mike and Marcus turned silent, waiting for the next plan here. 

“Stand down.” You took charge for once. “I can't explain everything in public.” 

Deal. Armando thought. 

******

Police tape riddled the scene while you joined Mike Lowrey's Porsche. 

While you became Mike's passenger instead, Armando crammed the back seat to dodge your glare. 

“My wife knows what happened.” Mike grounded this plan to settle everything in his home. 

“Thanks.” You nodded when adrenaline stopped for good. 

******

Parking at the house, Mike greeted Christine and stepped back, letting everyone enter. 

Once Mike locked doors and food set around this table, questioning resumes without Marcus Burnett. 

“What happened just before you were kidnapped?” Mike asked. 

“It was my birthday that night.” You remembered. “Right as I'm leaving the club, McGarth cornered me.” 

“South Beach.” Mike shook his head, already painting thoughts and images. 

“Scars?” Armando refuses to eat anything until you finish the story. 

“No physical assault. McGrath didn't hurt me, but his goons patrolled.” You don't express more. 

“How long were you there?” Armando nearly whispered. 

“I don't even know.” You almost struggled. “No lights in the room.” 

“How did you escape?” Aretas pulled this big-time question to score that previous tragedy in the water. 

“Tricked someone to help me with restraints.” You answered. “By the time McGarth hijacked your federal transport, I tried swimming away.” 

Flashbacks pulled right away and Armando's heart shattered. 

Aretas realized that McGarth controlled your every move until this point and reaching that unknown water should've marked freedom. 

You would rather die just to escape hell.

[just-b-wilde]

Yes, another poll!

If you've read this and know my other fan fiction.

Please, let me know what you think. Thank you.

Note: Here's a short story LILA on AO3. The follow-up story would have canon events from S1 and S2, but the other two series would not exist for this story and there would be alternate events. Plus, Lila would be childless. Honestly, I have some ideas for that.

[goatcheeseandmilk]

An in progress angsty AU broppy fic i’ve been working on

Summary:

Princess Poppy invites Branch to an “end of school year” get-together to which he reluctantly agrees to attend, unknowing that the events of the night would later reveal deep feelings, emotions, and secrets that leave them both in a painful situation. Now the two of them have to make decisions that could be life changing or end up leaving them both devastated.

if you want to get your heart broken then i recommend this one :)

[moonstonelibrary]

At the Coffee Shop

☪Side Note☪

Please note that the following story that your about to read here, is NOT real, this is a story i write for one of my AUs, and a story that i wrote for fun, thank you, and have a good day.

----------------------------------------------------

⚠TW: Mentions of drowning, and battery to death

💤Characters: Aurora Candy Cookie, and Dr. Evilglaze

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

April 9th 1999

Aurora Candy Cookie was just done with their job, taking off their jacket in the process, they took a breath, and they did admit, Milky Way Cookie did do fine on the job with them, even though she was a bit lackadaisical at times, the time she was lackadaisical was that she was just helping a group of friends get to the library at the City of Wizard, and when they met Stardust Cookie, they befriended the poor lonely galactic cookie, and hell, even his doughnut friend, they started to worry though, where was Dr. Evilglaze? probably out in the galaxy somewhere.

"That poor dastardly space criminal.." They thought to themselves.

They went to check on Stardust Cookie, and Space Doughnut, to see if they were okay, turns out they've been playing video games to the point of sleeping, they chuckled to themselves, thank god they were okay.

They were about to make some to eat, before they could, they heard knocking on the door, they sighed, kind of annoyed that their grubbing was ruined by some random doohickey on the streets, probably one of the passengers who gave a rightful complaint, or someone else, maybe a trespasser wanting to sell something off of the deep web, but who knows.

They walked out of the door, and it was revealed to be Dr. Evilglaze, who was in his cookie form, referring to himself as E-Glaze Cookie.

"Oh, it's you, what's up?" Aurora Candy Cookie said casually, they weren't angry, or annoyed at the doughnut ball, but they weren't really expecting for him to show up, especially during the evening.

"Nothing much really, i've been doing fine myself, after i reconciled with Stardust Cookie and his two friends.." E-Glaze Cookie said with a shrug.

They talked for a bit, while still thinking of things they could do out of their boredom, then E-Glaze Cookie thought of the best idea, maybe going to that Parfaedian Coffee Shop his friend won't shut their yapper about, his friend being Espresso Cookie, the guy he met in the library, along with another cookie who was crushing on him, Aurora Candy Cookie liked that idea, not bad, so they went to the Parfaedian Café.

