#I gave UP!!!! on trying to pain the devil's hair

[starlightpixels]

I met a lady in the meads, Full beautiful—a faery’s child, Her hair was long, her foot was light, And her eyes were wild. I made a garland for her head, And bracelets too, and fragrant zone; She looked at me as she did love, And made sweet moan I set her on my pacing steed, And nothing else saw all day long, For sidelong would she bend, and sing A faery’s song.

[puckinghischier]

Falling

Nico Hischier x fem!reader

summary: reader gets hurt and nico is worried about her

notes: y’all i ain’t gonna lie, i went through a bit of a rollercoaster while writing this. i loved it at first, then halfway through started hating it, then somehow started loving it again towards the end. so if it seems a little all over place i’m sorry. also i know very little about how a dislocated shoulder works, so just pretended i didn’t if i got anything wrong. i hope y’all enjoy it!! happy reading!! 🫶🏼

request: from my 400 follower celly - “A hears that B got hurt and rushes over in a panic to see if they are okay” where reader maybe gets in an accident or gets hurt in their sport (nothing major). Bonus points if you add “I can braid your hair for you- I mean, only if you want.”

[4.5k]

part 2

“Yeah, Mom, I’m fine. Nothing’s broken, just a nasty dislocation,” you attempt to calm your mother’s nerves, trying to unlock your apartment door with your good arm while balancing your phone between your cheek and shoulder. “They reset it for me and told me to follow up with my primary care on Monday. Gave me some pain meds and sent me on my way.”

“Well, what about until then? What if you need help? What about work? How will you drive?” she rapid fires questions at you.

“I’ll figure it out, don’t worry. Since it was a work-related injury, I’ll still get paid. And they’re paying all of the medical bills, so that’s all taken care of,” you make your way into your apartment, shutting the door with your foot behind you. “Everything else I’ll handle as it comes.”

She doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer, tsking into her phone, making you picture her trademark displeased headshake.

“What about Nico? Why don’t you stay with him until you’re back to 100%? I’m sure he’d be willing to help out,” she suggests, her tone switching from worried to suggestive.

You roll your eyes, knowing exactly where this conversation is headed.

“Mom, how many times do I have to tell you, Nico and I are just friends. We work together. Just because you think you saw him look at me a certain way when you were visiting doesn’t mean I have to call him every time something goes wrong,” you tell her, placing your bag on your kitchen table.

Ever since your mom came in a few months ago to visit, she’s been on your case about making a move on Nico, it all starting when she witnessed Nico helping you across the ice during a pre-game practice while trying to get some action shots.

You work as a photographer for the Devils, not realizing that being able to ice skate would have been a nice addition to your resume.

Your college advisor arranged the interview for you right before graduation. You had no previous knowledge of hockey, having come from a football family. You told your advisor this, but she insisted you didn’t have to know anything about a sport to be able to take good pictures of it.

During the interview, you made sure to inform your now boss that you didn’t know how to skate, hoping it wouldn’t be a problem. He assured you that you could take pictures from the stands or the players bench, the chance of you having to step onto the ice slim.

For the first few months of your job, it was smooth sailing. You were mostly taking pictures from the camera holes in the glass or being told to cover locker room and arrival pictures. You worked with one other photographer, a seasoned sports photography veteran named Phil. Phil was a New Jersey native, having grown up skating, so he took over the duties of any major action shots the director wanted from on the ice.

Unfortunately for you, Phil’s wife had convinced him to retire early, losing his help right before the league’s short Christmas break.

Seeing as they had just hired you, and it was the middle of the season, the hunt for a replacement for Phil was put on the backburner, more important team matters taking precedence.

You were forced to take over Phil’s duties, meaning you were now responsible for any on the ice shots. You had found a way to slowly scoot across the perimeter of the rink, staying out of the way while also getting the shots you needed.

Your system was working well until the morning of a gameday, having gotten permission from your boss to bring your mother along to this particular practice, wanting to show her all aspects of your job.

For this particular game, the players were especially focused on practicing their skills and running drills during morning skate. You were doing your typical shuffle while clutching the edge of the waist-high wall when someone came zooming past you, causing your feet to start sliding uncontrollably, not being able to find your footing on the slick ice.

You felt the moment you were about to fall, waiting for the impact of your butt on the cold ice, but it never came. You felt yourself fall into a body covered by plastic pads, gloved hands shooting out to grab your upper arms.

You looked up, seeing Nico smiling down at you in amusement.

“It’s a bit slippery out here, huh?” he jokes, making sure you’re standing steady on your feet before letting go of you.

“Well, we are standing on ice, so….” You trail off, grabbing onto the wooden ledge again, preventing another near fall.

Nico laughs, looking down and shuffling his skates back and forth.

“Well would you look at that? We are on ice ” He flashes a smile, looking back up at you.

You stick your tongue out at him, earning another chuckle from the team’s Captain.

“You know, most people use these great things called ice skates when they try to walk on ice,” he tells you, lifting one skate up for emphasis.

Rolling your eyes, you scoff out a “Oh wow, why didn’t I ever think of that?”

“Just some food for thought,” Nico shrugged as he placed his foot back down on the ice, skating in a little circle, as if to say “See, told you so.”

You let go of the ledge to cross your arms, forgetting that you needed the stability. When you try to shift your weight from one leg to the other, you lose your footing again, this time falling forward into Nico. You let the camera in your hands fall, grabbing onto his biceps to stay upright, thankful for the camera strap around your neck.

His hands shoot out to grab your forearms.

“You know the sad thing is, even with the skates, I’d still be as clumsy, considering I have absolutely no idea how to use them,” you tell him, the two of you still holding on to one another.

Nico shakes his head at you, placing one of your hands on his forearm, moving you from in front of him to beside of him.

He starts slowly skating towards the bench while you shuffle your feet along, putting all of your focus on keeping yourself upright until you reach your destination.

When you finally reach the bench, you step off of the ice and let out a breath of relief.

“Thanks, Cap. Would’ve hated to make a fool of myself out there while my mom’s watching,” you thank him, looking over to where your mom sits, a smile on her face.

Nico follows your gaze and waves to your mom, matching her smile.

“Well, we wouldn’t want that now, would we? What if she found out her daughter was a skating fraud?” he teases, leaning in to whisper the last two words.

“It’s her fault for never taking me to the rink my town would throw up once a year at Christmas. Who knows, maybe I would’ve been a skating prodigy if given the chance,” you shrug.

A mischievous smile makes its way onto his face. “I think we should put that theory to the test,” he tells you, causing your eyes to latch onto his.

“Come again?” You raise your eyebrows and tilt your chin down.

“I mean, I can’t have some photographer out on my ice during practices that can’t even stand up,” he keeps his tone light, making sure you know he’s just teasing, “So, I’m going to teach you how to skate, and see if you really would have been a skating prodigy.”

He skates off, winking before resuming his practice.

You don’t have a chance to speak to him again until after the game, when you get at text from an unknown number reading “Rink, tomorrow, 2pm. I’ll bring skates, just bring your prodigy skills.”

After that, you meet with Nico twice a week for skating lessons.

The two of you quickly form a friendship, Nico bringing you coffee on gamedays and you slipping him snacks on the bench during games. You even started inviting him over for dinner after your lessons, insisting the least you can do is feed him to repay him for preventing you from making a fool of yourself on the ice.

Today, however, you did make a fool of yourself on the ice.

You were standing behind the net, telling the players to skate towards you so you could get some shots for the team’s Instagram account by request of the social media manager.

Once you were pleased with the amount of shots you had gotten, you left your spot from behind the net, skating slowly towards the benches, still a little wobbly on your skates.

You were looking down at your camera, thinking of how you’ll have to get Nico out here after the game to get some shots, knowing he’s currently doing pre-game interviews in the locker room.

You weren’t paying the slightest bit of attention to the pucks littering the ice in front of you, skating right into one and losing your balance, holding your camera up with one arm while trying to catch yourself with the other.

You felt the way your shoulder shifted, crying out in pain as players turned and started rushing towards you on the ice.

The team doctor came out and told you he was pretty sure your shoulder was simply dislocated, but sent you to the hospital to make sure nothing’s broken.

The ER doctor confirmed your diagnosis, putting your shoulder back into place before pumping you full of pain meds and placing your arm into a sling.

Which leads you to where you are now, back at your apartment, explaining to your mother why Nico can’t be at your beck and call.

“Honey, when are you going to realize that boy is in love with you? I’m telling you, the way I saw him look at you that day I came to visit, the skating lessons and dinners,” she starts, giving you her typical speech when you tell her Nico is just a friend.

“Mom, it doesn’t matter what you think you saw, we’re seriously just friends. And he’s busy, his schedule is too hectic to spend his time babysitting me,” you interrupt her, not wanting to hear her Nico speech for the thousandth time, regretting ever telling her about the skating lessons.

She sighs into the phone.

“I’m just trying to help you, you know…” you hear your mother start, but you tune the rest of her words out, focusing on the three loud knocks on your front door.

Your head turns to your door, the unexpected noise causing you to jump, the sudden motion tipping your bag over, the contents spilling all of your kitchen floor.

“Honey, are you alright? What was that?” your mom halts her one-sided conversation, worry in her tone.

“Shit!” you exclaim, watching the container of memory cards fly open, the small squares sliding across the linoleum floor.

You forget about the sling on your arm, crouching down and trying to reach for the cards with your bad arm, a searing pain shooting through your shoulder at the movement.

Letting out a loud yelp, you bring your arm back to its resting positing in the sling.

“Y/N, what’s going on? Did you hurt yourself?” you barely hear your mother’s voice through the phone speaker, not being able to think about anything other than the throbbing pain in your shoulder.

You hear three more pounds on your front door, this time a voice following the knocks.

“Y/N! Open up!”

You groan, trying to stand up, too many people trying to get your attention at the moment.

“Honey, talk to me. Is someone in there with you? I heard another voice,” your mother asks you as you stand, making your way over towards your front door.

“Someone’s knocking on the door,” you grit through your teeth, trying to think about anything but the pain in your shoulder. “I dropped my bag and tried to pick something up with my bad arm. I’m fine. Just hurts,” you tell her, opening your door to see a frantic Nico standing there.

His wide eyes scan your body, stopping once they see the sling on your arm.

You notice his wet hair and lack of socks on his tennis shoe covered feet.

“Are you okay? They told me you had to be taken to the hospital before the game started, but no one knew what really happened,” he rushed out, looking up at your face.

“Hey, Mom, gotta go, Nico’s at my door,” you tell her, a little stunned that the object of your conversation just appeared, hanging up the phone before she could make any comments about it.

“Yeah, I’m fine. Are you?” you ask him, pointing towards his feet, an amused smile on your face. The shock of seeing him at your door making you completely forget about the pain in your shoulder.

Nico looks down at his own feet, looking back up at you with red cheeks.

“Oh, uh, I couldn’t find my socks after the game and i couldn’t get you to answer your phone, so I rushed over to the hospital to see if you were still there, and they told me you left about an hour ago, so I hopped in my car and came over here to make sure you were okay,” he tells you, not meeting your eye.

You’re shocked at his confession, not expecting him to be so concerned about your impromptu trip to the hospital.

“Well, I’m here and still standing,” you awkwardly stand in your doorway, not knowing what else to say, thinking about how if you weren’t arguing with your mom over Nico on the phone, you might have gotten his calls.

“Yeah, I see that now,” he shoves his hands in the pocket of his hoodie.

The two of you stand there, not really knowing what to say to one another.

“Do you want to come in?” you ask him, moving out of the doorway to let him step into your apartment.

Nico shakes his head yes and walks past you, looking towards the mess on the floor in your kitchen.

“What happened here? Is this the crash I heard?” he asks you.

“Yeah, the bag fell and spilled everything. When I went to pick it up, I forgot and used my bad shoulder,” you gesture to your slinged arm.

Nico shakes his head at you, crouching down to pick up the camera disks all over the floor.

“Oh, no, you don’t have to-“

“Well you’re sure as hell not trying to pick them up again,” Nico interrupts you, standing and placing the now full box of disks on your table.

You roll your eyes at him, walking over towards your fridge.

“So, what exactly happened? Jack told me you hurt your shoulder?” he follows you over to your fridge, watching you scan its contents, or lack thereof.

“Well, I was looking at my camera and skated right into a bunch of pucks on the floor, then was too focused on saving the equipment instead of remembering how to fall properly,” you told him, remembering his words during your first skate lesson, telling you not to catch yourself if you fall on the ice.

“See, I told you to just let yourself fall. Never try to catch yourself,” he echoes his words in your thoughts.

“Yeah, well, it’s a lot easier said than done,” you deadpan, shutting your fridge door and looking at Nico.

Your stomach growls at that exact moment, making you groan at your lack of food in your fridge, not having eaten since before your accident.

“When was the last time you ate anything?” Nico asks you, looking down at your growling stomach.

“Uhhh, breakfast?” you recall.

Nico’s eyes widen. “It’s almost midnight. Did they really not feed you at the hospital?” he asks you.

“Considering they were busy doing x-rays and scans to make sure nothing was broken or torn, no,” you walk over to your cabinets, finding them also bare.

“Alright, go sit down and I’ll order us something to eat,” Nico shoos you out of the kitchen, walking over and opening the drawer where you keep all of your takeout menus.

You wonder how he knows where your menus are, forgetting for a moment that he’s over at your apartment at least twice a week after your skating lessons. Sometimes more, the occasional movie night making its way into your weekly routine.

“What do you want? Sushi? Chinese? Burgers?” he questions, flipping through your menus.

For some reason, your brain chooses this moment to register how much you enjoy the sight of Nico in your kitchen, looking through your takeout menus and offering to order you dinner.

You think back to all the times he’s helped you make dinner, laughter filling every moment of your time together. You think about how he always wear his pjs when he comes over for a movie night, bringing a different chocolate candy to put in the popcorn each time. You think about how he somehow learned your coffee order without you ever telling him, bringing you a coffee every morning, even at away games.

You think about your mother’s words, and how you didn’t even have to ask Nico to come over tonight, or to give you skating lessons. You think about how you never have to ask Nico to do anything he does for you – which is a lot, you’re realizing – he just does it. He does it because he wants to, because he’s kind and caring and wants to spend time with you.

“Hello? Earth to Y/N, what do you want for dinner?” Nico snaps you out of your sudden revelation.

“Sorry, spaced out for a second. Must be the pain meds,” you tell him, knowing that your mind isn’t the least bit impaired right now.

“Okay, go sit down, we need to get some food in you then,” he fishes his phone out of his pocket, mumbling out “Can’t believe they pumped you full of meds on an empty stomach.”

You make your way to your couch, sitting down and taking your shoes off, making yourself as comfortable as you can.

You remove a stray piece of hair that fell onto your face, knowing how awful it must look.

When you fell on the ice, the claw clip that was holding your hair in its up-do broke, causing it to fan out over the cold, wet ice. Once you got to the hospital, you were put in and out of so many different machines, you can only imagine the tangled, matted mess it is.

You get up and go to your bathroom, finding your brush and trying to comb it out. The task proving to be difficult with only one hand. The tangles keep pulling your head back and hurting your tender scalp, but you keep trying, whimpering each time the brush gets stuck on a particularly bad tangle.

You don’t even hear Nico approach your bathroom, just a sigh and “I told you to sit down,” before the brush is taken from your hand and you see Nico’s reflection behind you in the mirror.

Without another word, he proceeds to brush your hair for you, ensuring every tangle is gone before setting the brush on your sink.

The two of you make eye contact in the mirror, neither one wanting to break the silence during the surprisingly intimate moment.

You clear your throat, looking down after the silence got too intense, causing Nico to avert his eyes as well.

“I really wish i could wash my hair, but i know that’s a no go tonight,” you chuckle, wishing your bathroom was a little bit bigger in this moment.

“I can braid your hair for you,” Nico starts, staring at you in the mirror, watching your eyes snap up to meet his. “I mean, only if you want,” he stutters out.

“Really?” you ask him, a little stunned.

“Yeah. I used to help Nina with hers all the time when I was younger,” Nico mentions his older sister, grabbing your hair lightly and starting to section it off. “Anytime she would have a sleep over I would always weasel my way into the party. So one day, she made me sit in a braiding chain and learn how to braid her hair.”

You let out a giggle, picturing a smaller version of Nico sitting at the end of a line of girls, braiding their long hair.

“Then, Nina claimed I got so good at it she always wanted me to braid her hair before her volleyball matches, then her friends all started wanting me to do theirs, too,” he continues talking, nearly lulling you to sleep with the soft movements of his hands as you listen to him speak.

