#Devil & Dove

[trevuorzegras]

━╋ MY RIGHT TO BE HELLISH, part two

jealous by nick jonas

summary: In which Quinn Hughes has been liking some very interesting comments, and post’s recently regarding actress y/n y/l/n. (part 2/4)

pairings: quinn hughes x actress!reader

platonic!jack hughes x reader. social media au

faceclaim: dove cameron

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y/nfanpage

y/nfanpage: y/n in her most recent photoshoot! my girl looks good in purple! #y/n @yourusername

liked by _quinnhughes, username, and others

user1: am i the only one seeing quinn in the likes?

↳ user2: i thought i was tweakin 😭

↳ user1: you most definitely are not user2

_quinnhughes: oh wow.

*this comment has been deleted*

user3: was that a fanpage or actually quinn? i couldn’t tell, it was deleted too fast

↳ user4: pretty sure it was a fanpage! (:

↳ user3: oh okay thank you! user4

user5: she looks so good??

user6: yourusername

user7: why do you guys care about this puck bunny anyways??

↳ user8: in order to BE a PUCK BUNNY she would have to have slept with more than one hockey player, which she hasn’t done. you people call anyone a puck bunny. move along.

liked by _quinnhughes

user9: the way he liked the comment defending her 😭😭😭😭 i am ILL

↳ user10: my PARENTS

yourusername

yourusername: been so super sick recently, so here’s a camera roll dump of my past few days 🫶🏼

liked by _quinnhughes, kyliejenner, and others

user11: the way she’s still beautiful when she’s sick is actually beyond me

liked by _quinnhughes

user12: how are you angel?

↳ yourusername: im quite alright! been in bed feeling icky the past few days, but i’m alright. how are you sweetheart?

↳ user12: OMG you responded!! im okay, i hope you feel better!! yourusername

njdevils: feel better y/l/n 🫶🏼

canucks: sending you virtual hugs!

user13: canucks & devils being here 😭😭

trevorzegras: jackhughes lhughes_06 is this her???

↳ lhughes_06: now why the HELL would you comment. 💀

user14: wait if trevor is here.. someone talks to him about y/n. who is it. fess up NOW

↳ user15: gotta be one of the hughes’ right???

↳ user16: that’s the only thing that makes sense i think cause no one else has commented user15

user17: my bets on quinn yappin about her, especially after everything he has been liking 🤷‍♀️

liked by trevorzegras, lhughes_06, jackhughes, and others.

user18: that liked comment answer all our questions LMFAOO 💀💀

_quinnhughes: feel better 🖤

↳ yourusername: thank you quinn (:

jackhughes added to their story!

story replies.

_quinnhughes: ??

_quinnhughes: what the hell jack

lhughes_06: oh so THIS is why quinn just called me and went on a thirty minute rant. got it!

yourusername has added to their story!

story replies.

_quinnhughes: fun.

_quinnhughes: if you needed company, should’ve just asked.

jackhughes: oh he’s mad mad

lhughes_06: WHAT IS HAPPENING

next part

sorry this is so short but, part two! i’m actually enjoying this book so far. we’ll see how it turns out. don’t be afraid to send requests!

check out my navigation, here!

check out my nhl masterlist, here!

taglist | @literatureluster @wnderify

[salemlinnet]

chapter 15! HERE WE GODDAMN GO!!!! I have already reread it 5 times, i can’t imagine the ending, you thwart my expectations every time!

(i’m the anon who asked about it previously and your little drawing was amazing, i’ll be expecting the rent money PHILIP)

yes yes yes yes i hope you liked it!!!! thank you i'm vvv

i can't believe you read it 5 times. i'm so excited about the ending and the absolute ordeal we still have to get through, i can't put it down right now. thanks for continuing to read that's rad. graves isn't answering my calls rn cause i'm suing him here's a pic of soap and ghost happily ignoring his existence.

here's the link you were warned

[sunder-soul]

✦𝖒𝖊 𝖆𝖓𝖉 𝖙𝖍𝖊 𝖉𝖊𝖛𝖎𝖑✦

[read 𝖜𝖍𝖎𝖙𝖊 𝖉𝖔𝖛𝖊 here]

Chapter one: The lesser of the two evils Wordcount: 600 Header credit

“Someone’s making Horcruxes.”