The Parfaedian Café

As E-Glaze Cookie, and Aurora Candy Cookie ordered their coffee, and some other things, E-Glaze Cookie was feeling a bit more of that guilt, after that ordeal at the Dream Express, Aurora Candy Cookie looked at him, with a bit of concern.

"You're silent, do you feel alright?"

E-Glaze snapped out of their silence, looking the conductor.

"Well, kind of.." He'd say back, his red eye under his monocle dimming down to a darkish burgundy, and his monocle glass was flickering a bit, already knowing what will happen if he said all of what has happened to him to Aurora Candy Cookie's face, would they think it's fake? would they be mad? would they accuse him of lying? he took a breather.

"What if i were to tell you there was something else that happened, even before, and after that ordeal at the Dream Express..?"

"Huh?"

Aurora Candy Cookie tilted their head, curious to know.

E-Glaze Cookie started with the first thing that's happened to him, he mention Super Cosmo Cookie, that dastardly, fake, wannabe "superhero" from outer space, how he would ruin his plans, even if he was on a day off not doing his usual schemes, after the ordeal at the Dream Express, he launched into the Duskgloom Sea, only for Captain Caviar Cookie to find him as he was still under the water, his cracked demon horned helmet already filled with the saltwater, causing his dough to go soggy, and causing him to gag, feeling sudden guilt for months after that vacation disturbance he caused, after he transformed into a cookie, and reconciled with Space Doughnut, Milky Way Cookie, and Stardust Cookie, then he was found again by Super Cosmo Cookie, who almost pummeled him until he was nothing but dough leaking doughnut jelly, this happened after Dr. Evilglaze met Cotton Candy Cookie, and started building a relationship with him.

he couldn't even remember if it was out of Super Cosmo Cookie's jealousy, or that he wanted more people in Crispia to feed his ego more.

"All that i could say is, even after i redeemed myself, and quit my horrible deeds, he still attacks me, and sabotages me to this very day.."

He looked away from Aurora Candy Cookie, who in return, Aurora Candy Cookie started to feel bad for E-Glaze Cookie, or in his Doughnut Ball form, Dr. Evilglaze.

they knew they shouldn't have called him a "dastardly space criminal", they sighed, hearing the word "redeemed", they gave a soft smile, even though it wasn't shown at all.

"You know, since you've actually changed for the better, and reconciled with my one of my workers, and the two wonderful passengers on my train," They started.

"I used to think you were no good, but, since you have a lover now, and you retired from your villainous schemes, you're quite the gentleman in our book."

E-Glaze Cookie looked up at the conductor, as he heard what they said.

"Quite the gentleman? really?" He said, feeling a bit validated.

Aurora Candy Cookie chuckled.

"Of course, even though you went through a lot, you've completely turn yourself around, and if Super Cosmo Cookie says some deceitful B.S, then he's definitely in the wrong for not giving you a chance to redeem yourself."

Aurora Candy Cookie then puts their hand on his shoulder.

"Honestly, i'm happy that you changed your ways, same with the passengers, and Milky Way Cookie."

Then they finished their sentence with one more thing, regarding his relationship with Cotton Candy Cookie.

"I guess Cotton Candy Cookie was right about you, you really do have a good side in you, and i'm happy for both of you.."

E-Glaze Cookie smiled a bit more, he felt warmth, and forgiveness, he sipped his Galactic Cappuccino, and exhaled.

"Conductor Aurora.."

"What's up?"

E-Glaze Cookie then gave a genuinely grateful smile.

"Thank you.."

Aurora Candy Cookie smiled back, giving him a pat on the back, sure, they were rivals from the start, but after those times that happened to E-Glaze Cookie, or Dr. Evilglaze, they became friends.

🌀⭐🌟🌜

[ovwechoes]

Shadows of Compassion: Brigitte x Reader (GN/SFW)

AU short fic where you meet Brigitte on the battlefield; you're both supposed to hate each other and in a moment that you've been trained for, you cant bring yourself to hurt her.

You lingered over her, dagger in hand. This was the moment you were trained for, and you finally had the new leader of Overwatch underneath you. She was defenceless, her limbs pinned down and all her strength used up trying to fight you before. All that was left was to end it all. Complete your mission. But you couldn't.

"You haven't won yet. Even if I fall, Overwatch never dies." she spoke softly, looking directly in your eyes. There was a fire burning behind them, fuelling her words and burning at your ideals. You were taught this would happen, as a last ditch effort to get you to drop your guard and give her an opportunity to win. You weren't going to let that happen. And yet, as your mission stayed clear in your mind, your hands remained above her chest, unable to drive the knife deep in her flesh. All you could do is watch her underneath you, with the sharp edge of your blade dancing over her now destroyed armour.