“I think that’s adorable,” you quietly speak, closing your eyes.

“What can I say? When a pretty girl needs her hair braided, who am I to keep my skills to myself?” he jokes, making you wonder if he meant you or his sister’s friends.

“I’m sure it’s any little boy’s dream to have an entire volleyball team at his mercy, all those pretty volleyball players begging him to play with their hair,” you tease him, handing him the hair tie that you always keep on your wrist.

“I don’t know, I think playing with a pretty photographer’s hair is better, if you ask me,” he ties the hair tie around the bottom of the braid, reaching up to pull the braid loose, making sure it’s not too tight.

You keep your eyes closed, knowing he can likely see the redness on your cheeks at his words.

“Alright, eyes open. Need to make sure you like my work,” he places his hands on your biceps, making sure to keep his touch feather light on your bad arm.

He turns you around so you’re facing him, holding a handheld mirror that was laying on your sink in front of your face, allowing you to see the reflection of the braid.

You’re shocked to see the flawless Dutch braid that cascades down your back.

“Nico, you’re like…really good at this,” you reach your good hand to the back of your head, running it down the braid.

“Told you, I had a lot of practice,” he shrugs, setting the mirror down.

You yawn, the relaxing nature of having your hair braided allowing you to realize how tired you are from the day’s events.

“Nuh-uh, gotta keep you awake until we get some food in you,” he tuts, taking his hands and patting your cheeks.

You groan, leaning into his palms that stay resting on your face.

“C’mon, let’s get you changed and on the couch,” he motions for you to leave the bathroom.

You walk to your room, Nico helping you carefully remove your sling before leaving and giving you some privacy.

You change into your pajamas, somehow managing to get your arm into an oversized Devils shirt you found at the bottom of your drawer.

Nico is standing outside of your door when you open it, helping you back into your sling.

He stands in front of you, staring at you with a look that you can’t decipher.

“Is…everything okay?” you question him, noticing his stare after adjusting your sling.

His eyes snap up to you, seemingly unaware that he was even staring at you in the first place.

“Uh, yeah, sorry. I just- is that my shirt?” he asks you, pointing to your pj shirt.

You look down at the oversized shirt, trying to think of where you got it.

It had just showed up in your laundry basket one day, assuming it was one they gave you when you got your job, but Nico’s question makes you think harder.

You realize, suddenly, you do remember where you got it.

During one of your post lesson dinners, Nico had spilled his drink all over his shirt. You offered to wash it for him after he changed to a shirt in his duffel.

You meant to take it back to him after you washed it, but forgot about it entirely, packing it away in your pajama drawer.

“Oh, crap, it is. Do you want it back, I can go change?” you ask him, worried he’s upset that you forgot to give it back.

“No…no it’s fine. Keep it. I have plenty,” he shakes his head, glancing down at it once more.

The two of you make your way to your couch, finding something to watch on tv when there’s a knock on the door, signaling the arrival of your food.

You start to stand to go get it, but Nico sternly tells you to stay put.

Rolling your eyes you sit back down, grabbing the remote and continuing to channel surf.

Nico’s gone for longer than you expect, causing you to sit up and turn back towards your kitchen, wondering what’s taking him so long.

You see him walking over to you, a tray full of food in his hands.

He had ordered from your favorite sushi place, figuring it would be the easiest for you to eat one handed.

As he sat down the tray on the coffee table in front of you, you realized what took him so long.

Nico had put a toothpick in each piece of your sushi, knowing using chopsticks with your non dominant hand would have been hard for you. He poured soy sauce into a small container, allowing you to simply pick up each toothpick and dip it in the sauce before popping it in your mouth.

He had also ordered you a bottle of cherry coke, which he knew was your favorite, and placed it on the tray with the lid unscrewed and a straw peeking out of the bottle next to a glass of ice, just incase you wanted it that way instead.

You looked up at him, feeling that funny feeling in your chest like you did earlier in your kitchen, blown away at how he always seems to think of everything he can to help you out, even when you’re not injured.

You must’ve been looking for longer than you realized, because he cocks his head at you, confusion present on his face.

“What?” he asks, not understanding what’s wrong. “Did you not want sushi? I thought you said it was always the one thing that could cheer you up?”

You shake your head at him. “No, sushi is perfect,” you tell him, a small smile on your face as you look up at him.

He smiles back for a few moments, then started scooting the coffee table towards you so you don’t have to reach to grab your food. He moves around the table to sit beside of you, the size of the small table causing him to sit so close to you that you can feel the warmness of his large thigh against yours.

You once again think about all of the things he’s done for you without you even having to ask. Now including coming over after a game—no doubt exhausted and sore—and taking care of you without even thinking twice. Braiding your hair and calling you pretty. Staring at you unintentionally wearing his t-shirt. Modifying your food so it’s easier for you to eat with one hand.

You sit there, staring at the man you fear you’re falling in love with, already planning out the apology text you’re going to have to send your mom.

[grandline-fics]

Hello ! May I request sick mornings for reader with Sabo or Law supporting? Like reader wakes up queazy and with a cough and then vomits. The more the day goes on, the more of a fever they have.

Hope you have/had a lovely day!

DESCRIPTION: You wake up sick but try to hide it from them

WARNINGS: descriptions of illness, comfort

CHARACTERS: Sabo, Law

WORDS: 1,214

A/N: Thank you for the request! I hope this is okay for you. Had to do something a little different for Law since I doubted you could hide sickness from him.

*REQUESTS ARE OPEN*

DIRECTORY | PROMPT LIST

———————

SABO

Ever since Sabo received the legacy of his brother’s Devil Fruit, you had adapted the the extra heat his body now gave off. Coupled with how he always slept with holding you close, you were more than used to waking feeling warm. This morning however was different. Normally you would eagerly seek the soothing warmth and curl in closer but this time you inched away from the almost suffocating heat of the room in the hopes it would ease and bring you some relief. When it still made no difference you pulled yourself closer to the edge of the bed with heavy limbs. Even sitting up was a greater struggle than normal, with slow steps you managed to get to the window and threw it open, letting out a shaky breath of relief when the cool air inched over your skin. 

It helped the heat but it wasn’t fully enough. You let out a groan as you felt the pain in your head sharpening the more your body woke. Gently you lay your forehead against the pane of glass and closed your eyes tightly trying to will the pain away. At the sound of your discomfort, Sabo’s fingers twitched against the sheets. Confused that it wasn’t your body against his touch his searched the space for you. When you weren’t within reach, his mind sharpened more and he finally lifted his head to look for you. “Babe? You okay?”

“Fine…just too warm.” You reassured, your voice thready and lacking its usual strength and Sabo could tell immediately that it wasn’t just from tiredness. Immediately he was out of the bed and approaching you, his hand settling on your back to rub it soothingly. As much as you wanted nothing more than to draw yourself closer into his touch you didn’t want to undo the work of managing to cool yourself down. Thickly swallowing, you took his hand into your own and gave it a quick squeeze. “Need to get ready.” 

Over breakfast Sabo eyed you carefully. Any outright attempt to check on you would lead to stubborn refusal to admit you weren’t yourself. Your movements were sluggish and your gaze on your meal was hazy, unfocused as you tried to force another spoonful of food into your mouth. On this attempt the spoon stopped at your lips and you quickly dropped it, pushing away from the table. When you left the dining hall Sabo was following closely behind, making it to the bathroom just in time to pull the hair from your face as you threw up into the toilet. 

“You don’t have to be here…” you groan, wiping the back of your mouth and despite your words you’re more than happy to curl up against his chest while he runs his fingers through your hair kiss the top of your head that was still in agony. “It’s gross.”

“Babe, we’ve fought bloody battles I can handle seeing this.” Sabo chuckled as he carefully eased you to your feet and led you back to bed. When you were snugly against the pillows he draped a damp, cool cloth against your forehead. “Now we’re going to get you some painkillers and medicine and lots of bed rest. No arguments.”

“Sure Chief.” You mumbled, pushing the cloth closer against your head. “Whatever you say.”

“No arguing?” Sabo asked before giving a low whistle as he made his quiet exit to get what you needed to feel better. “You really are sick.”

LAW

It’s impossible to hide sickness from Law. He’s a doctor and he’s trained to see the signs. You haven’t escaped his notice for the last couple of days. You overexerted yourself on the last island, doing double the tasks than originally anticipated after the crew got separated into groups due to a heavy snowstorm. Adding in the tumultuous weather, fluctuating temperatures and constant traveling with little time to rest it was a recipe for sickness. On your first evening back on the Polar Tang your throat began to scratch and you began to clear your throat more than you should. You knew that getting an early night would have been the wise thing but you had your night duties to take care of so you pushed through. By the time you crawled into bed with Law you were shivering and feeling the pressure behind your eyes, pressing against the bridge of your nose, and it felt like you’d swallowed glass. 

Law woke in the early hours of the morning to the feeling of you shifting restlessly, you weren’t quite awake but you weren’t fully asleep either but that was soon to change. His eyes slowly opened to watch you push yourself up from your lying position on your stomach, beginning to cough. The sound was low at first, the rattle in your chest already audible as the coughing persisted. With a groan as the coughing subsided you dragged yourself out of bed, trying to suppress the next bout of coughing you knew would be on its way. You needed to get to a different room so you didn’t disturb Law. Reaching out you felt your way through the dark room, trying not to let the slow rock of the sub as it sailed underwater throw you off your already unsteady balance. When you reached the bedroom door you staggered only to fall back and find yourself on the bed. 

“You’re awake?” Your voice was thick and weak. You turned your head away to cough harshly into your elbow. Exhausted and sore you fell back against the pillows but tried to pull yourself away from being so close to Law. “Sorry.”

Law rolled his eyes and reached out, effortlessly dragging you back to the centre of the bed so he could roll you onto your side and rub soothing circles onto your back. “What’s your symptoms?”

“Just a cold, Doc. I’ll be okay with some rest.” You reported, managing to lift your sore limbs to manage your temples in the hopes of relieving the growing headache. You hated getting sick. You hated having to lie down. It was just a cold you told yourself. It wasn’t going to stop you from doing your duties. “You got stuff to do Law, we both do.” 

When you made a move to get up again, Law acted. Thanks to your lethargy he didn’t even need to be fast. His arm wrapped around your waist and he pulled you closer, his loose weight alone enough to keep you in place, his smirk appearing at the sound of your stubborn mutterings and curses. “If you can’t even get out of this, then you’re too sick to work. I’m not even trying.”

“Make me feel worse why don’t you?” You grumbled weakly, the feeling of Law’s low rumbling chuckle vibrating against you. 

“I’ll get you something to feel better but you have to promise to stay put.” Law hushed you with a quick kiss against your cheek. Slowly he lifted his hand but stayed lying beside you for a few moments to ensure you were going to behave. When he knew you would stay in bed he finally rose to get you the needed supplies. He wasn’t going to leave your side until you were back on your feet.  

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TAG LIST (If I've missed anyone or if you want to be added just let me know) @3v37773, @tsaaps , @i-am-all-love-puns-and-lazy , @sanemisnonexistenteyebrow , @fiery-captain-spider-santa @kabloswrld , @atanukileaf , @ane5e , @chaotic-on-main

[sitkainsnow]

Desperately need a fic from a police officer’s pov and they watch SuperBat interactions bc like all the cops either hate or love Bats, but are still kinda terrified of him, but ofc Supes is all sunshine and smiles and “He’s my best friend y’all!” And they KNOW bats probably totally has kryptonite and an attitude worse than the devil.

So they end up in a situation where they’re working together and Batman in taking with the police and Superman’s standing behind him waving and smiling at everyone while Batman is giving single-word or just huffs for answers. And then Superman freezes and cocks his head and to everyone’s surprise grabs Batman by the shoulder and whispers something in his ear and then what’s more surprising is Batman doesn’t even mind as he wraps his own arm around Supes and then they’re gone in a blur of blue and Black. All the cops are just left standing there like 🧍‍♂️shocked bc Bats didn’t mind Supes touching him.

Or another instance where it’s after this big battle in Gotham and it’s with whatever villain but Superman is there too and the villain had kryptonite. Anyways so after the battle Bats is talking to the police and handing over the villain and Superman comes over after talking to the civilians, picks Bats up by the scruff mid sentence politely nods to the officers he was talking too, and moves him a couple feet away and just starts yelling at Bats abt how stupid it is for him to run around jumping in the way of heavy blows EVEN if they have kryptonite and Bats just scoffs and turns his head away and all the police on the area watch as Superman and Batman argue about how stupid it is to risk your life to save the other (they both did it) completely oblivious to their audience and the police whose POV it’s in just thinks “god they sound like a married couple. Wouldn’t it be crazy if the two of the worlds greatest hero’s were actually a couple lmao. But that’s crazy they’re just really good friends”

Gordon watched all this trying not to blow his fuse bc yes, Batman does need to be yelled at, and yes, he does need to prioritize his safety more, but NO, you don’t need to be having your lovers quarrel in front of the whole damn GCPD.

Or in another instance Batman racks up a bunch of charges on him for whatever reason and the GCPD by luck manages to arrest him and so here comes Superman trying to bail his partner(in more ways than one) out of prison and the police are like “we’re really sorry Mr. Superman sir but we can’t legally do that” and Supes goes “what the hell did he even do” and so the officer goes “Property Damage, unlawful violence, arson, punched a cop in the face and broke his nose, caught carrying weed which is illegal in the state of New Jersey, multiple -and I mean multiple- unpaid speeding tickets. Oh, and the DMV wanted us to talk to him about his unregistered Batmobile and Batbike.”and Supes is about to cry as he quietly asks “Okay, so how much is bail” And the officer looks away and mumbled “sixteen grand” and Supes gasps and cries out “I don’t get paid enough for sixteen grand!!”

However thirty minutes later Supes is back at the GCPD station shakily counting out bills bc he can’t use a check or card (obvi) sweating heavily and looking extremely pained. The cops don’t even ask where he got all those bills so quickly and just watch him and another 30minutes later Bats is out and Supes is shaking him by his shoulder shouting “so who’s gonna lag me back!! Who’s gonna reimburse me for for 16k?? Whose gonna apologize for the heart palpitations you gave me?? Whose gonna apologize for all the gray hairs this is going to give me?? You’re giving me gray hairs all the time B!! I can’t do this!!” And Batman just sighs and pats Superman on the back as they walk out of the station and Superman is mumbling about bank credit and loans and how bad he looks with wrinkle lines and gray hair sounding like he’s about to cry.

Meanwhile the police try not to loose their minds throughout this whole interaction and Gordon’s just staring at the door blankly smoking a cigar and the police whose POV it’s in looks at the cigar a little bit closer and goes “That smells like weed” and Gordon looks at her and just says “I feel for Superman a bit more than I want to”

[bitchimasnake-sss]

one last time ft. vinsmoke sanji!

a/n: continuation of my time travel series as asked by anon!! sanji, lost you when you were both 27. now, three years later, aged 30, the cook travels back in time and sees you again. *cue angst* not proofread, im so sorry for mistakes!

warnings: none!! just my crappy attempts of writing angst tbh

"it makes no sense" nami mumbled, peering down intensely at the old cook as if examining her personal lab rat. the alleged thirty year old had materialized in the main room of the going merry through thin air; and nami had almost knocked him out with her staff.

"nami-swan let me-" the man tried to speak but the red-head cut him off, "you ate a devil fruit and you traveled back in time?"

"you're so gorgeous even when you boss me around-""

"sanji." nami cocked an eyebrow.

sanji sighed lightly, trying to reason, "well, i mean i actually ate like just half a bite of it. i don't think this time travel thing is permanent. i'll be out of your gorgeous hair in just a minute"

"no, you being here isn't the issue." nami corrected herself, "i think im just surprised is all. the idea that there exists something like this is just-"

but someone barged into the room before she could finish.

"what the fuck?" the swordsman looked at sanji, taken aback by the sudden blondie appearance, "he looks awfully like the shit-cook."

"it's nice to see you too, moss-head"

"ah-" nami groaned at the swordsman appearance, "well, i guess i'll explain to everybody. out on deck, both of you"

"why are you so tall?" zoro gave the older cook a nasty look.

"zoro, out."

"why is he so tall-"

｡･::･ﾟ★,｡･::･ﾟ☆

"so..." the younger, blonde man asked, "you're me but 30?"

the older man shrugged, "yes, pretty much."

"i cannot believe you committed to the bangs look for over a decade, sanji" you giggled, looking from the older version to the younger one.