If you’re being honest with yourself, whatever mental barrier that lies between the daily mess of to-do lists, deadlines, and humdrum Department bullshit holding back thinking about him, it’s a thin one. Gauzey, permeable, you’ll find him seeping into your mind when you’re staring off into the corner with at a half-finished report, bleeding in when you’re alone and waiting for the elevator, always with a sick sense of self-betrayal and something that stings an awful lot like shame–if you’re being honest with yourself.

A Friday evening at 4:56pm. That’s when McCollin decides to drop this news on you. It’s raining outside, a thick, thorough rain that falls restlessly over the dark city, framed by the single window in your office behind you. Both the lamp on your desk and the city below glow yellow-orange, the only lights left at this time of night so late into winter. That first promotion had come with bumping enough floors that people comment on the view whenever they step into the room, but more often than not they’re politely neglecting to comment on the fact that it’s Muggle London–not Wizarding–that you’re looking out over. It’s no secret that the Ministry maps out its favourites with the floorplan. The press on Riddle dropped off years ago and ever since, so subtle at first that you could write it off, that relentless, incremental push out of the limelight has been growing ever stronger. The job gets more menial, the promotions stop paying well, and slowly but surely new favourites sweep onto stage.

Here, tonight is where you're startled by the sudden sound of your door opening without a knock, and before you can even make some comment to McCollin he’s said the one thing that tears aside any aspersions that maybe one day you’ll be free of what happened.

“Someone’s making Horcruxes,” says McCollin.

You already know what’s coming next, you can feel it sinking fast into your stomach like you’ve stepped out into the dark, yellow-stained night.

“We’re gonna need his help,” McCollin says, and he says it with an apology already saturating every word, he says them heavily like he’s struggling to keep his head up to look you in the eye.

You stare at him, and the rain swells suddenly louder. You put down your quill and watch a bead of ink well at the nib.

The gravity of it is starting to weigh on you, too. They wouldn’t even be considering if it wasn’t already bad, if whatever they’ve been doing is far from working. They’d have to be desperate, very desperate, and you’re wondering what could make them consider their last possible option, Plan Z, what could be so monstrously bad that hauling Tom Riddle out of Azkaban to grill him about Horcruxes is the lesser of the two evils.

You’re thinking about his ring. You’re thinking about his last request. You’re thinking about dark eyes in a dark cell somewhere beneath the ocean and you’re wondering what he’ll be when they drag him out of there–half soulless? Half insane? How long has he been down there, rotting in the darkness, deep in the roots of Azkaban? How many times have you wondered that since you last saw him?

Your fingers are shaking.

“They want you there,” says McCollin, needlessly.

You already knew it. And god, god, here comes that sick shame and that self-betrayal, because somewhere beneath the dread­–if you’re being honest with yourself–you know that some part of you can’t fucking wait.

[salemlinnet]

Hey! Just wanted to let you know your fic The Devil May Care lives in my head (and my work pc) rent free. Especially chapter 8 & onwards! Like, it’s so good, and thank you for that fic.

thank you so much, genuinely, i'm really excited that you like it. lol of course chapter 8 is when we get to the good stuff i'm gonna have to give that a hard same. thanks a bunch for reading, hopefully ch15 out between chs 4 and 5 of domesticated.

here it is watch the tags

[sinnamonbun-in-purgatory]

Owl Laffitte lives rent free in my head…

That's his baby

[onlylonelylatino]

Blue Beetle and the Teen Titans by Sean Galloway

[wormtoxins]

Never going to finish this

twitter | bluesky

[mad-scientist-enthusiast]

Devil's Minion freaks I have returned to you with another gory fic! Please read the tags carefully before reading this one!!!

And as always, if you don't like it, don't interact. I do not tolerate hate of any kind on my blog 😊💞

[argesta]

Even for his death, Armand would have the boy sated, and safe, and soft.