You found yourself analysing the details of her body; especially her hair. The way the reddish-brown hair surrounded her was breath-taking, as though it was effortlessly sculpted to emphasise her face. It looked soft, freshly washed. Brigitte takes pride in herself and her appearance, it's something you had always noticed but especially now. The smell of roses mixed with sweat from the fight was strong, as though she was born with it intertwined in her genes. Her very being was effortless, and all you could do was slowly admire as though this was the first time you had seen someone so... beautiful. Images Talon had shown you before the mission and whilst training could never have done her justice, and you were left starstruck.

In a moment of defiant determination, Brigitte continued to bite at you, "Stop staring at me and finish the job already! Is Talon that desperate for agents that they can't find someone who isn't afraid to kill me?" You could see in her eyes that she was growing inpatient, as though she were a rabbit being watched and played with by a wolf before being eaten alive. And yet she was still fighting; Brigitte wasn't going to give in so easily and you could see that fire inside her was growing more and more. In this moment, her once blue eyes that had an unwavering sense of resolve and warmth, were changed into something that was almost unrecognisable. Was she anxious? Angry? Annoyed? You couldn't honestly tell, but you knew she was talking to herself and calculating something in her mind, and her face spoke every word of it.

Her lips were pressed firmly together, as though they were conserving energy for another attack against you and Talon. Brigitte's jaw was clenched, like a dog ready to bite at the hand that strikes them. And yet, you couldn't help but notice how soft they were. They looked as though they were sculpted to compliment her perfectly; she definitely had the best genes in the Lindholm family. The way they were both infuriating and still alluring to you was torture - all you needed to do was drop the knife deep into her beating heart, and finish your mission. And yet, your gaze was fixed onto her lips, as though you couldn't get the feeling of what they'd feel like against yours off your mind.

And her muscles; usually you weren't phased by physical bodies - it's not something you paid no mind to. But the way hers reminded you of a roman legionary made your mind flutter with possibilities. You were left with the image of Brigitte training, her muscles flexing as she used machine after machine with droplets of sweat dancing on them effortlessly. The mental image of her drinking water to hydrate, with it dripping down her slightly exposed chest, making it wetter than it already was. Florescent lights of a gym studio making her skin glisten and shine, emphasising her strength and determination even more. It was deadly and left your mind foggy with a mixture of admiration and lust. You detested what she was doing to you by simply existing.

This toxic feeling you were inflicted with by Brigitte was spreading, like a viral infection taking over your mind and body. Your heart was racing, your mind foggy, and you were overwhelmed with the woman in front of you - defenceless, accepting her death and watching in agony as she calculated her next moves. "Keep your eyes on that and not on me. I’m not here to entertain you." She continued biting at you, but with a hint of annoyance littered in her words. Brigitte's head tilted upwards slightly, indicating she was watching the dagger hold unsteadily above her this entire time. While your eyes were left on her, she was determined to watch your weapon. You were left wondering why was she still speaking to you, when you payed her no mind to reply? Was she enjoying this? Buying herself time possibly? It helped ground you though, and you were finally thankful for her inesent need to fight however she could.

And so, you slowly brought your dagger down, piercing through clothing and you could feel the resistance you knew was her delicate but rough skin. Brigitte winced and cried out, her body jolting as you continued pushing slowly but now steadily. All you could think of now was your goal, as you kept your eyes shut. You knew if you opened them and watched her as you took her life, you'd be enamoured with her once again. You couldn't take that risk. That was, until you saw them.

Lights scattered across you both from the air, you had ran out of time. Overwatch was here and ready to ambush you to rescue Brigitte. She screamed out, continued thrashing with energy she must've conserved while you were foolishly watching her. All you could do was hurry off her; the job couldn't be completed and you couldn't risk finishing her off without Overwatch capturing you. It was vexing, to say the least, but you had no other choice. You climbed off her and began to run, with her watching you leave still laying on the ground. You left her stunned and bleeding through her armour, with laboured breaths and a scattered mind flashing in and out of consciousness. All she could do was focus on her breathing, as she was surrounded soon after by her teammates, all focused on keeping her alive and helping her back to Overwatch HQ. You watched from the shadows, making sure it was safe to go back to your own escape and back to Talon. You were ready to face the consequences, and mentally prepared yourself for the punishment waiting for you for letting a feeble woman pollute your once clear mind.

Brigitte was stained into your mind now, and you made it your new mission to understand why, and finish what was started once and for all.