"if you like it, then i can keep it for the rest of eternity, my love."

you laughed again, sending the cook an amused look, "sure, i like it."

while the younger cook was swooned at your words, sending you a love-struck gaze. the older was busy contemplating whether he wanted to hug you so hard till his ribs broke down and he disintegrated within you, or if he should keep his distance, saving himself all that hurt.

your hair was choppier and the strands moved gently in the wind, the tresses cashmere kisses against your sun-kissed skin. all the signs of aging were absent from your skin, all those signs of you and him together were gone, just like that. as if you and he hadn't existed at all.

there was no scar on your lips from the time you fell down in the dark while sleepy, no cuts on your arms and legs from battles long gone. every evidence of the life you and sanji had built together was gone, leaving a twenty-three year old you behind.

well, technically that life was yet to come. it would take you and his younger version another five months, 23 days and 6 hours till you both got together. atleast, if his calculations were correct.

it would take you another 9 years, 2 months and 4 days to leave him. he knew those calculations by heart.

and so, sanji held back the urge to ask you if you liked two sugars in your coffee right now too? and did you light up when the moon was out in all it's glory? did your favourite constellation stay the same as years passed you by? did you look the same when you kissed him awake? did-

instead, he said nothing and stared at you, transfixed.

when ussop shook the older cook awake, the blonde man gave the younger crew members a pained smile. and when luffy jumped up and down, asking whether the cook still cooked, sanji found himself laughing and offering to make a meal.

atleast, this way, he could resign himself to an old kitchen, boundless memories and endless suffering, away from your ghastly presence.

the door stood ajar and you slipped inside just as silently like you always did when you wanted to surprise him in the kitchen. he looked up from the chopping board, well-versed with every one of your silent exchanges.

"want some help?" you offered, walking over leisurely and standing opposite to the man on the kitchen island.

the man looked down, focusing on not cutting his fingers up, "uh- no, thanks."

"damn, did you change?"

"hm?"

"where's the added "my love", "mon cheri" or "darling" at the end?" you cocked up an eyebrow, giving him a confused look, "don't tell me you lost those with time, that'll be a real shame."

sanji looked up, dumbstruck at you.

ofcourse he didn't. how could he? how could he when you were all that and more to him. under breathy whispers, loud declarations of love and silent hums in the dark of the night, you were every stringed syllable in every language to him.

he must have been silent for too long cause you shook your palm in front of him, paranoia sewn into your skin, "i mean it's okay if you lost it. like, it's not that big of a deal-"

and sanji laughed.

"excuse me? it's not nice to laugh at a lady."

"you looked so adorable like that." he looked down at the chopped vegetables, hands skillfully adding the veggies to the heated pan. then he looked up through his eyebrows, skillfully avoiding your gaze fully, "you're quite cute, love."

"uh-" your ears went red and you looked away, "thanks? y-you too."

"how have you been, yn?" he looked back at the food, his voice was tender. every hitch of the breath was audible against the backdrop of distant laughs from the crew.

"oh?" you replied shocked. then you smiled, "good. i'm good."

"good?" he repeated, ever so slowly as if turning the word on the tip of his tongue to remember the way you said it.

"yeah, i've been good, sanji."

"i'm glad." he pursed his lips, turning his back to you under the lie of fetching bowls from the cabinet.

"what are you cooking?" you asked, leaning over and peering at the vessel on the stove.

even without turning, he said, "you'd lose balance, careful now."

you marveled at the simmering dish, looking at his back and smiling real big, "you're cooking hand-pulled noodles with broth?! i think its my new favourite dish! i tasted it like a few days ago and i've been dying to eat it againn"

sanji smiled, still turned away from you, "is that so?"

as much as sanji prided himself at his ability to identify you from lightyears apart, at his ability to hear you in the noisiest room, he must have not been paying attention.

because you had sneaked up behind him and pressed yourself against his back, giving him a hug. you smiled gummy against his back muscles, "thankyou! thankyou! thankyouuu!!"

sanji froze under your casual touch. after a second, mindlessly, he lay his bigger hands on top of yours, relishing in the way you felt under him. he closed his eyes, trying to etch the moment in his memories. then he smiled again, promising against the thin air, "i will make you this as many times as you ask me."

"really?" you beamed again, letting go and standing beside him, "promise me?"

"i promise you." he gave you curt nod, melting under every one of your happy dance moves.

"now i would bother you for the rest of our lives." you stuck out your tongue at the blonde man.

"i would rather not be bothered by anyone but you, my love."

"aww-"

"hey geezer." the younger cook stood at the door, eyeing the negligible distance between you and the older man, "get away from yn-chan, you fucking pervert."

"rich coming from you, mr. nosebleed" the older man gave the younger a dirty look.

"HEY THATS NOT MY FAULT"

"SAAAANJI" luffy whined from outside, "ARE YOU DONEEE? WE'RE STARVINGGGG-"

vinsmoke sanji, aged thirty, yelled back "YEAH LEARN TO WAIT SOME MORE."

"YOU'RE SO MEAN SANJI! I MEAN- OLDER SANJI? I MEAN SANJI??- alee? I MEAN THE COOK OF MY SHIP?? NO, THE COOK OF MY FUTURE SHIP-"

"JUST SHUT UP LUFFY." the two blondes yelled in unison and you laughed one last time, lighting up the kitchen on fire.

oh wait, no. that is just the smoke due to the burning veggies in the pan.

well, fuck.

atleast you were laughing. and sanji would have killed entire nations to see that sight again, so, what were a few vegetables for the sacrifice?

[thetreefairy]

Could you do another platonic yandere gojo where the reader refuses to call him papa or dad or sensei or anything after he kidnaps them so the reader just keeps calling him gojo? How would he react ?

Post mentioned : A purge with little chances

Warnings: yandere themes, manipulation, silent treatment, purge au, kinda angst? swearing, restraining, gojo hurts reader on purpose, not really explicit so-

Gn student reader, reader does have curly coded hair

Kofi - main masterlist

Dad loves you

Gojo had it all planned out, he would have an adorable child and Megumi would keep them company when he couldn't.

And after Reader's adaption period the other students would be able to visit them too, maybe even taking them out on trips with his other students.

But Reader wasn't doing what he planned,

to be fair, they were stuck on their bed with broken legs and needed to ask him for help on the most basic things. Which, in his mind, was holding back the adaption period.

Reader was quiet and loved being alone, something he found rather adorable.

But Reader still hasn't called him any variation of dad, and even stopped calling them sensei!

So today he got Megumi to come over and try to find out why Reader isn't calling him by his proper title as their yandere caretaker.

"Reader," Megumi started. "Wanna talk?"

Reader looked Megumi, giving him a side eye and ignoring him as well. Reader didn't have the energy to deal with them, they just couldn't.

This caused Gojo to walk over to their bed and pressing on their leg, causing Reader to gasp out in pain. "You will talk to Megumi," He hissed. "I'll go away for an hour, I expect Megumi to tell me how it went."

This caused Reader to glare at him, their eyes full with tears. "How about we do your hair, huh?" Megumi asked. "Teacher has no idea how to take care of it."

This caused Gojo to stick his tongue out as he left and shouted: "Be good!"

And that's how you were now being pampered by your old best friend while he was trying to convince you to at least call Gojo father. You just cried.

"I don't want to acknowledge him as my dad." Reader mumbled. "Teacher has been kind to you, so why don 't you want to?" Megumi asked with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you stupid?" Reader hissed. "He took away my freedom, my choices, this bitch even fucked up my hair while i finally had some type of hair care!"

Megumi rolled his eyes. "You are so petty, you know that this is how the purge goes."

Reader gave him the middle finger, knowing full well he's saying that to pain Gojo in a good light.

And speaking of the devil

"Awhh, Megumi you got Reader's hair to look pretty!" Gojo greeted the two. "You should teach me sometime, or Reader can!"

Reader was still ignoring him, much to his annoyance, and from the look on Megumi's face. It wasn't gonna change soon, so perhaps he needed some drastic manners, maybe he should take away all their freedoms.

"Megumi, thank you for babysitting, I'll take it over." Megumi knew that look on Gojo's face. "Stay calm, they are simply acting out of frustation." Megumi whispered in Gojo's ear as he left.

But he didn't care anymore, he carried Reader to their bed, while their legs were healing, perhaps they shouldn't be. Maybe he should restrain Reader to the point they are nothing but a hopeless baby.

Maybe then they would call him dad or pa.

While reader was ignoring them, he decided to apply pressure to their legs rather severe. "Gojo- Stop!" Reader shouted, breaking their silence while holding back sobs. "Shh." He whispered, Reader was sure their legs broke again.

"Dad loves you, he's just doing this for your safety." He whispered in Reader's ear. "Dad will protect you."

[little-diable]

Bathroom fun - Spencer Reid (smut)

I saw a clip yesterday and had this idea, so I needed to get this out of my system. Pure, filthy pwp. Please like and reblog if you enjoyed reading this, your comments keep us writers motivated! Enjoy my loves. xxx

Summary: Spencer gave the reader some crotchless panties to wear for the party they were invited to, some rushed fun takes place in the bathroom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, piv, somewhat public, only pwp, spanking, dom!Spencer

Pairing: Spencer Reid x fem!reader (1k words)

A gasp left her as his hand found her waist, pulling her closer until she could feel his breath falling her neck. It had been a while since they had arrived at the annual summer party, enjoying time with their colleagues and faces they hadn’t seen in a while.

“Are you having fun, baby?” Spencer pressed a kiss to her neck to make goosebumps rise on her skin. (Y/n) could only nod her head while taking another sip of her drink, trying not to embarrass herself with a crowd so close by. A soft whimper left (y/n), rumbling through her as he squeezed her waist again. “My needy girl, tell me, are you wearing them?”

Heat rose in her system, remembering the small box he had pushed into her hands hours ago, crotchless panties he had commented with a simple “You know how much I hate wasting precious time.” Eager as one can be, she had put them on, trying to ignore the unfamiliar sensation as she put on a smile for those who were all too unaware of her and Spencer’s game.

“Of course I am.” It was nothing but a whimper, a sound that made him chuckle with pride thumping through his veins. Spencer slowly let go of (y/n) to take another sip of his drink before he cleared his throat.

“Meet me in the bathroom in five.” Without looking back at her, he walked towards their colleagues, joining in on their conversation as (y/n) found her way towards the big house. By now, she knew the layout by heart, finding her way to the bathroom with trembling things and her breath hitched in her chest.

Only as the door fell shut behind her, locked by her shaking fingers, did (y/n) allow herself to breathe. No matter how long she had been with Spencer by now, she still wasn’t used to his teasing, their back and forth that made her tremble with delight and anticipation.

She ran a hand through her hair, eyes studying her reflection in the mirror while the minutes passed by. The sound of Spencer knocking on the door made her jump, ripped out of her sinful thoughts. Their eyes met the second he stepped into the space, lips finding (y/n)’s for a bruising kiss. He locked the door again, knowing that even though they couldn’t waste much time, he didn’t like taking risks like these.

Spencer pulled away to turn her around, eyes meeting again in the mirror as he pushed her skirt up her waist, groaning at the sight of her bare cunt. The thin material he had bought for her hugged her behind perfectly, and yet he could only focus on the bare part that was aching for his touch.

He freed his cock with skilled movements while she held onto the sink, preparing herself for a quick and rough fuck that would rob her of the ability to walk straight. Spencer spat into his palm to pump his hard cock a few times before he pushed into her tightness. Arousal dripped from her heat, instantly coating his warm skin.

Both moaned in unison as he bottomed out, allowing her to feel him deep inside before he started to move with a rough rhythm. Their bodies met with every thrust, pushed towards the edge as if the Devil was chasing them, punishing the two sinners for giving in to their lust while others were all too close by.

“Christ, I won’t ever get used to how perfectly you fit around me.” His raspy words left (y/n) mewling his name, high on the feeling of his cock ripping her walls apart. Spencer left his marks on her waist with his tight grip, digging his fingers into her skin to keep (y/n) as close as possible, all while she was torn between lust and pain.

“Spencer,” she choked on his name, eyes rolling back into her head as his hand came down on her behind. It was a silent warning to stay quiet, to let him fuck her while he chased both their highs.

“Touch yourself, baby.” (Y/n) struggled to let go of the sink with one hand, clinging to it with the other while her fingers found her pulsing bundle. Another moan clawed through her - a sound he punished her for with his hand striking her warm skin again.

She rolled her head back against his chest with a whimper, eyes squeezed shut as the intense feeling grew heavier and heavier deep inside of her. Her body was littered in goosebumps, fully focused on the feeling thumping through her veins as Spencer fucked her over the edge.

His hand found her mouth to muffle her sounds, keeping her quiet while his hips kept meeting her behind. Spencer’s smirk grew wider, mischievous eyes watching her come undone with a pleasure-drunken expression.

It only took him a few more seconds before he also came, painting her walls white to leave his imprint on her skin. Only then did Spencer let go of her mouth, allowing a soft laugh to leave (y/n) - a sound that turned into a groan as he pulled out of her. Spencer cleaned them before he turned her towards him, lips meeting hers for a soft kiss.

“Careful out there, baby, don’t want you getting hurt when I’ve got some more plans for us.” He squeezed her aching, now covered ass one last time before he stepped away to unlock the bathroom and pull (y/n) out into the empty hallway. And with a knowing smirk growing on both their lips, they couldn’t help but feel excited about the awaiting night.

[heizlut]

Me & The Devil

alternative (dual yandere) version here

cw: non-con, dub-con, heavy manipulation, gaslighting, somnophilia, dacryphilia, yandere, DARK CONTENT

this fic is no joke when it comes to darker content, extreme trigger warning. read at your own risk

tags: yandere!dottore, fem!reader, mostly proofread but there still may be some minor errors here and there

word count: 4.5k this is the longest one i’ve written so far.

check out my masterlist here!

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

Finally you have a chance to break free. The sound of your bare feet slap against the cold floor as you try to run for an exit. Your breathing is heavy, teary eyes full of hope thinking that today is the day you can finally escape him. Right before you can reach the exit, a large hand grips your arm tightly, causing you to stumble and fall to your hands and knees. You’re flipped over onto your back with him looming over you with a smirk on his face, “Going somewhere, my love?”. Dottore. How did this even start? When did it even start?

—

You were just a curious akademiya student. Many said you were too curious for your own good but you always brushed them off. You couldn’t help that you were so curious about the things that were forbidden to be researched. The more someone tells you not to do something, the more you want to just say ‘fuck it’ and do it anyways. It didn’t help when you found some curious files and notes left behind from a student named Zandik. After asking around and getting strange looks from others, you were about to give up on this Zandik guy. You bumped into something hard causing you to drop the notes and files you had found and you land hard on your ass. When you looked up, you saw a tall man with blue hair wearing a mask that hid his features.

He didn’t think anything of you at first until he saw what had scattered on the ground. With a smirk, he held out his hand to you, “I apologize. I must not have been paying attention to where I was going.” You grabbed his hand, trying not to wince at the pain from having landed so hard, “I should be the one to apologize. I’m the one who ran into you.” The man laughed it off and bent down to help you gather your papers which caused you to push him away.

Your reaction made him raise an eyebrow under his mask, “What? Do you have something to hide, little one?” You felt your face heat up at the accusation and the nickname. It felt like he could see right through you, “N-no.. It’s just-“ You sighed as you gathered your thoughts. “If you’d like, we could go somewhere else if you’d like to tell me about it?”, he offered with a smile that you couldn’t quite decipher. You nodded and gave a small smile in return, “It would be nice to have someone to share this with. Thank you.”

The man you learned was named Dottore. He listened to everything you explained with just a sly smirk on his face. The mask he wore made it hard for you to decipher his true feelings, but the fact that he had sat there and listened with some sort of intrigue to what you were saying made you feel like you were finally understood. He made no move to berate you for what you chose to have an interest in.

Little did you know that the files and notes you had found were all from him and his previous research from before he was expelled from the akademiya and changed his name. He was more than happy to entertain your curiosity. It shocked you when he offered his hand to you for the second time that day and asked if you would like to pursue your curiosities further with him as your mentor. You stared at him in surprise, then you took his hand. That’s where it all began.

—

At first, Dottore kept some distance from you. You didn’t mind as you were so caught up in finally being able to pursue your true interests. Little by little he began to cut you off from the rest of the world without you paying it any mind. It started with him offering for you to stay one night since it had gotten late. He said he worried about you going home alone in the dark. You naively accepted and soon it became a habit to stay with him after long days of researching and experimenting together. Dottore was good at hiding his true intentions and the dark things he was doing without your knowledge. You had no idea the other types of experiments he conducted. He was so careful to show you only what he wanted you to see.