[touhoutunes]

Title: 上海紅茶館　～ Chinese Tea (Shanghai Teahouse ~ Chinese Tea)

Arrangement: Demetori

Album: Il Mondo dove e finito il Tempo

Circle: Demetori

Original: Shanghai Teahouse ~ Chinese Tea

[waterdeep-weavemoss]

All Ye Who Enter Here

DEAD DOVE. MIND THE TAGS. Doephael.

He leads her by the hand, wings bent against the vicious cold. Doe would freeze without the snow melting on contact with his infernal heat, and shelters small under their red canopy, trusting- trusting- him to lead her safely to his father's citadel.

In the near distance, she witnesses, through the gap in the spines of his wings, the rush of an iceberg smashing into another with such speed it sends her heart racing. The ground quakes, shaking snowfall off the craggy mountains as carelessly as an owlbear fluffing its feathers. She watches the rush and fall, the crush of its weight into figures she can barely see through the howl and whip of the storm.

You see, mouse, says Raphael inside her head, why everything in the Hells is hard won.

Her teeth chatter. Ambition is just survival, she realises then. Without it, only death and the wasteland. The way directly ahead stretches clear and unbroken, glittering invitingly even under the onslaught. There is beauty in the strangest places.

Abruptly, she is lifted off her feet into his arms, the sky falling away with every wingbeat; Doe's eyes widen in silent alarm, and even here he can summon a slightly mocking smile.

Set your dainty little feet on that stretch of snow, mouse, and you would go plunging to a frozen tomb.

There, the citadel. It gleams like a blue jewel out of the wretched pale chaos, spired on the glacier Nargus. The storms swirl its perimeter, sucked up into an endless blizzard, no sun nor sky, just cold.

'Your lips are blue,' says Raphael softly, aloud this time as they alight high on the ice.

'I'm f-f-fine,' she chatters, squaring her shoulders and straightening. He laughs at her show of bravery.

'Did you notice how no direwolves hunted us? No ice giants, nor the great white bears? Do you know why, little Doe?'

Of course she did. She was sharp as he was, after all. 'Because you're Mephistopheles' son. They fear his wrath.'

'Yes,' he says, 'very good. You've a quick mind and faster wit. And,' he says, giving her a conspiratorial smile, 'ambition. The trait my father embodies above all others. Be on your guard.'

I will, she thinks. Be it bargain or sacrifice, something will be struck.

There is no royal welcome for the prodigal son. He enters hand in hand with the object of his obsession, the one woman in all the realms who kindled something human- a deadly thing to be, in Cania's seat of power.

The cold abates, but he does not let go of Doe's hand. She says nothing, barely acknowledges it. She gazes at the majesty of ice, the baatezu who stand in formation, a corridor of bodies, enemies rather than retinue.

Doe's pointed ears twitch, attuned to the screaming; it is louder here, raw cries of anguish drifting on the balmy air of the palace. She tenses slightly, raising her chin to face forward, ignoring the devils' devouring glares.

It is richly appointed, of course. Art on the frozen walls, gold and silver veins in the floor. She sees the Blood War, the cruel expanse outside, even Nessus in its horrifying splendour. They move through a banquet hall plagued by grotesque excess, the crawling, weeping, broken souls of those who craved power or love or recognition. Raphael sweeps by them with nary a glance, tightens his grip on Doe's hand in warning. She looks away, exhales shakily, raises her head with a steely glint in her eyes.

Good, he says, though he is not looking at her. His gaze is fixed ahead, on a pair of great hewn doors, jagged and glittering. His tail thrashes.

She doesn't trust herself to say a word, merely follows as he steps up to the doors. They remain steadfastly closed. She hears the cambion growl softly beside her, raising his voice to call out: 'Father. It is I, Raphael, returned to your domain.'

Ever the dramatist.

There is silence for a long time. Raphael stands still, waiting. When at last they open, ice dragging against ice, he drops Doe's hand.

She straightens, sets her jaw, falls into step as he makes the long walk to Mephistar's throne. It is so far away the seat looks tiny, but as they near it grows and grows, until the high-backed throne towers over them both, occupied by a hulking figure, chin in hand, gazing down at them with blazing infernal eyes, bright as hellfire.