Next he made an offhand comment about you just dropping out of the akademiya and studying under him full time. He had only said it when you came to his place after yet another tough day at the akademiya. You were going on and on about how you wish you could fully pursue your true interests without interference. After he made the comment about you just dropping out, you gawked at him for a few moments to which he smiled, “It’s all up to you. But just know… You’ll never reach your true potential if you’re trapped under the akademiya’s thumb.” You mulled over his words.

What he said was true. You just wanted your freedom. To do as you pleased without anyone getting in the way or giving you dirty looks or rejecting your proposals time and time again. “I can give you everything you need. All you need to do is say the word.”, is what he said as he watched the gears turn in your head. You looked up at him, letting out a breath you didn’t realize you were holding, “I’ll drop out. Just promise me that you’ll help me pursue what I want.”

The smile on his face grew. If you hadn’t been so naive to his real intentions, you would have noticed that his smile held insanity and obsession. He wanted you all to himself and he was finally getting closer to what he wanted.

—

Days turned to weeks, which turned to months. Dottore was everything to you whether you had realized it or not. You had fallen right into his trap. You had become dependent on him, cut off from the world around you. When was the last time you saw the sun or felt it warm your skin? You didn’t really seem to care. You had gotten incredibly far with your research all thanks to Dottore’s help. He gave you everything you needed. Everything you wanted. No questions asked. He never even asked for anything in return.

Now that began to bother you. You felt like you had to repay him in some way but whenever you brought it up, he would brush it off with a laugh and smile saying that seeing you happy with what you were accomplishing together was more than enough. You always failed to notice the way his gaze on you would change when your back was turned to him. The way it travelled down your body, taking in every inch of you, committing it to memory… It was dark and hungry…

You had reached up to grab a new test tube from a shelf you couldn’t quite reach when you suddenly felt hands touch your waist. A hard chest pressed against your back. Hot breath on your neck… “Let me get that for you.” You blush at the closeness. Dottore had never touched you like this. You didn’t see him as anything other than a mentor and a friend. He never made it known that he had felt anything different for you.

You didn’t know whether you liked his touch or closeness or if you wanted to push him away. You were frozen. Conflicted. You snap out of your thoughts when he let out a breathy laugh, the test tube held in front of your face, “Aren’t you going to take it?” You swallow hard and take the test tube from his hands, muttering your thanks.

His hands linger, moving down your body. You swear you could feel something hard poking your ass but you shake your head to push the thoughts away. There’s no way he thought of you like that. No way you thought of him like that. Sure he was handsome in his own strange way but you never really saw him this way. You turn around to move from his grasp only to be pushed further into the shelf, the spare glassware rattled from the impact.

Dottore’s sly smile. The dark look in his eyes. It made you shiver. “What’s going on in that pretty little head of yours, huh? Anything you want to share?”, he was taunting you. You just knew he was. You gently push him away to create distance and he lets you, letting out a small laugh, “You don’t have to tell me. Your face says it all.” Your eyes widen at his words and you quickly make your way back to your experiment table.

—

Nothing else happened for awhile after that. It bothered you. Did he really see you as something more than just someone he was mentoring? You feel yourself grow slick with arousal as you lay in your bed. You kept replaying the way he looked at you, the way he touched you… You let out an annoyed groan as you rub your thighs together to quell the aching need you were feeling. You couldn’t be thinking of him this way. You didn’t even know what your feelings were towards him, let alone his feelings towards you. You let yourself fall asleep, frustrated, sexually and emotionally.

He stood there over your sleeping form. His cock stirring to life and he rubbed himself through his pants at how innocent and soft you looked as you slept. You turned onto your back in your sleep, muttering his name. His eyes squeezed shut as he palmed himself with even more pressure. You had said his name in your sleep.

You must be dreaming about him. Dottore lets out a soft groan of satisfaction. His sweet little student was thinking of him even in their sleep. He pulled his aching cock from his pants, pumping his length over your sleeping form.

Suddenly you let out a soft, breathy moan of his name, causing him to release all over your face with a choked groan of his own. He smirked as he kneeled down next to you, tucking himself back into his pants, and admiring how much prettier you looked with his cum splattered across your sweet face. He takes his finger, running it through his release. Once he gathered some on his finger he gently pressed it into your slightly parted mouth.

He hoped that you would wake up with the taste of his essence still on your tongue. Dottore removed his shirt and used it to gently wipe the remaining cum off your face. He pressed a kiss to your forehead and whispered, “Sweet dreams, little one.”

—

You woke up the next day with a strange taste in your mouth. You swallow a few times to get rid of the foreign taste which doesn’t help. You sigh, pushing yourself up to sit on your bed, your knees pressed tightly to your chest. Flashes of the dream you had the night before flutter through your mind. Images of Dottore touching you even more than he did that day in the lab against the shelves. Images of him kissing your neck and down your body…

The dream felt so real, you swear you could almost feel the lingering touch of his soft lips and calloused hands on your body. You faintly remember when the dream changed to him entering your room, jerking his cock over your body as he came on your face. The strange taste in your mouth comes to mind but you brush it off. It was all just a dream… right?

You let the water from the shower run down your body as you feel yourself starting to overthink everything that had to do with Dottore. He was just your mentor. You had to keep it that way or you may risk him finally kicking you out and leaving you on your own. The thoughts made you realize just how much he consumed your life little by little. You were in too deep to let it all fall apart just because you were confused by your feelings. You needed him.

—

A few days had gone by. Things seemed to have gone back to how they always used to be between you and Dottore. You felt like maybe you were just crazy for thinking he saw you as something more than just his student. Little did you know that Dottore was planning even more deep in his twisted mind. His careful image and manipulation guided you exactly where he wanted you. Dependent. Needing him. For everything. He wanted your thoughts to be on him. Only him.

As time went on, you noticed the little lingering touches he gave you. The way he would press himself against you. How close he would get, just inches from your face with that sly smile on his own mostly hidden face. It was driving you insane. You were so confused. Did you want him as more than a mentor to your forbidden research? No. You couldn’t. You didn’t want to.

You sat across from Dottore, pushing the food around your plate with your chopsticks, caught up in your own thoughts. He studied you curiously, wanting to pry into your mind, “Is everything alright? You know you can tell me anything. I’ll listen.” You snap out of your thoughts, looking up at him with a dazed expression, “What are we doing…” He tilts his head slightly at your words, “What do you mean by that? We are research partners. I am your mentor. Does that not satisfy you?” Your face heats up, “N-no.. I-I mean it does satisfy me. Thank you for everything you’ve done for me. You didn’t have to do all this-“

Before you could continue rambling he cuts you off, his palms pressed against the table as he leans over it. So close to you now… “Always so humble and sweet…” Dottore tucks a strand of your hair behind your hair and leans even closer, “Too bad I’m not satisfied.”

His words chill you to the bone. You’re frozen in place as he smirks, “Be mine. I can give you even more than what I give you now. After all… it’s only fair.. You owe me so much…” You push him away, quickly standing from your seat, “No.” He looks up at you, a dangerous glint in his eyes as a distorted smile creeps onto his face. He stands up, walking closer to you. Your heart is pounding, threatening to break free from the confines of your chest. “No?”, He laughs, but there is no humour in it. “You think you can tell me no?”

Dottore moves to caress your cheek, but you grip onto his wrist before he can. He huffs out a laugh, a crazed look in his eyes. He grabs both your wrists in one hand, pinning you to the wall, “You think you can stop me? You think I don’t know about the way you think about me? The sweet little dreams you have of me…” Your face pales. How did he know about the dreams…?

He now caresses your cheek with his free hand as if you were truly his lover all this time, “You’re easy to read, little one…” You try to squirm from his grasp only to make his smile grow wider, “You’re not going to leave me. Not now…” He leans in close to your ear and whispers, “Not ever.” He nips at your earlobe, pulling a gasp from your throat. You don’t want this. Maybe you do… Maybe he deserves it after all he’s done for you… No. No. Stop thinking like this. Suddenly you feel dizzy. Was it the way he had you pinned against the wall? How close he was? No. He had drugged your portion of the food. He smirks as your vision begins to fade to nothingness. “Mine.”

—

Your eyes slowly blink open. You move to stretch, only to find that your wrists have been cuffed to a metal bedpost. You look down and sigh in relief to see that you still had the clothes on that you had the night before. That was last night… right? Your heart jumps in your chest when Dottore appears in the room with a tray of food. “What’s going on? Please let me go, I promise I’ll do whatever you want”, you plead desperately. He just smiles and sets the tray down on the nightstand by the bed before sitting down on the bed. He reaches out and tucks a strand of your hair behind your ear, “I’m afraid I can’t do that, little one.”

A tear slips down your cheek as you turn from his gaze. He clicks his tongue as he gently wiped the tear away, “Now, now. There’s no need for tears. Haven’t I treated you so well? What is there to cry about?” His saccharine voice made your heart ache. You turn to face him again, looking at him with glassy eyes and bottom lip trembling. Dottore tilts his head as he studies your expression.

He admits to himself that the sight stirs something within him and the feeling was not sympathy. He reaches for the bowl of warm soup on the tray and scoops a small bit into the spoon and holds it to your lips, “Be careful now. It’s still a bit hot.” You look from the soup spoon to his eyes, then back down. You give in and part your lips slightly. Your obedience bringing a smile to his face as he feeds you the first spoonful, “Such a good girl.”

You sputter from the heat, the soup dribbles down your chin causing Dottore to click his tongue again in annoyance as he slams the bowl back down onto the tray, “What a waste.” His voice is sharp and it feels as though it cuts right through you. Before you can apologize and beg for another chance, he begins tearing open your shirt; buttons flying across the room. He cups one on your breasts as he looks into your frightened eyes, then he squeezes.

You can’t help but bite down on your bottom lip as a sick sense of pleasure washes over you. Dottore chuckles softly at your change in demeanor and begins pinching your pebbled nipple between his fingers, “See? You like it…” You shake your head in defiance but he quickly grabs your throat with his other hand, “Don’t try to deny it.” The hand toying with your breasts travels down to your thigh and one finger presses against your soaked panties.

Dottore smirks at you as he moves your panties to the side and presses down on your clit with his thumb, drawing a small whimper from you, “Your little cunt is so soaked, it’s just begging for me to claim it.” You can’t help the tears that slip down your cheeks. You feel so ashamed for enjoying his touch when you felt that you shouldn’t be. You feel like you’ve been used this whole time. Was his true goal to mentor you or did he just want your body…to make you his?

Dottore leans in and licks the tears from your cheek as he slips a finger into your wet cunt. A shiver racks your body from both actions, letting out a quiet moan. He begins pumping his finger in and out in a slow, torturous way as he watches your face twist in both pleasure and disgust. His voice is low and sultry as his hot breath tickles your face, “You’ve thought about me doing this to you before, haven’t you? What a sweet little student you are… Here I was trying to be your mentor and you were thinking filthy thoughts about me…” Dottore lets out a devious chuckle when he feels your walls clamp down on his finger.

“For someone who doesn’t want this, you seem to be enjoying yourself so far”, he teases. He adds a second finger and begins to pick up his pace; his thumb rubbing circles on your clit. You try to hold back your moans but fail. It feels too good even though you’re trying so hard to hate it all. Dottore lets go of your throat and graos your chin, tilting your head slightly to the side. He licks a line up your neck then begins nibbling and sucking at your sensitive pulse point. He’s determined to leave his mark on your body to show you that you now belong to him and him alone.

The way his fingers pump in and out of you, his harsh kisses to your neck, and his thumb pressing and circling your clit bring you closer to orgasm, “G-gonna cum”, you mumble out as you moan. Dottore immediately stops what he’s doing, pulling his fingers away from your core and his lips away from your neck. More tears fall as you groan in dissatisfaction of having your orgasm completely ruined. He simply laughs and presses a kiss to your cheek, “Oh I apologize~ Did I ruin your climax?” His voice was dripping with sarcasm. He was immensely satisfied by your reactions and the tears you continue to spill.

Dottore begins unbuttoning his own shirt as he stares down at you, “You cum when I say you can cum. Besides… You’re only allowed to cum on my cock.” His words alone make your eyes roll back and your walls clamp down around nothing. He discards his shirt and tugs his pants down just enough to free his long, girthy cock. He gives it a few pumps as you watch, completely mesmerized yet terrified at the same time. There was no way you could take his cock in your pussy.

Dottore smirks at your expression and leans down, positioning his cock to your entrance, “Don’t worry, my love~ I’ll make it fit.” You try to move away from him, but your handcuffed wrists and your position on the bed make it impossible. He leans forward, rubbing his aching cock against your soaked cunt, letting your arousal coat his length. You let out a small whine when the head of his dick catches against your clit, your hips move upwards on its own accord. Dottore raises an eyebrow under his mask as his lips curve up, “Oh? Looks like someone wants more.” He brings his lips to your ear and whispers, “Beg for it. Tell me you want my cock inside this pretty little pussy of yours.”

You feel your heart flutter, unsure if it’s from fear of what he’s asking you to do or if you truly wanted this. You shake your head slightly which angers him yet again. Dottore grips your jaw tightly, his lips inches from yours, “Say it.” You let out a broken cry and his grip tightens further, “P-please.. Put i-it in…” His demeanor shifts back to satisfaction, “Put what in~?” You let out a shaky breath, “Y-your c-cock.. Put your c-cock in my pussy, p-please.”

He releases your jaw and presses a kiss to your forehead, “There you go. That wasn’t so hard now was it~?” You sniffle and shake your head. Dottore caresses your cheek gently, “This might hurt.” Without another word, he pushes his thick length inside your tight walls. Your cry morphs into a moan when he hits that spongy spot inside you in just the right way. Tears spill down your cheeks yet again, the pain and pleasure of having him inside you was incredibly intense. Seeing your tears only turned him on even more.

Dottore begins thrusting deep and hard with reckless abandon. The way your gummy walls gripped his cock was intoxicating to him. He needed more. You struggle against your restraints, desperate to grab hold of him as he battered your insides. Heavy breaths mix with moans and grunts as you both begin to lose yourselves in this moment. You can’t deny the way his cock made you feel despite wanting to push him away in disgust. You were disgusted by him and even more disgusted by yourself for finding any ounce of pleasure from what was happening to you.

Dottore’s thrust start getting sloppy as he gets closer and closer to orgasm, “Cum with me. Cum on my cock.” His voice comes out ragged and breathy as sweat beads on his forehead. As much as you wish you could stop yourself, you find yourself coming undone all over his cock. Your walls clamp down on his length, milking his own orgasm as he spills his sticky seed in your pussy. Dottore’s cock throbs inside of you as you both ride out the intense orgasm.

“You’re mine now. You’re never going to leave me. I’m going to pump you so full of my cum each day you won’t ever be able to leave”, his dark words haunted you as he pulls his cock out of you and tucks himself back into his pants. He takes a moment to admire just how ruined you look and his lips curve into an uncharacteristically sweet smile, “Beautiful…” he mutters. Dottore gets up from the bed and opens the handcuffs. Your arms fall to your sides and you rub at the chaffed skin of your wrists. Dottore holds his hand out to you, “Come. Let’s clean you up.” You hesitantly take his hand and follow him on shaky legs to the bathroom where he takes his time bathing you and giving you such care it makes you dizzy.

—

Weeks have gone by since the first time he forced himself on you. Not a day went by where he didn’t repeat his actions, making sure to stuff you so full of cum that it leaked from your sore pussy. This day in particular, although your wrists were cuffed yet again, Dottore didn’t cuff you to the bed. After he took care of you, he left you in the room alone. It took you a few minutes to realize that you weren’t attached to the bed. You get up from the bed and quietly make your way to the open bedroom door, peeking your head out to see if you could see or hear him.

You let out a breath and begin making your way down the hall as quietly as you possibly can. You didn’t know what he would do to you if he found you out of your room. Soon your eyes fall to a door further away that seems to have sunlight pouring out from under it. Your eyes well with tears and you no longer care about being stealthy.

Finally you have a chance to break free. The sound of your bare feet slap against the cold floor as you try to run for an exit. Your breathing is heavy, teary eyes full of hope thinking that today is the day you can finally escape him. Right before you can reach the exit, a large hand grips your arm tightly, causing you to stumble and fall to your hands and knees. You’re flipped over onto your back with him looming over you with a smirk on his face, “Going somewhere, my love?”

꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷꒦꒷꒷꒦꒦꒷꒦꒷꒷꒷

a/n: honestly if you read this all the way through, i am sending a billion kisses to you through my phone. no i will not pay for your therapy, sorry

[pvrkacciosan]

These Hugs of Yours

A/n: this is the third F1 Post, after a received over 500+ notifications in under 24h after posting my initial first two F1 posts, I'm not used to this attention, but I am so appreciative of it, so thank you to all you lovely human beans who have been leaving notes and re-blogging.

Synopsis: Reader has endo, and its that time of the month, to make matters worse, you must educate your boyfriends on how to help

Pairing: Pierre Gasly X Fem!Reader

Warnings: Details of pain, mention of severe period symptoms, Vomiting, slightly clueless Pierre, Endometriosis , Swearing, french terms of endearment (google sourced)

Word count: 1.3K

There was nothing else but the overpowering pain that shot through you,

Everywhere, it was everything you could feel, stemming from the source; Your uterus. Which seemed insistent and rather quite content on ending you both.

The cramps were pulsating and had you curled into a ball on the top of your bed, with the lights switched off to try and salvage yourself as the headache split through you.

The painkillers you took about half an hour ago had little effect, as they usually did. As useful as a chocolate fucking fire guard.

You could faintly hear the noise of keys outside your apartment door, and the shuffle of shoes being toed off at the entrance way.

"ma chère"

You couldn't bring yourself to utter a response, instead rolling slightly, you stuff your face further into the comfort of the plush pillow, muffling out your whole expression.

You could hear Pierre as he moved about no doubt, trying to seek you out in your usual spots, you had only been with him for a few months, but ever time you were visited by you period, he had been away from home. Leaving you to deal with the devil herself.

As the haze of your pain cleared for a second, you could just make out the noise of his footsteps getting closer, the door swung.

"ma chère?" Pierre asked, concern lacing the term of endearment he insisted on calling you.

The lights were flicked on, and even Pierre couldn't miss the distinct whimper of pain that mewled from you, the sound muffled into the surface of the pillow.

"Y/n" his tone was more serious, he padded towards your side of the bed, kneeling onto the mattress so he hovered above you.

You lay slightly angled away, Breathing labour to try and ease through the pain as it began to wreak havoc through your body once more, the stabbing running up your spine now,

Pierre gently reached over to brush the hair away so he could see your face,

"Baby, whats wrong?" he switched to English, doubting you would comprehend French when in this much pain, the grimace on your face made the Frenchman panic slightly yet he didn't move, only brushing the side of your face, tracing a thumb down your cheek bone.

As the pain traveled- a current of chaos, the pulse of pain in your back always made you nauseous and when you felt the burning at the back of your throat you sprung up, Pierre light quick reaction time allowing him to manoeuvrer out your way as you shot off the bed and towards the bathroom joined to your room.

Throwing yourself onto the tiled floor, you felt the jolt of pain shoot up your knees as they collided harshly with the floor, you stuck your head in the toilet bowl as the contents of your stomach came up.

Over the noise of your own retching you could hear your boyfriend's panicked voice as he rambled small amount of french mutterings under his breath as he moved to you.

Finally aware of his approach you tried to kick out at the door to shut it on him,

"No, Y/n," he stopped the door and moved to be beside you on the floor,

Pierre began to rub soothing circles onto the middle of your back, the repetitive motion gave you something to focus on,

"I don't want you to see me like this" heat bloomed in your cheeks,

Pierre shifted so he sat with you body between his legs, having him close eased your nerves slightly,

"I'm not going anywhere"

but the pain waved back again, you had a second to cry slightly before you were throwing up once more, his hand never once leaving the spot at your back,

Once you finally finished, stopping your hand from shaking when you placed them against his thighs, which hugged you closer.

Pierre gently pulled you back until you where pressed to his chest, the pain had exhausted the energy in you, so when your own head fell back to rest on his shoulder you let a sigh escape your lips,

"chère?"

Shaking your head, "It isn't usually this bad"

Pierre shifted at the slight detected of the quiver in your voice, sounding a second from breaking, when you tilted you head to peer at him from the corner of your eyes you found him in thought as he watched you,

"Its my period, Pierre"

His puzzlement dissipated and he rocked you both slightly, waiting on the floor with you still hugged to his chest.

There was silence until he finally whispered,

"What... what am I supposed to do?"

Sitting up away from him, you turned to meet his gaze, you faintly caught the movement of his hand as it drifted towards you stomach, Placing it there, the warmth of his hand under your shirt, well his shirt, was like bliss, he began to gently message the skin over your womb,

"You don't have to do anything, Pierre"

He shot you an offended expression,

"Its my job to take care of you, so what can I do?"

You had to squeeze your eyes shut, as another wave of pain began to rise slowly inside you,

"I could get you pregnant." Your eyes snapped open at his suggestion, his statement was so forward that you ignored your pain altogether for a moment.

"That way you might get nine months of relief" his reasoning made you giggle, this god send of a man, who had completely flipped your life upside down, who you one day say yourself potentially starting a family with, had suggested pregnancy as a way to avoid your period. As though it hadn't its own flurry of symptoms and pains, though you suspected he wasn't the first man on earth to make the suggestion, or the last.

"I think some of your hugs might suffice for now"

Pierre nodded, his cheeks a deep red.

"I'll emm.. I'll let you clean up, " he pushed up from the floor, "Are you okay to stand?"

Gratefully taking the hand he extended to you, you rose up off the floor trying to hide the wince when the pain bolted from you once more, easing your weight onto the side of the sink, you nodded for him to leave, he shuffled out leaving you.

Brushing your teeth and rinsing out your mouth and splashing your face quickly, you made way back into your room,

You could hear Pierre on the phone to someone in the hall, following the sound of his voice, the living area of your apartment was open and warm, the light glow of a candle lighting up the corner from where Pierre had lite it.

Seeing you wander in, he ended the call,

"Who was that?"

"Just work, they wanted me to come in an look over data"

Stopping dead in your tracks, you shot a deadpanned expression at him, "Pierre.."

"No, I have far more important things right here" he extended both arms, gesturing you towards him. Normally you would have protested but as the pain began to swell once more, you made for the couch,

His whole body had engulfed yours, just as you liked, his chin nuzzled against the crown of your head. Everything about this felt right, despite the pain; you could feel the exhaustion taking over, eyelids growing heaving.

"You never said no" Pierre mumbled into your hair, where he left a round of soft kisses, moving to press his lips to your temple, they were warm and gave you something to focus on besides the pain.

"Hmm?"

"About a baby."

"Make me a Gasly first, then we can have that discussion."

There had been a time in your life, where you would never dream of marrying a man had had only been in your life for a few months, but Pierre seemed to make the exception.

Your Boyfriends only answer was to tug you closer into him, and kiss your temple, settling to simple enjoy the feel of your body pressed to his.

He fully intended to take you up on that one day.

[deliciousangelfestival]

Nothing Has Changed - 13

Summary: Returning home for peace, you're faced with your tormentor, Bucky Barnes, who is now involved in your family's business.

Character: Bucky Barnes

Warning: Angst, Tragedy.

Author Note: So... I wrote the story outline until the ending. I didn't expect the story to turn dark. Prepare yourself.

Nothing Has Changed - Series Masterlist

Main Masterlist || support: Ko-fi

Thank you to anyone who gave a like, reblog, and left a comment. It motivated me to write more. 💖💖💖

“I had a miserable life when I lived here,” you said, your voice trembling with old resentment.

Bucky’s eyes softened as he listened. He took a step closer, his shoulders slumping. “You’re hurting. I get it.”

He touched his chest, his fingers pressing against the fabric as if trying to reach his heart. “But… it’s not only you.” His voice broke slightly, and he looked down, struggling to maintain composure. “Me too.”

He ran a hand through his hair, his movements agitated. “That’s why I’m doing this,” he continued, his voice low and earnest. “I’m trying to fix all the pain we both caused.” He looked into your eyes, his expression pleading. “I need to make things right.”

You watched him, torn between your anger and the vulnerability he displayed. His words hung heavy in the air, and for a moment, both of you stood silently, understanding shared suffering.

Flashback Start

Growing up, Bucky never felt the warmth of a real family. His father, Alex, was distant, never saying a word to him, never laughing, never making silly jokes, or even getting angry. It was as if Bucky didn’t even exist in his father’s eyes.

Lydia was always the one to initiate conversations at home, but Alex only responded with monosyllables: ‘Yes,’ ‘No,’ and ‘Just go by yourself.’ He rarely stayed home, often spending his nights at the construction office.

The only time Alex seemed to notice Bucky was when he got hurt. Bucky vividly remembered the first time he felt his father’s care was when he fell from the playground. That moment stood out, making Bucky believe that, perhaps, his father still cared for him. But Lydia noticed it too.

From then on, Lydia started orchestrating accidents to make Bucky get hurt just to garner Alex's attention, trying to fabricate a close-knit family facade. For a while, Bucky didn’t find it strange because he finally received attention from both his parents. Then one day, he fell down the stairs, even though he was sure he had been careful.

While he was resting, Bucky overheard a heated argument between his parents. Alex’s voice echoed through the house, filled with anger and frustration. “You’re an insane woman, hurting your own kid?” he yelled.

Bucky’s nanny had witnessed the incident. She saw Lydia push Bucky down the stairs, and the look on Lydia’s face had been terrifying, like a devil’s. When Alex came home, the nanny told him everything. The truth about Lydia’s actions deepened Alex’s hatred towards his estranged wife.

When Bucky got sick, his father never visited him. Weak and confused, Bucky asked Lydia, “Mom, why doesn’t my father like me?”

Lydia hugged him tightly. “Sweetie, your father loves us, but he’s like this because of that woman.”

“That woman?” Bucky asked, not understanding what his mother meant.

He started to learn the truth when he overheard his father one day. “Why is she suddenly sick? Send her to the city,” Alex said, his voice stressed and weary. He threw himself into a chair, mentioning another woman’s name—someone who wasn’t Lydia.

Bucky didn’t fully grasp the situation, but he noticed his father coming home even later than before. One day, he heard his father scream when that woman died. Alex drowned his sorrows in alcohol, becoming a shadow of himself.

Young Bucky, filled with confusion and pain, found it easy to blame someone else for his father’s misery. His resentment grew until one day, tragedy struck again. Alex died in a car accident.

At the funeral, guests offered their condolences to Lydia, but no one paid much attention to Bucky. Even if they did, he didn’t understand the meaning of death. So, he waited outside and saw a thin, ghostly man from a Christmas movie—it was Tom. With him was a little girl peeking from a window near the funeral home.

Lydia suddenly appeared beside Bucky. “You see that man and the girl?”

Bucky nodded.

“That’s the husband and daughter of the woman who made your father hate us,” Lydia said, her voice dripping with bitterness.

Bucky clenched his fists, his young heart filling with hatred. From that day, he despised you. He noticed you weren’t close with Tom but didn’t seek his attention like Bucky did with Alex.

Bucky started bullying you, finding a twisted sense of superiority. His friends joined in, making it worse. For a kid, it felt powerful to look down on someone.

When you left with Ransom, Bucky felt an unexpected emptiness. He thought you would realize Ransom was a jerk and come back, but you didn’t. He began to wonder why he missed you.

Was it because he lost his scapegoat, or was it guilt? The guilt of making you leave town gnawed at him.

One day, he learned that Lydia had lied. All her stories were lies. Your mother had never done anything to Alex. It was just that his father still loved her. The weight of guilt and the sins he committed against you ate him alive. He couldn’t sleep or eat and eventually sought therapy.

Bucky’s voice trembled with a mix of anger and hurt as he confronted his mother. “Why did you do that? Why did you lie about everything?”

Lydia’s face twisted with a blend of defiance and bitterness. “Because I’m the victim in this loveless marriage. You have no right to be mad at me.”

Bucky’s frustration erupted. “I’m allowed to be angry! You made me believe your lies, and because of that, I made someone’s life miserable.”

Lydia’s slap was sudden and sharp, stinging Bucky’s cheek. He recoiled, his face burning with pain both physical and emotional. His eyes widened in shock, his expression a mix of disbelief and deep hurt.

“I gave everything to your father!” Lydia’s voice was a mix of anger and desperation. “My family business, my money. But that man only had eyes and a heart for that woman. To him, I was less than a bug.”

Bucky’s fists clenched at his sides, his shoulders shaking with the effort to control his rage. “So you still don’t feel guilty for lying to me?”

Lydia’s eyes were wild, her face streaked with tears. “Why? Why should I feel guilty?” she screamed, her voice cracking under the weight of her own grief. “I sacrificed everything for that ungrateful man!”

“Because I’m your son!” Bucky shouted back, his voice breaking. “You gave birth to me! You should feel ashamed for using me as a pawn in your twisted games.”

Lydia’s face contorted with a mix of pain and anger. She grabbed at her own hair, her body trembling as she cried. “Are you ashamed to have me as your mother? You have everything—status, money! That’s why you were the popular kid at school. Everyone envied you!”

Bucky’s eyes flashed with a mix of fury and sadness. “You think that’s a justification? You think all your lies and manipulations are okay because I had status and money? You don’t understand the damage you’ve caused!”

Lydia’s sobs grew louder, her body slumped as if the weight of her own actions was finally crashing down on her. She looked at Bucky with a broken expression, her tears mingling with the anger still in her eyes.

Bucky turned away, his own tears threatening to spill. The air between them was thick with unresolved pain and regret. He felt the crushing weight of their fractured relationship, knowing that no amount of words could undo the damage that had been done.

He had made your life hell for something you didn’t do. The realization tormented him.

After graduating and returning to town, Bucky decided to make a difference. The first thing he wanted to do was apologize to you. But when he visited Tom, you never came home. He saw how Tom lived and the state of the funeral home and decided to help. He also planned to build a new hospital in town because the lack of medical facilities had contributed to your mother’s misdiagnosis.

Then, out of nowhere, you came back.

Flashback End

“High price to pay for what you did,” you said, your voice cold and steady.

Bucky’s eyes widened slightly, pain flickering across his face. “I know. I deserve every bit of it.”

You paused, taking a deep breath. “But one thing I appreciate is that you realize your own fault.” Your tone softened slightly, but your eyes remained guarded.

Bucky’s face brightened at your words, hope lighting up his expression. “Well… I even sent my mom to the police for you,” he said, a touch of pride in his voice.

You nodded slowly. “That’s the most extreme act to prove yourself.”

Just then, Tom appeared at the doorway. His eyes flickered with concern as he took in Bucky’s disheveled appearance. “Bucky? I heard about Lydia. Is it true?”

Bucky nodded, his shoulders slumping slightly. “Yeah, it’s true. She’s in police custody now."

Tom sighed deeply, glancing between you and Bucky. “Why don’t you come inside, Bucky? Let’s talk about this. There’s a lot we need to discuss.”

Bucky looked at you, silently seeking your approval. You gave a small nod, and he followed Tom into the house.

🛒🛒🛒🛒

The next day, you went to the grocery store to buy some essentials. As you were browsing the aisles, you spotted Steve looking at a shelf of canned goods.

“Hey, Steve,” you greeted, your voice casual.

He turned, a smile spreading across his face. “Hey! I’m going to the city next week to meet the gallery owner.”

“That’s great,” you replied, genuinely happy for him.

Steve’s smile widened. “I won’t forget your help.”

You shrugged your shoulders, a hint of a smile on your lips. “I still don’t care.”

Steve chuckled, noticing the smile. He nudged your shoulder playfully. “Sure you don’t.”

“Hey guys. Fancy meeting you here.”

Both of you turned around to see Bucky approaching, his expression a mix of surprise and hesitation.

“Oh, hi,” Steve greeted him, his tone polite but lacking warmth. The air between them was thick with an unspoken tension, the remnants of a once-close friendship now strained.

Bucky’s eyes darted between the two of you. “What are you guys up to?”

Steve cleared his throat. “I was just thanking her. Because of her, I got an offer to work in an art gallery.”

Bucky’s face fell slightly. “You’re gonna leave?” His voice grew quiet. “Wow. Congrats, buddy.”

The awkwardness between them was palpable. You could feel the tension building, and it was too much to bear. You decided to continue shopping, hoping to escape the uncomfortable atmosphere. “I’m going to keep shopping. See you around, Steve.”

Steve nodded, a small, grateful smile on his face.

Bucky saw this as his cue. “Let me help you. Besides, I’m going to help Tom later.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t object. “Fine.” Turning to Steve, you said, “See you.”

Steve nodded again, giving you a supportive smile.

Bucky quickly followed you, calling over his shoulder, “Let’s meet up later, buddy.” He didn’t wait for Steve’s answer, his focus solely on catching up with you.

Steve watched the two of you walk away, a somber expression on his face. “It’s better if we don’t,” he murmured to himself, the weight of past conflicts evident in his tone.

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Author Note: Hey friends,

If you've been enjoying the content, I've set up a Ko-fi account.

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[ilikecrowns]

Closet

Alessia Russo x f!reader

Reader has liked alessia for as long as she can remember, alas it has always been unrequited, as alessia appears to be straight. That is until one day the news spreads something that she wasn’t ready for.

based on this request here

1k words (sorry it’s so short, i might make a part two)

warnings- none yet again! (i’m good at this)

　　　　　　　･:*+.\(( °ω° ))/.:+

Watching Alessia in training everyday with the most adorable smile that's somehow always present on her face, completely and utterly destroyed me. There wasn't a hand I wanted more to hold, or hair I wanted more to softly stoke whilst laying besides her. Eventually, I decided it was best to get over her.

After all, she was straight, and would never ever want to be with me.

A sharp knocking on the door broke me from my pitiful state as I sat alone on my sofa, long past midnight, caressing a bowl of cookie dough ice cream. The only person I'd ever expect to turn up at my front door was the postman, and even then I probably see him far too often (my online shopping addiction is a matter to discuss on another occasion).

After shooting up from the sofa and practically spilling the whole semi-melted bowl of creamy heaven, I found myself standing at the door. Times like these make me realise a peephole is definitely worth it.

With no other way of knowing who on earth was banging on my front door at the devil's hour, the only thing for it was to open it up.

And there, looking in all her beautiful blonde glory was the one woman I swore to forget.

Alessia damn Russo.

"Hey...." she sheepishly smiled, clutching her arms in a feeble manner.

"Alessia," I stood there shocked, like a prey about to get pounced on. However, this predator was the most stunning, kind and adorable animal you'd ever see.

"I'm... i'm so sorry. I really hope i'm not interrupting you. It's just... I just," she started hyperventilating at this point, tears spilling down her cheeks faster than my hands could catch them.

"Less, it's okay, calm down, what's going on?"

"Someone... someone found me... found me kissing someone at a bar and and and-"

I raised my eyebrows, wondering where on earth this was going. I couldn't hide the sharp pain to my heart I felt as the words 'kissing someone at the bar' gave me, but right then I needed to be there for my friend.

"-and they took a pic and it's everywhere on the internet and now everyone knows, y/n/n, they all know!!"

I just looked at her completely bewildered.

"Everyone knows what, Less?" I never knew kissing someone at a club was the biggest deal in the world, but I guess some crazy fans certainly would find it to be the next focal point of their lives.

"Just... just look." she sobbed again, holding her phone out so I could see the picture she had up on it.

It was Alessia kissing a woman.

Rather awkwardly, I must admit. It looked like the poor thing didn't know her lips were attached to her face and that hands were absolutely not ever allowed anywhere near the person she was practically eating alive.

I raised my eyebrows, not sure whether to laugh at the hilarity of the awful kiss, or stay composed and empathetic for my 'former' crush.

"Honey...." I start, putting a hand onto Alessia's shoulder and offering her a warm smile, "Everything is going to be okay. Have you actually LOOKED at what people have said? You chose the right career to be gay in by the way, good job."

She gasped as soon as the word 'gay' left my mouth.

"Gay? I-i'm not..." she stopped, trying to find the best words as to not offend me, "I really really really just don't want everyone to know."

"What's the main reason behind that, Less?" I grabbed some tissues and dabbed at the tear stains around her eyes, followed by guiding her to my sofa.

"Because!" she exclaimed, getting up almost immediately after sitting down in an angry flourish.

I was almost astonished at the fact I'd completely glossed over the fact Alessia had kissed. a. girl.

"Lessi? if you wanted practice, you could have just asked me, by the way. That kiss looked painful..." I tried to make light of the situation, however soon after her meltdown it may have been.

She stopped her pacing, and turned to look at me.

A sharp blush instantly rose to her cheeks, followed straight after by a curious glint in her eye.

"You... you would do that for me?"

"I-"

"OH MY GOD Y/N I LOVE YOU!" her crying completely ceased, and she grabbed my face into her hands, planting a deep passionate kiss on my cheek.

All I could do was sigh to myself. If only she knew what she was doing to me.

The talented striker then gulped an entire glass of water in less than 10 seconds- which to me was hella impressive- and hastily applied about five layers of lipgloss to her lips.

"Alessia... I don't think this is a very good-" she shut me up with a messy, rushed and extremely, well, awful, kiss.

My eyes shot wide open, not in a million years had I expected my crush to kiss me and for me to feel extremely uncomfortable.

"God, Alessia, please tell me you didn't drink the entire bar," I face palmed, now finally realising how unbelievably drunk she must be to even consider doing something this bold.

"No no I just had a few, now sit still i'm not done!" She shut me up yet again with another bruising kiss, this time she tried sliding her tongue into my mouth which I absolutely was not having when she was so out of it. Plus, I was pretty afraid she'd eat me alive.

I gently pushed her off me, raising my hand to wave it in front of her still closed eyes and puckered lips face.

"Right, it's bed time! We will talk more about whatever the hell just happened in the morning, but for now, you need to rest. And for the love of god never get drunk again."

I wasn't sure how much I meant that last sentence, because no matter how painful that kiss was, I still got to experience what I’d dreamt of for years.

[hiskillingjar]

'You're his pet now.'

Relationship: Ren Hana/Reader, Fox/Reader Rating: Explicit Contains: Gender-Neutral Pronouns, Injury Recovery, Power Imbalance, Coercion Length: Multi-chaptered, 2600+ words

Summary: After surviving hell, how do you navigate your relationship with the Devil?

AO3 Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/48528574

“Ngh…ah.”

You were supposed to be dead. That much you knew.

The second you woke up, the only thing that you could initially register was just how much your body hurt. It felt like you had been hit by a truck or trampled by a crowd or a pack of animals.

The next thing you registered, when you lurched forward and let out a long, pained groan, almost doubling up on yourself as your bandaged abdomen started to ache and twist, was that you were leaning up on a bed.

You weren’t on a thin mattress on the ground, nor were you in your cell or the dreaded 'filming room’. 

You were on a normal bed, in a normal room.

Well, maybe not normal. 

It looked a little like a hospital room, albeit a fancy one, when you blinked your heavy eye(s), peering around. A private suite with beige walls and tasteful decorations adorning them, pine furniture, a bedside table for get-well-soon cards and flowers. Your sheets were white and crisp and clean, and when you moved your arm, you could see a needle was pressed and taped inside, providing you with a drip feed. You could also feel a tube in your nose when you reached up to touch your face.

When you moved your other arm, though, you found it bound down to the side of the hospital bed. But the bindings were loose and made of expensive leather and fur that felt soft and soothing against your skin that had been rubbed raw by chains and metal. 

Emphasising that they were there to restrain you, but not to hurt you.

When you gave the cuffs another tug, a thick chain rattled against the metal and an intense pain shot across your left shoulder, making you take in a reflexive hiss and squeeze your eye(s) shut. 

The marred socket was still irritating and itchy, despite how well (you guessed) it was healing from the thick wadding that now covered it, covering half your face.

“You’re awake.”

You flinched at the sudden and familiar sound of...Fox, sitting on the other side of the room next to the closest window. He balanced an espresso cup on his knee and his legs crossed tight, sparing barely a glance at you as he looked out at the view outside. 

It was nighttime. How long has he been waiting for you to wake up?

"Hope you've been enjoying your little nap." He continued, his tone dry but lighthearted like he was talking to a neighbour or a colleague, as he took a quick sip from his cup, keeping his eyes on the night skyline outside. A city. "I can see the nurses have taken good care of you."

"Fox?" You mumbled warily as you sat up a little more on your best, pressing your free hand to your abdomen, trying to soothe the pain as the cuffs were pulled taught and tight against your other wrist. "Where...where am I?"

"Now that's a good question," He said with a thoughtful hum, finally looking over at you with more interest, one of his thick brows raising and wrinkling his forehead in a subtle way (a handsome way). 

He looked good, all things considered. He looked normal. 

He was dressed nicely, in a high-neck sweater and a well-pressed grey suit, his hair combed back and his ears standing high to attention. He looked like a man who had just walked straight out of a business meeting, handsome, in control, and a little intimidating to those that opposed him. 

You had to wonder how many other businessmen made their livings in snuff porn, though. 

Probably a few.

"How about you tell me how much you remember?" He then asked around the rim of the espresso cup as he took another sip, his tail swishing to and fro behind him.

Your brow furrowed pensively as you tried to remember...well, anything. 

You remembered the auction, the haze of colours, the bickering voices debating your worth, the burning stamp of red and blue (the occasional flicker of green) inside your lids. You remembered the announcer, his cheerful voice, and you remembered begging him to take you instead, to spare you from whatever these...people had planned for you. 

You remembered the cameras and the screens, the haze of white imprinted that had still soaked into your vision. You remembered the heckling from an unseen audience that cheered and begged for your blood, your suffering. 

You remembered the twisting ache of chains and bondage. You remembered your eye (or lack thereof), you remembered the demeaning costumes, you remembered the pain. You remembered the cell you were kept in and you remembered being so drugged up on painkillers most of the time, you could barely remember your name.

But you didn't remember why your abdomen was throbbing with agony or why every inch of your body was aching, and you didn't remember how you got here, or why you were still even alive.

Fox looked at your face, a light smile growing across his own (dimpling his deep smile lines and the markings on his cheeks) at the sight of your confusion and uncertainty.

"Do you remember anything?" He asked with a light chuckle after a few long moments, his ears flattening just a little on top of his head as he tilted his head. "Or is it all a blur?" He tutted softly with a shake of his head as his ears pointed again. “Poor dear. What’s gotten you so… lost?” 

His voice turned a touch condescending and mocking as he spoke those last few words, a subtle tone of amusement and pleasure behind them which made your aching stomach twist.

"Why am I still alive?" You said softly as you leaned up more, sitting up against the recline of the bed. "Why are we in a normal hospital? Why am I not in my cell?"

He was quiet for a moment, taking another drink from his cup, savouring the taste with an indulgent roll of his shoulders as he ran his tongue over his fangs in a slow and considered way. He then lowered the cup back down to his knee, with a light clatter of porcelain. 

"You really don't remember, hm?" He said dryly, glancing at you from the corner of his eye, his gaze golden and glittering with cruel amusement . You shook your head. "Well, what do you remember last? The auction, perhaps?"

"Uh…yeah, yeah, I remember that just fine." You said, a frown tightening the lines of your face (you wouldn't be surprised if you had more, you felt like you had aged decades). "I remember asking...begging, really, for you to take me instead of selling me to the others." You grimaced as you felt a sudden flare of pain in your shoulder, reaching up to idly knead at it and finding a thick swath of bandages stuck to your skin which spanned across your shoulder and down your bank. "It was...kind of a dumb choice, in hindsight."

"Well, that's one way of describing it." He continued, breathing out a short (practised) chuckle through his nose as a sharp smirk spread across his features, his fangs hooking over his lips the more he spoke. "But, and maybe I’m biased…I'd say it was probably the right choice." He then said, standing to his feet and pacing to the side of your bed, one hand in his pocket, his clawed thumb hooked around the fabric. "Wouldn't you agree?"

You weren’t too sure if you should agree or not, but he’d gotten you to a hospital and made sure you weren’t dead. What was the point in getting on his nerves now?

"I guess," You said with a shrug (despite your throbbing shoulder), letting your unrestrained arm drop back down to your side. The needle was starting to throb too, like you needed any more pain. "I'm alive, that's true...though I still don't really know why." You leaned back further against the hospital bed (the best you could), letting your head loll back on the cushions and considering him as he stepped closer. "You were going to kill me. I was sure of it."

"And yet, here you are!" He stood at the side of your bed, a wide and playful grin on my face as he set his coffee cup on the bedside table. “You’re alive, you’re healing, you're even relatively healthy, if your nurses are to be trusted. How lucky are you!”

Well, he was certainly right about that. Regardless of how much pain you were in, regardless of how much your body was throbbing and struggling just to keep you upright, you were healing. 

He was making sure you were healing. 

You swallowed hard, wondering why he was so determined for you to heal.

"I'm not going to.” He then said with a considered sigh. “Kill you, that is." You could see a little twinkle of mirth in his golden eyes as his head tilted again, his tail swishing behind him as he looked down on you. "What do you think that means, then? What does that mean to you?" He then asked, his voice playful and almost teasing, like he was telling you a good joke.

"I don't really know," You said, giving your cuff a little tug as you looked up at him with your good eye. “I…really don’t.”

"Well, since you’re so lost,” He grinned, his smile sharp and threatening (though you’re not sure he intended it that way). “Let me enlighten you." He perched himself on the side of your bed, resting a hand on your knee (underneath your blankets), the wide grin not leaving his face as he looked at you intently, his eyes bright and hungry . "It means… I like you too much to kill you. " 

You took in a sharp gasp, your eye(s) widening in shock once he assured you of the thing you were so scared of, so unsure of, (so secretly wanting of).

"Is that a good enough reason for you?" He then said softly. 

You could feel his warm breath across the side of your neck as he leaned a little closer to you, looking at you intently, his voice dripping, oozing with playful teasing. The touch on your knee tightened just a little.

"You...you like me?" You murmured quietly, so quiet that you were sure that only the two of you could hear it.

"Oh, darling ," He crooned softly as his grin eased just a touch into a smirk, his other hand reaching up to your chin to gently direct your gaze to his own, his eyes softening with fondness and...indisputable lust. "I adore you."

You swallowed a little tightly as he got closer to you, so close you could see the dimples of his smile lines, the creases around and under his eyes, and the freckles that dotted his cheeks.

You weren’t especially surprised by his admission. 

It did make sense, in hindsight, in some twisted kind of way. 

He had been quite sweet to you during the streams despite everything, taking the time to praise you when you behaved, to tend to your wounds, to assure you of his intentions and to make sure you were okay after all was said and done.

Maybe he did like you.

That didn't stop you from feeling nervous, though.

"And more than that..." He continued, his tail swaying just a little more (maybe it was even wagging…did foxes wag their tails?) “I want to keep playing with you , I want to make you beg for more, I want to own you." He leaned in a little bit closer, whispering in your ear softly, your faces inches apart as his soft, unruly hairs wisped against your cheek "I want to make you mine...and I always get what I want."

You were sure of that.

There were a few moments of heavy quiet, his breathing slow as he pulled away from you just a touch, enough that you could see his face, the soft flush to his cheeks, the mischievous, almost boy-ish twinkle in his eyes.

"So, what would your response be to that, then?" He whispered softly, his breath warm against your neck. "Do you want to be mine?"

"I mean…do I have much of a choice?" You asked quietly, though the warmth of his voice against your skin was…kind of nice and enough to make you shiver with a subdued rendition of pleasure.

"Not really, no," He said with a chuckle and a shake of his head, his expression fond and patient, almost like he had expected you to ask a question like that. "Either you become mine, or..." 

Or.

You swallowed again. 

He took another quiet moment to consider your expression, your stiff posture, the nervousness in your eyes, as if he was waiting for an answer, before he let out another little chuckle, shrugging his shoulders as he let go of your chin and gave you two light taps on the cheek.

You flinched, your face absolutely burning at the condescending little gesture. “Think about it!” He said easily, casually, like he was negotiating a business deal and not coercing you into a never-ending dynamic of ownership and servitude. He smiled and stood to his feet, letting go of your knee and giving his blazer a little tug to fix it into place. “You have plenty of time to, after all. And who knows?” He held his arms out in a wide gesture of casual friendliness. “You might come to like the idea!”

You didn’t say anything. Your cheeks were still blazing from the light taps.

“Well, get some rest, sweetie,” He then said, letting his arms drop to his sides with a quirked grin, showing you his fangs (again, you weren't sure if the threatening gesture was entirely on purpose). “I want you strong and healthy, after all! I’ll see you later.”

“Wait!” You said quickly, sitting forward and forcing the cuff on your wrist to pull tightly, almost digging into your skin as your arm was jerked back painfully. “Y-You’re going to leave me here? All on my own?”

“Mmhmm,” He nodded, putting his hands in his pockets and raising his brows at the quickness of your question, as if he was surprised that this was what you were concerned about. “There’s work to be done, after all. But I’ll visit you again soon, and your nurses will take great care of you.”

You sat back against the bed with a soft sound of defeat, looking down at your lap.