'So he returns,' says the archdevil. His voice is the low, dangerous purr of a great cat. He rises to descend from his throne, each heavy step deliberate, until they are on a level. The sparkling shock of fear thrills through Doe's body as she realises he dwarfs his son, towering with wings that must be fifty feet; Raphael stands his ground, eyes narrowing. 'And you bring me a sacrifice.' His gaze turns to Doe, then. 'Such a fragile thing.'

'I assure you, I'm not,' she snaps before she can think. His nostrils flare, and Raphael whips his head to the side to glare at her.

'Indeed?' Mephistopheles' eyes shift from cambion to half-elf, calculating. His handsome face twists into a sneer. 'You care for her.'

Doe takes a breath in. If he tells the truth, it makes me disposable. If he lies, it makes me a prize.

'That half human side,' continues his father, 'betrays you yet again.'

'That appears to be your fault,' says Doe.

You are going to get yourself killed, snaps Raphael inside her head. And you have yet to sign my contract, mouse. Hush.

Don't tell me what to do, she says, with glare alone.

'You have fire.'

I'm going to die, she thinks then.

'Plenty,' comes her response instead. He snaps his fingers, this towering, terrifying devil, and she is elsewhere. Raphael is gone. She is in a cell, and he is bearing down on her, almost twice her height. She recognises the faint scent of rosewater.

Ah. A wizard... of course.

'I thought sending that wretched little incubus to keep him occupied would be enough of a distraction, but no. Now he walks into my palace with a sweet little soul. There's latent power in you. Roiling under the surface...' he takes her jaw in his fingers, and she shivers with fear. Her eyes widen as he appraises her, scared to move in case he decides to simply snap her neck instead. 'He cares about you. That pathetic human heart of his never could resist your kind. Though you are pretty, I could do better...'

Her heart hammers in her chest. I need Raphael here, she thinks. Fucking hells, I'm going to die.

Mephistopheles watches her calmly, appears to come to a decision. His mouth doesn't move, but she hears that deep purr in her mind. What is the worst thing I could do to the boy? He grins, showing a mouth full of sharp teeth. Break his favourite toy.

The ice cracks as her back hits the wall and he prowls forward, tail swishing side to side. She balls her hands into fists, bares her teeth and snaps, even as his huge hand closes around her throat and lifts her off her feet. In a snap of his fingers she is naked and shivering, her dark gaze burning with pure, spitting hatred. She scrabbles as his hand, sending small rivulets of blood sliding down his wrist. He pays no mind.

'You're shivering,' he croons. 'Pathetic.' The next moment, his hand burns, searing. Doe can smell her own skin burning and she screams with the pain, black spots dancing on the edges of her vision- though if he wanted her to pass out she'd already be unconscious. She kicks out weakly, sobs as he holds her still and thrusts into her. The pain is a screaming endless void, and even so she spits in his eye, is held with a clawed hand threatening to tear open her belly for her trouble.

Help me! Her voice is clear in his head, a desperate scream he's never heard. Raphael feels rage, hot and cleansing and wild, flood through him. He turns to the devil's under his father's command and snarls, baring his teeth.

'Out of my way or die,' he hisses. They advance: five of them, ten of them, twenty- and his tail thrashes as he crouches for combat, smacking hard into his father's throne. I'll get you, mouse, he thinks, leaping into the fray.

The archdevil's fingers loose on her throat and Doe lunges forward, latching her teeth into his flesh and hanging on for dear life. He tears her away, a chunk of muscle between her bloodied teeth. 'You're strong,' he says aloud, almost proud. 'If only I had had you and not my fool son-'

'Shut the fuck up,' she spits. 'If you were capable of love he wouldn't be a monster.' She screams again, tears coursing down her cheeks with the agony of it.

'A monster you'd gladly see in the doorway,' he snarls. He slams forward, her vision engulfed by red wings, biting down hard on her burned neck as he comes inside her, a torrent of hellfire heat, then lets her drop. She screams and screams, hoarse and raging as her hands and knees hit the floor. 'You survived,' he growls, impressed.

She briefly assesses. She is bruised, covered in her own blood, and his too. The burn screams, the bite feels like it is seeping poison into her bloodstream. Her hearing and vision become high pitched static. His mouth is moving, but she cannot hear. Doe slumps forward, unconscious.