“Right, okay…” You murmured, fiddling with your fingers (the best you could with the cuff so tight). “...How soon?”

You flinched again when Fox let out a string of barking laughs, real and loud and authentic , his shoulders shaking with amusement and his tail wagging as he did his best to cover his amusement with his hands.

“Oh! Oh my, oh darling,” He said through his giggles, leaning towards you again, his hands on the bed and his smiling face near yours. “That is absolutely precious, it really is! You’re so needy already,” He grinned then and pressed his nose into your hair, like a quick affectionate nuzzle. It’s almost a kiss and it almost makes your heart race. “And oh-so-sweet. We’re going to have such a good time together, I can already tell.” 

You didn’t say anything, but your flushing face said more than enough for him.

“Rest up. And try not to miss me too much, okay?~ ❤”

[cambion-companion]

Cat and Mouse

"See, I was dead when I woke up this morning. And I'll be dead before the day is done." -Seven Devils, Florence and the Machine

Raphael x reader (gn)

Cause how could I not write something to go with this gifset?

Your blood had run hot as you’d shared passion in a devil’s den. Simmering beneath your flushed skin as your fingers traced his fiery veins.

Your blood now pumped cold, dread and fear following wherever you ran, leading him right to your every hiding place.

Your blood would run red upon the ground if he caught you.  The betrayal rotting bitter upon his tongue. Turning hope to an acrid ash that he would choke you with.

You heard your name again, spoken with the force of expelling a deadly toxin, behind you. Again, you thought to the events taken place not hours ago.

Raphael on his knees before you, defeated. The bodies of his devilkin scattered and strewn like so many crumpled and brittle leaves.  His eyes barely able to open, he made to plea for his life, no more honeyed words to try and sway you.

Your sword raised high, paused. You looked down upon the devil who had committed no trespass against you.  It was your fault, this aching sundering. Your careless blundering.

“Shit.”  You said, lowering your weapon.  You knew time was short.  Raphael would lash out, sensing weakness like a shark smells blood clouding the water.

Your companions were already jumping desperately through the portal, you saw Astarion calling for you, unable to hear beyond the steady thrumming in your ears. Your world tilted as you staggered sideways, fighting to remain conscious long enough to retrieve the health poultice from your pack.

“I won’t allow him to have you.”  You wondered if he heard you, his bright eyes met yours and you knew he understood.

You threw the poultice at him, turned and staggered for the sparking doorway back to your dimension.

Your name, snarled from within the dark ruins brought you back to the present. To the situation you’d custom made for yourself. Raphael had caught your scent, try and you might to avoid the inevitable fate.

He was powerful once more, perhaps more so than last you’d seen him. You turned, unable to run further, your feet useless as blocks of ice supporting your weight. Your fingers numb upon the cold stone column you leaned against.

A plume of orange fire lit the very back of the old temple, the bright light momentarily blinding your wide eyes. You heard heavy footsteps approaching, unhurried, purposeful and intent on your destruction.

Leathery wings stretched wide, lit scarlet by the inferno. The glimmer of eyes slowly gave way to the familiar angles and ridges of a hellish face and curving horns.

Something metallic glinted in the flickering light, sat in regal splendor upon Raphael’s head.

“No.”  You whispered in horror.  You’d given it to Gale.

“Out of touch with reality, as ever.”  Raphael’s large hand took a fistful of your hair and pulled, yanking a cry of pain from your throat. “I gave you every opportunity and you squandered it all like a petulant child.”

Your breath was ragged, the freezing air scraping through your lungs like daggers. The crown of Karsus mirrored the natural curve of Raphael’s horns, like it was tailor made just for him.

“Gale…”

“Is in pieces spread from here to Cormyr by now.”  With an insulting ease, Raphael tossed you by the hair to the ground.  

The air left your lungs and you gasped in vain to regain breath, struggling like a fish out of water, trying to drag yourself away from his approach.  

Raphael rolled his shoulders, the bonfire far behind continuing to blaze at his command. He circled slowly, waiting for you to regain your feet, like a cat playing with an injured and frantic mouse.

“I spared you.” You hissed in pain, clutching your side as you struggled back up.

“You doomed yourself.”  Raphael answered, the edge of his voice seeming to take physical form to cut your very soul.

His arm moved and something small clinked upon the ground, rolling to rest against your foot. You looked down, your lips twisting into a grimace as you recognized the health potion.  

“How generous.”

“With you, my dear, I am lenient as ever.”  Raphael waited for you to restore yourself, his wings folding slightly, but his posture remaining tense and ready. “Now we will finish what you started.”

[nomoreusername]

Only Human

Pairing:Minho x gender neutral reader

Summary:When a storm brings back bad memories, you hold Minho until he falls asleep.

I don't exactly know when it hit him. Maybe a little after he was struck by lightning. Maybe when WCKD first tazed him. Maybe during one of the several times they did he was there.

At the end of the day, it doesn't actually matter. The result is the same.

He has an intense fear of storms. One that he'll deny in front of everyone. One that'll try and laugh off. One that he swear he doesn't have because being struck by electricity 'didn't effect him that much'.

It did though. It absolutely did.

I was worried the entire day. With the clouds getting heavier and the sky getting darker, the weather wasn't looking too good. It was windier than we were used to and seemed like there was a cold front. All signs that his worst fear was coming soon.

Minho sometimes likes to sleep in his own cot, just by mine. He likes being independent, and cuddling all the time wasn't his thing. He'll stay up late and talk, sometimes reaching over to hold my hand, but that was it for the nights he was there.

I asked if he was sure he wanted to sleep alone tonight. It was about to rain pretty bad, and I'd be more than willing to hold him. He rejected the idea though, and I didn't want to push it. I just let myself drift off while praying he would actually be okay.

It must have only been a few hours until I woke up to thunder booming, lightning flashing, and heavy rain pounding on the ground. That was definitely not a fun thing to disturb my dreams. Life was so peaceful, and in just a few seconds it was completely ruined.

I sighed as I sat up and rubbed my eyes for a moment. With my mind adjusting to the dark, I let out a yawn.

That's when I heard it. Small whimpers and soft cries from beside me.

Glancing over, I saw Minho shaking as he covered his mouth so I wouldn't hear. His eyes were tightly shut as tears stained his face. Curled up in a ball, he sobbed into his hand.

Not saying anything, I got out of bed and went over to him. Running my hands through his hair, I whispered comforting words as I slowly sat beside him. Moving over, he gave me half of the bed. As I laid down I pulled the blankets over our heads to try and block out the light and the noise.

"It won't hurt you. Nobody's going to hurt you,"I promised. Burying his head in my chest, he cried harder, his tears getting on my shirt. Ignoring it, I cradled his head with my hands. "I won't let anything touch you. You're safe now, Minho. You're safe,"I repeated.

Right as I said those words that were supposed to assure him there was another roar of thunder followed by bright lightning. Wrapping his arms around me even tighter, he seemed unable to stop his tears. Holding back my own from seeing him in so much pain, I closed my eyes as I kissed his temple.

"It's okay. It'll be over soon. I promise it won't last forever,"I swore. Shaking his head, he sniffled as he wore himself out. Humming to him, I kept him as close as possibly. Tangling his legs in mine, he was curled up to my side.

Minho's one of the strongest people that I know. He's been through so much. He knows what hell is. He's seen it with his own eyes. He's been touched by the devil himself. He's been burned despite the way he never put his hand on the stove.

He's suffered so much. His brain chemistry will never be the same because of it. He will forever be scarred, doomed to live a life people expect him to be grateful for while his past keeps doing everything to haunt him.

He's only human. That means that sometimes he just needs to be held. He needs to be shielded from the world. He needs to be shown love. He needs someone to show that they won't be somebody who leaves him.

I'll never leave him. I'll hold him through every single storm and stay up all night looking out for him.

Exactly the way I am right now.

[dark-mnjiro]

speaking in tongues ::: .01.

Author’s Note: hello again everyone! Welcome to part one and thank you for so much love on the prologue. I know it was quite short but it was needed to set up the story. I hope you guys enjoy part one. Make sure to check out the content warning from the masterlist as it has general content warning. Also, again, I will be tagging “part specific” content warnings. Always check both.

Content Warnings: please see the masterlist for general content warnings for this fic. Please be advised drug use, alcohol content, violence/abuse, creepy men being creepy, exotic dancing, lap dances, sexual innuendos/names/etc, fucking Adam is a content warning himself - let’s be real.

Dividers by @/cafekitsune

part one

“How the devil himself could be pulled out of me”

The echo of her name roared over the bass of the music that blared in the club as she stepped onto the stage and took hold of the pole. A smirk curled over her lips before quickly spinning around the pole in time with the music. She could hear her fellow dancers cheering her as well from backstage as she landed another pole trick as the music ended.

Money pelted the stage as Imps scampered to collect the cash into a bin. She gave the onlookers a quick bow before heading backstage where she was greeted with a hug by one of her close friends, Angeldust.

“That was fucking phenomenal baby!” he exclaimed, grinning.

Laughing, she ruffled his snowy hair. “Shut the fuck up. Everything I know is because of you.”

“Don’t be so modest, Cashmere,” he replied, scoffing.

One of the Imps tapped Cashmere on the thigh causing her to glance down. The Imp held up a wad of cash, her earnings from the dance.

Cashmere took the cash before thumbing through the cash, counting in her head but immediately frowned. “This can’t be right.”

The Imp looked down to the floor. “Valentino took his cut.”

“Mother fucker,” she snapped.

Angeldust frowned. “How much did he take this time?”

The Imp sighed. “Over half… nearly seventy percent.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?!”

Cashmere cursed again before heading to her dressing room. She tossed the cash on her vanity before falling into the seat. She rubbed her eyes before leaning back on her chair letting out a frustrated sigh.

“Oh, Chiquita~”

Her lips dipped into a frown as she heard her dressing room door opening and Valentino stepped inside. “I see you got your earnings,” he teased as his firm towered over her. “You know, I wouldn’t have to take such a high cut if you would just make a itty bitty deal with me—”

“No.”

His crimson eyes narrowed at her. “Fine.”

“Now if you excuse me,” Cashmere said, turning away from him. “I’m going to change and head home—”

“Oh not this time,” he said, shifting his weight to one leg as his gold tooth poked out from his smirk. “I have a high-paying client…”

“I don’t–”

He snatched her up by her hair before hissing. “I dare you to interrupt me again.”

Tears brimmed at the corners of her eyes as she hissed in pain. “I-I’m sorry. I won’t do it again.”

Sure, Cashmere owned her soul…

But that didn’t stop Valentino from trying to break her down so she’d inevitably give it up to him… he had tried every tactic. Manipulation. Financial distress. And most recently, physical harm.

He dropped her to the floor. “Now get cleaned up, princesa,” he commented. “You have ten minutes before I drag you to that room.”

“Of course Val…” she managed to say. “I’ll be out soon.”

The door slammed before she rolled onto her side and curled up into the fetal position. Cashmere gently wiped away the tears burning at her eyes before hugging herself… the only amount of comfort she would ever find in Hell.

She managed to stand up and clean up the makeup stains on her cheeks before readjusting her hair. High-paying client, huh? What kind of deprived lunatic did Val happen to find that offered enough money to convince him to offer her up as a private dance… or worse.

She recalled conversations with Angeldust that the majority of private dances ended in some sort of solicitation for sex…

As if she hadn’t done that enough while she was alive.

“Just keep telling yourself you’re anywhere but here,” she told herself as she changed her outfit and shoes. Perhaps, this punishment in hell was well deserved after all the deprived things she did while living…

Shaking her head, Cashmere quickly planted a smile on her face in the mirror as she checked herself out one last time. “Performance. Nothing more. It’s not real.”

“Cashmere!”

Opening the door, she smiled at Valentino who was waiting outside her dressing room door. “Sorry. Shoes were being difficult.”

He bought the lie as he smirked. “You look delicious, princesa.”

If she knew he wouldn’t strike her, she would have visibly gagged at the compliment.

She followed him toward the private dancing rooms. The hallway was barely lit as she passed Angeldust, who frowned at her appearance in that hallway. She gave him a shallow shake of her head, indicating she would explain later.

Valentino pulled back the curtain to one of the rooms as she stepped inside. “Show him a good time.”

It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a threat.

She couldn’t see his face, not that it mattered. No one in Hell was completely human anymore… she noted what she believed to be horns on his head. Oh well, it’s not like it mattered to her.

The music cut on, catching her off guard with the type of rock music that was playing. Not something she was accustomed to dancing to… but no matter.

“Well?”

She held back a scowl before moving to straddle his lap. The dance started as she began moving her hips.

“Are all you bitches like this here?”

…what the fuck did he just say?

“I’m sorry?”

“How is this supposed to be hot?” he asked, scoffing. “You’re not even looking at me.”

Cursing under her breath, she looked back at him. Her eyes had adjusted enough to notice that it seemed his face was similar to a screen. Perhaps he was another TV demon like Vox.

A clawed hand came up and grasped her chin, pinching it in its grasp. A yellow smirk came up on the screen. “That’s right. Lemme see that pretty face.”

She jerked away from him, unable to hide the scowl on her face now. “Don’t touch me.”

He tutted. “I paid for you. I can touch you if I want.”

Fuck. He was right.

She decided to focus on the music again and try to ignore his random commentary throughout her dance. It was insulting really… to be criticized by someone that had no idea how talented she truly was.

This had to be Valentino’s way of sticking it to her in another way.

“That’s it?”

Cashmere rose and stepped back. “I’ll have you know I’m one of the top dancers in this club!”

“Could’ve fooled me. I fucked plenty of bitches livelier than you.”

Was this happening?

“You’re not even that hot you know?”

“Funny,” she hissed. “Coming from someone with a hard-on right now.”

Silence filled the room.

“The fuck did you just say?”

Cashmere crossed her arms before shifting her weight from one leg to another. “I’m not repeating myself.”

He jumped to his feet, his body towering over her before backing her against the back wall. “You’re a little cuck aren’t you?”

“Fuck you,” she snapped as she shoved him away from her. “Give me my money and get out.”

Silence.

He stepped closer to her. Her hands came back up and tried to force him backward but this time he didn’t budge.

“You’re a filthy, little sinner.”

“Speak for yourself.”

He scowled. “I’m going to enjoy-”

Cashmere put her hands back up and aimed to push his face away from her. Her hand slipped, almost screaming when she noticed it wasn’t his face, but a mask, which had turned completely ninety degrees.

“Mother fucker!” he snapped, adjusting the mask.

“A mask?!”

“Good observation genius.”

Her brow furrowed. She reached around and snatched the mask off of his head. Her eyes widened before he stumbled back, cursing at her.

Golden eyes.

“You’re a fucking angel?!”

He snatched his mask back. “I’m THEE angel babe.”

“Why the fuck are you even here?!”

He ran a hand through his dark locks before letting out a frustrated sigh. “Heaven business. Studying you skanks down here,” he explained. “They want to know what the fuck is going on down here so they sent the most holy of souls-”

Cashmere inwardly groaned. She recalled several newscasts in the past talking about Heaven’s first soul… a self-proclaimed “bad boy” of sorts. Everyone knew his name… everyone knew his story.

“Adam? The first man Adam?”

“Took you long enough babe.”

“Don’t call me that!”

Adam shrugged his shoulders, trying to adjust his mask, cursing under his breath as he did so. “Babes… relax.”

“Also why the fuck are you in HELL. In a STRIP CLUB.”

“I told you,” he countered. “I’m studying.”

“Studying what? Hard ons? Don’t get those in Heaven?”

He scoffed. “Please. I’m very well-versed in that doll face. All dick came from me after all.”

“…you need to leave. Now.”

Groaning, he sat back down on the velvet couch. He moved his hand to mimic her speaking. He leaned his head back against the top of the couch as his legs spread apart.

“You’re a pill.”

“Fuck you.”

He snorted. “As if I would waste my time fucking a filthy sinner.”

Her feline-like ears flattened against her head. “Like I said,” Cashmere hissed as her tail flicked wildly behind her. “I’m not the one with an erection.”

He tilted his head. “Can’t stop staring? Can’t say I blame you. The dick is fire, doll face.”

“You know what,” she hissed. “Forget the money. Give it to Val.” She headed toward the door.

“Whoa whoa whoa,” he quickly said. “Just wait for a second, princess.”

She closed her eyes in frustration again. But, she paused her movements.

“I think you’ll be the perfect little project to study while I’m down here,” he said before standing up. “You’re going to be so much fun to torment. So be at the embassy tomorrow. I’ll discuss with your “boss” about the arrangements we have set up. No questions from him.”