'She will not be your sacrifice,' growls Raphael. He is spattered with infernal gore, crouched close to the floor. At the sight of Doe's prone body a wave of fury crushes into him and he roars, diving forward to tackle the archdevil to the floor. It is slippery with blood- Doe's, he realises with sick dread- he snaps his teeth, clawed thumbs gouging into his eyes. Mephistopheles, Lord of No Mercy, was not going to beg. Raphael knew that. But he was going to scream. And scream he did, thrashing under his son's hands, trying and failing to dislodge him.

'How does it feel, father?' he seethes. The archdevil's mouth is wide in torment, Raphael's eyes closing in rapture as he screams, high pitched in desperation. He plants a boot on his chest, throws his weight downward, sighs in satisfaction at the yielding crush of his ribcage, the red pulp of his heart seeping out onto the blue ice.

He turns to Doe. She is changed; where her skin was once peachy and warm it's now red, a tail curling down from her spine, horns curving out of her dark tresses. He gathers her up, slips down a half-remembered corridor from his youth. Here, as expected, was the room of portals; Baldur's Gate, the Underdark, and there, the shimmering orange heat of the House of Hope. He steps through, submerges them both in the restorative heat of the boudoir pool, and watches as she opens her eyes. They are as yellow as his own.

'Raphael?' she says. Though her wounds are gone, her voice is still hoarse. 'You came when I called.'

'Of course I did,' he said. 'I could hardly let my favourite client-'

'You're covered in blood.'

'Hmm.'

'It's not yours.'

'No.'

'And I- I'm-'

'A tiefling,' he says. 'Stay here, mouse. Recuperate. Get used to-' he gestures, 'your new body.' His mouth sets in a grim line. 'He's dead.'

Mephistopheles, second only to Asmodeus, dead by his son's hand.

'Good.'

'Do you remember-?'

'Of course I remember, fool.'

He gives her a long look, nods. 'Mouse-'

'Don't ruin it.'

But that human part of him, the heart, cannot bear to let it go. He takes her face, changed but familiar, in his bloodied hands, presses a lingering kiss to her willing mouth.

'I'm never far,' he says, and is gone in a burst of hellfire, leaving cherries and musk in his wake.

'Gone to conquer the eighth layer, no doubt,' she says to herself. The power vacuum needed filling fast, lest someone worse make a move.

And she needed to heal. She was changed, the weight of horns on her head, a tail, the red skin and yellow eyes- all of it paled compared to the attack. But he was dead. Bloodied and blinded and crushed for his crimes. She was not safe. Part of her wondered if she ever would be. But she was a little more devil now.

Better the devil you know.

[dragon-kazansky]

A dove and a devil

Matt meets you in a cold alleyway after he hears you crying, unable to ignore how heartbroken you sounded. He didn't know at the time that this would be the most important moment of his life. It just takes a long time for him to let himself have something good for once in his life. He may feel he doesn't deserve you, but he's glad you're there.

♡♡♡

I really want to write this someday.

[sinnamonbun-in-purgatory]

They’re so freaking weird.

[perkysbuds]

and the backyard's full of bones - hatchetfield

1,228 words, pt. 1 in the 'the devil's after bott of us' series, rated E Karen Chasity cleans up the streets of Hatchetfield.

[mcints]

I’m looking for anyone to write any fandom, any plot with me. I am novella, meaning I write 6 plus paragraphs (long paragraphs, and 6 paragraphs usually but not all the time). Please feel free to create ocs with me or ship canon characters with me. I am 20, so MDNI b/c I want nsfw or dead dove

Interests:

any sjm book

any toxic ship

interview with the Vampire (Loustat or Devils Minion)

Hannibal (NBC)

dancer/iceskater ocs

any fanasty ship

Marvel

LITERALLY ANYTHING

fxf, mxm, fxm

[mad-scientist-enthusiast]

Freaks and freaks only, I have published yet another Devil's Minion fic. This one is very "dead dove" so please heed the tags before reading!

Please refrain from kinkshaming on my blog. If you don't like the tags, don't read it :)