“He’s-”

“If I pay him enough and tell him I’m fucking you,” Adam continued. “It’ll be enough.”

A frustrated sigh fell from her lips. “Deal,” she replied. “What are you even studying?”

“That’s for me to know,” Adam retorted. “And you to find out.”

“…you don’t know, do you?”

“Fuck you.”

Cashmere checked her surroundings as she reached Heaven’s embassy before sneaking inside. She couldn’t let her reputation be spiked by making an appearance here. As she looked at the tall ceilings, she had to admit that Heaven sure knew how to make beautiful structures.

“…why do we even need an embassy?” She questioned under her breath.

“To keep an eye on you filthy monsters.”

Squeaking, she jumped forward in surprise at the voice behind her. A swear fell from her lips as she turned to see Adam standing behind her looking confused by her reaction.

“Don’t fucking sneak up on me!”

Rolling his eyes, Adam moved his way around her before falling back into his chair. He was wearing his mask again.

“Is there a reason you wear a mask?”

He was silent for a moment. “No.”

He sounded almost unsure of his answer.

Cashmere took the seat in front of his desk before shrugging. “I don’t know any angels… do they all wear them?”

Adam was quiet again, pondering the answer to that question. “Yes and no,” hoping that answer was enough to satisfy her. But her stare only told him he would have to elaborate.

He began to explain the different types of beings that lived in Heaven. There was God. The Ruler, the Creator. The Seraphim. The Cherubs. And finally, The Angels.

“So some Angels are human souls, like mine?”

Adam nodded. “They take many forms. Animals, humans… whatever you want. It’s Heaven. The Seraphim can change their forms… often their true forms scare the human souls so they take on more appealing forms.”

She sat back and tapped her chin. “Interesting.” She wondered what Heaven looked like if it was similar to what Hell was like. Was it cleaner? Was it as crowded? Were the souls up there happy? Who was she kidding, of course, the souls in Heaven were happier. None of them were being punished for their actions while they were living.

“Is it nice being happy all the time?”

Confusion filled his golden eyes before quickly recovering and smirking at her. “Of course babe… Every day is a wonderful day in Heaven.”

Cashmere didn’t catch the brief lapse of his mask before offering him a nod. She knew that she would never belong in Heaven. Not with her past and her choices while she was alive. “So what is this supposed to do?” she asked.

Adam let out a frustrated sigh before stretching his arms over his head. “I fucking told you<” he countered. “To study sinners.”

“Study what?” she replied, flatly.

He glanced down at his desk at the folder that Sera had given him before sending it to the embassy. Inside, he found an outline of questions and discussions that she and Emily wished for him to touch base on with a sinner. How fucking boring were these questions?

“The fuck did you do to screw up so badly, you ended up here?”

The question was meant to offend her, Cashmere knew that much, but she managed to smile at him. “I’m a phenomenal liar,” she replied, cooly. “How will you know that I’m telling the truth?”

“You think I give a shit if you’re telling me the truth?” he countered, “I’m merely here to make the Seraphim happy.”

Sighing, Cashmere raked a clawed hand through her hair. “Where do you want me to start?”

Adam merely shrugged in response.

Shaking her head, Cashmere glanced off to the side as some of the memories of her living life crossed her mind. Running away from home at such an early age wasn’t the best decision she had ever made, but it helped Cashmere keep her sanity while she was still living. She fell into prostitution by eighteen. Clients would often stiff her after services, so she learned how to fight back from fellow call girls. She often lured men in with promises of sex for quick cash before hitting them over the head with some sort of blunt object and robbing them blind.

“So not only a skank,” Adam interrupted. “But a thief too.”

Cashmere should have seen this insult coming from miles away but still caused her to frown. “Sometimes you have to do shit to eat.”

He tilted his head. “What do you mean?”

“I can’t imagine you’ve ever gone hungry a day in your life.”

“The fuck is that supposed to mean?!”

Cashmere shrugged before smirking in response. “Nothing.”

“Calling me fat?!”

“If the shoe fits.”

“You know what,” Adam sneered. “Fuck you!”

Cashmere leaned back in the chair, stretching out her back. “My dad left when I was young. Never looked back,” she commented. “My mom couldn’t afford all of us kids. So being the oldest, I took myself out of the equation, to make it easier for her. Last I knew, they were doing amazing without me. That’s all I could ask for.”

His eyes narrowed, confused by her statement.

“I loved my family,” she said. “I couldn’t let them starve.”

Sadness flooded her mind. She had done the right thing, right?

Adam’s eyes fell to the papers on his desk. “They were starving?”

“I imagine the world is a very different place than when you were living.”

He rubbed his temples with his index fingers. “I’m not going to agree with you if that’s what you’re waiting for.”

Cashmere rolled her eyes. “So you never told me why you were at a strip club wanting a lap dance.”

“I don’t think I should have to explain myself to whore trash like yourself.”

“Just trying to make conversation I guess,” she sighed. “What now?”

Adam didn’t respond as he was lost in writing a few notes down in the paperwork scattered on his desk. She tried to strain her eyes to read what he was writing before he slammed his hand over the paper and pulled it closer to himself. Her eyes scanned upward, catching his golden hues glaring back at her.

“Haven’t you heard of the saying, curiosity killed the cat, kitten?”

“I’m already dead,” she countered. “It can’t get any worse.”

Touche.

“Just don’t fucking look at my notes okay? Top secret shit for Heaven.”

Cashmere offered a nod, a silent agreement that she would no longer try to spy on his notes. “Do you think we can get this done in one day?”

“I wish I could, sugartits,” he said. “But they said I have to spend three months—”

“Three months?!”

“Oh yeah,” he teased. “Get used to me doll.”

“My name is Cashmere.”

“I know.”

“So call me by my name.”

“I never call bitches by their names.”

She let out a frustrated sigh. “So the entire three months you’re here… you’re going to insist on calling me sugartits?”

“Well they are nice,” he teased. “Even for a sinner.”

Adam’s laughter echoed throughout the room as Cashmere decided it was best to not respond to his comment. She couldn’t fathom how she was stuck in a room with a man - let alone an angel - who laughed at his jokes.

“Are we done here?” she finally said.

“Hot date?”

“Hotter friends,” she countered. “We’re going out. Blow off steam.” Her phone buzzed before pulling out the cell phone and saw a message from Angeldust mentioning he had scored some drugs they could split at the bar. “I’m out of here,” she said before turning to leave.

Offended, Adam scoffed. “Fine. Be here tomorrow.”

She didn’t respond as the door shut behind her.

“Fuck yes, bitch!”

Cashmere laughed as she reached the club with Angeldust and Cherrybomb waiting for her at the entrance. Angeldust offered the bouncer a playful wave before gaining access to the club with the other two. Cherrybomb instantly pounced on Cashmere with a hug before showering her two friends with compliments and a complaint weaved in here and there.

“You two are always fucking working,” she groaned.

“Some of us are career bitches,” Angeldust replied before ordering the trio a round of shots.

Scoffing, Cherrybomb waved him off before glancing at Cashmere. “You too miss famous dancer?”

Cashmere rolled her eyes. “He’s right. Some of us have careers,” she teased before downing her shot. The alcohol burned down her throat and felt so good at the same time. The alcohol in Hell was different - it seemed to hit harder.

“Here,” Angeldust said, pulling out a baggy of white powder.

“Got a dollar?”

“You know it, baby,” he teased before rolling the single into a tube as Cashmere poured the powder out onto the table and used a card to line it up into three lines before putting the remaining powder back into the baggy. “You first, Cherrybomb!” she said before waving down a bartender to get them another round of shots.

Their friend grinned before taking the makeshift tube snorting the line of cocaine and chasing with another shot of alcohol. Angeldust followed next. And it was finally Cashmere’s turn.

The rush of the cocaine hit her head first before the burn of the alcohol slipped down her throat. “Fuck,” she said. “Good shit Angeldust!”

He flashed her a playful grin. “Only the best for my favorite bitches.”

“Let’s go fucking dance!” Cherrybomb exclaimed.

Cashmere jumped to her feet. “Okay!”

Cherrybomb grabbed her and Angeldust, tugging them out to the dance floor. The music's bass filled the air as Cashmere closed her eyes and allowed herself to get lost in the music and her high. Her hips swayed in time with the beat as she felt eyes fall on her and her friends. Of course, they couldn’t enjoy a moment of peace dancing without some disgusting ghoul trying to catch a glimpse.

“Shit,” Cherrybomb hissed, glancing over Cashmere’s shoulder. “Don’t look now but a couple of fuck faces are trying to interrupt us.”

“I’m not drunk enough for this!” Angeldust whined.

Cashmere whipped around, catching two demon men approaching them, their frames towering over her. Her eyes narrowed before baring her teeth at them. “Back. The. Fuck. Up.”

One of the demons backed down immediately, but the other… Rage filled his eyes before snatching her wrist and jerking her toward him. “I know you,” he growled. “You’re that little skank dancer at Val’s club, aren’t you? Fucking tease. Won’t fuck anyone in the club.”

She tugged her hand back, rubbing her wrist. “Fuck off. We’re having fun. No one invited an ugly fuck like yourself,” she snapped. “Besides, you couldn’t afford even a second of one of my dances.”

His fist rose, aiming to strike her.

“Oh big scary man,” she taunted. “Gonna hit a girl like a little bitch huh?”

The strike never came, instead, Cashmere watched as he was launched into a table by another bystander striking him.

“What the fuck!”

Whipping around to see who had hit the stranger, Cashmere’s eyes widened upon catching a familiar LED screen with a pair of horns, sporting a glare. “The FUCK are you doing here?!”

Angeldust quirked an eyebrow. “Impressive,” he commented, “you know him Cash?”

She didn’t have time to react, let alone explain who this was to Angeldust. She grabbed Adam by the arm, quickly tugging him into one of the vacant “sex rooms” and locking the door.

“I can’t even begin to explain what a hazard it is for you… an ANGEL, to be waltzing around a fucking club - IN HELL.”

Adam shrugged, looking away from her. “Piece of shit can’t touch my project.”

“I was handling myself fine.”

“Not from where I was standing.”

Her eyes narrowed. “How long have you been here?”

“Long enough,” he replied, leaning against the wall and crossing his arms over his chest. “Saw those slutty dance moves.”

Rolling her eyes, Cashmere raked her fingers through her hair, moving some stray bits from her face. A sigh fell from her lips as she took a seat on the velvet couch. “Just go back to the embassy,” she said, shaking her head. “I’ll be fine and I’m with my friends-”

“Oh yeah Angeldust the porn star, super safe.”

“...you know Angeldust?”

Adam seemed to avoid answering the question before grumbling. “Let’s just go.”

“No,” Cashmere said, flatly. “You go, I’m staying.”

“You’re fucking trashed and you’re high. Let’s go before some fucking slimy sinner tries-”

She decided not to respond before standing up and heading to the door. She pulled back on the handle before his hand shot out and slammed it shut. She could feel his much larger form, towering over her from behind. His chest pressed against her back, causing her to swallow the growing lump in her throat.

“Adam?”

“Are you going to fucking listen now?”

Slowly, she turned around, catching the LED screen on his mask glaring at her.

“Answer me.”

Cashmere pressed her back against the wooden door frame as far as it could go. She couldn’t pinpoint exactly why he made her feel so small versus any other garbage demon on the street. “I’m with friends Adam. You don’t tell me what to do.” She tried to keep her voice stern.

He leaned down to her level before pulling his mask off. His golden eyes stared at her - almost with disgust. Perhaps this was why… He despised her.

“You’re coming with me, whether you like it or not.”

“The fuck are you going to do? Make me?”

His eyes narrowed before moving closer to her face. “Don’t tempt me.”

Her hand came up to paw at the door for the handle again.

He snatched her wrists, holding her hands over her head. “We’re leaving now.”

“W-what? Let go!”

Adam slipped on his mask again before tossing her over his shoulder. “Ready?”

“Fuck you!”

Adam shrugged. “That can be arranged, sugartits.”

“I hate you!”

“Feelings mutual, dollface.”

[lostinforestbound]

Inspired by @slumpsnail 's piece of their Dark Rolan concept! Check out their other piece here!

The Rise or The Downfall of a Wizard's Apprentice?

CW: Blood, Death, Description of Breakdown

The first emotion was shock. Rolan couldn't move from his place on his knees as he watched his master clinging to whatever life he had left. His hands are stained red, settled on his lap while Lorroakan crawls to him, his own blood seeping onto the floor in rapid speed. Rolan can't recall what he did exactly, but it was during one of his usual beatings. Something about being a "failure" and "an idiot who deserved everything he gave to him". The memory is fuzzy now, he didn't even realize he stopped shaking from fear.

Lorroakan doesn't say anything, not that he could from the pain, but he looks fearful. A fear of death, perhaps? What a coward.

His mouth spits blood out, and he looks ready to beg. For mercy, Rolan hopes, because how humiliating would that be, for a master to beg for his life from his student?

His mentor doesn't get the chance before he stops moving, the life leaving his eyes, wide with a permanent terror. Rolan wonders if he's going to one of the Hells, his soul forever tortured.

After the initial shock dies down, he runs his hands down his face, uncaring of the blood trail he leaves on his bruised cheekbones as his eyes shine with glee. He killed Lorroakan, the Lorroakan, and yet he felt nothing but pure joy. Is this how Tav feels when they kill someone they hate? This addicting satisfaction that makes his blood rush with adrenaline?

By the gods, is he going insane? He can't find it in his heart to care, so he laughs.

He laughs and laughs, loud and prominent, echoing in the stillness of the room. What a fool he has been. Was it always this easy to kill someone? Does it matter now? It felt so fucking good. Even as he calms, his happiness still remains. In all honesty, he thought he could have died here. When he first struck his master, it was out of terror. He was going to beat him again, and he pleaded for him to stop. It didn't work, and when his teacher's staff raised once more, he held out his hands and- Bursting into a new, quiet giggle fit, he rests his head on his still-wet hand, staring down at the body with a smile. "Oh how the mighty have fallen, Master Lorroakan. Though, you were not mighty to begin with."

A small part of his breaking mind is screaming at him, wondering what in the hells has he done? What would Cal and Lia think if they saw him now, practically bathing in his master's blood? What would their mother think? What would they think when they realized he it enjoyed it?

It doesn't matter, they're all dead, including the man he once was.

He gets up on surprisingly steady feet, leaning down and grabbing Lorroakan's hair by the scalp, beginning to drag it towards the balcony. "Master Lorroakan, do you believe in karma?"

There is no response, but it's not as if he was expecting one. The body's getting cold.

"I'm not talking about you, oh no, I'm talking about yours truly." He says casually, grip tight. "My parents abandoned me, and when I get adopted into another one, their mother dies. Then The Descent, where I saw prowling devils and undead roam the streets, tearing people apart. When we finally escape, we're exiled by Elturel, our only home. When we finally make our trek to Baldur's Gate from a grove that hated us, Cal and Lia are eaten alive by shadows."

He finally reaches the railing, leaning against it to rest briefly. "Then, when I eagerly arrive to you with nothing, you beat me for saying the wrong answers to nonsensical questions. Yet look at you now."

Lifting the head to his face, he grins happily as he stares into the lifeless eyes of his mentor. "Master, I believe karma is finally on my side, after all this time. This tower is mine now," he snorts, trying not to laugh again, "I suppose I should thank you! None of this would have happened if it weren't for your weakness."

He picks up the body proper now, getting closer to the railing. "Goodbye, Master. I'm sure there's a special place in the afterlife, just for you."

Without thinking twice on it, he throws Lorroakan's body off the edge, watching it fall down the edge of the tower. He can't see the bottom from here, but he can't only imagine the body mangling as soon as it hits the ground. The people down below probably won't recognize who it is, but that doesn't matter.

All of this knowledge in the tower he now has access to, but where to start? He should probably clean all the blood but...no, he'll keep the stains there for a while longer, as a reminder of one of his greatest achievements.

A spineless wretch is what Lorroakan was. A pathetic, greedy human who wanted to keep this almost infinite knowledge and artifacts all to himself. Now it was all Rolan's, the new master of Ramazith's tower.

Master Rolan has a good ring to it, and he's too excited to get started on his infinite studies.

That's when he notices that dwarven man in the corner of the red stained room, shaking like a leaf. Another apprentice under Lorroakan. He saw everything. What was his name again? Ah, well...

He fires his magic missile in an instant, killing the man from where he stood with the brightest smile he's ever had in many years.

There cannot be witnesses, now can there?

Part 3