#The Devil's Daughter Chapter 5

[charlotteking23]

The Lion's Lamb - Chapter 5 - MV1/33

Max Verstappen x reader

The Lion's Lamb Series: Aesthetics, Ch.1, Ch.2, Ch.3, Ch.4

You were not the one to complain.

You knew the life you lived was one many dreams of having. As an American, you grew up hearing stories about the American Dream, but your dreams lay elsewhere.

The United States had beautiful places, cities, and people, but you felt your inspiration was elsewhere. So you left.

Your family wasn't happy about your plan, but if leaving was what made you happy, who were they to stop you?

For a year, you traveled around Europe, taking in the art and culture at every stop. Once you saw Monaco for the first time, you knew it would become your new home.

Moving there would cost money, and it was not in the price range of a struggling, traveling artist.

You had saved up as much money as possible, yet you still couldn't afford to buy, let alone rent an apartment.

You stayed not far outside the city-state and would often travel into Monaco when your work required it.

In doing so, you meet your saving grace and your worst nightmare: Amelia.

Amelia is your roommate. You often like to believe she is the devil reincarnated, but never voice your opinion because of what the girl's father is doing for you.

Amelia came from a prominent British family and her father, Michael, was a financial genius, making her more than well-off in life.

But the girl herself knew nothing of hard work, having had everything handed to her on a silver platter.

This caused her to become poisoned to the core in your opinion. She was a gorgeous girl, but her personality was nothing but ugly.

Many ask the young American girl, Why? Why would you live with someone you thought was terrible?

Getting a decent price rental in Monaco isn't the easiest. Most places are not affordable for a person in your income bracket, and the apartment complexes you could afford were designated for Monegasque citizens only.

And you haven't yet met the requirements to become a citizen. The young American girl met Amelia at an art show where she was being featured in Monaco.

Well, you had initially met the British girl's father, Michael, when he bought one of her pieces being displayed that night.

The two had immediately hit it off and it wasn't long until he offered you a room in his flat in Monaco.

They had developed a relationship, but not one many would expect from an older man and a younger girl.

He had seen you as a daughter and had hoped that in offering you a place to stay, your hardworking and sweet nature would rub off on his daughter.

Once you had moved in, Amelia immediately started bullying and belittling you. You couldn't figure out why you were being treated this way, but the British girl held a slight jealousy towards the younger girl.

Her father gave you a lot of attention and she knew that he wished you were his daughter rather than her.

You put up with her terrible behavior because her father was doing you a favor out of the goodness of his heart.

You had tried to make herself feel better about being there for free and tried to reduce the British girl's attitude towards you by cooking and cleaning, but that made it seem like you were the older girl's maid, and so you were treated as such.

Max had arrived home in the early hours of Monday morning. Usually, he would have gone out and celebrated his win with his team, but not this time.

Getting back to you, which was stuck in his mind, has become the most important thing to him.

Those around him didn't think twice about Dutchman, not attending the after-party, knowing, that even though he won, he always thought he could do better. This is mainly just due to his father. 

Jos Verstappen wasn't a good man and everyone knew that. He was an even worse father.

At a young age, he had drilled the idea into his son's head that there would always be someone better. 

"You will never be good enough," were the words that echoed through Max's head. 

He'd never been praised by his father, even after he won his first world championship. There was never a good job out of his father's mouth.

Because of this, the young driver had pushed himself. Not take a break, rarely celebrated, and devoted all of his attention to racing. Until now at least. 

Christian Horner knew the Dutchman better than most. He knew Max's parents and knew that the lack of childhood the boy had, had affected him greatly.

Don't get it twisted, most F1 drivers never had a normal childhood like everyone else, but Max's was much more extreme.

While the younger driver's father was present in his life, he still lacked the paternal figure he needed, and Christian filled that void. 

While it wasn't obvious to anyone else, the Redbull principal knew there was a certain pep in the driver's step after the race.

Usually after a race, Max is often seen with his head, buried in screens, analyzing every turn, every overtake, just trying to see what he needed to do to improve.

This time, that wasn't the case. Instead of immediately analyzing his race, he instead called someone.

No one had ever been able to take the driver's attention away from his job.

This immediately caught the attention of the British man.

He had seen the slight smile and the way his eyes lit up when speaking on the phone from across the paddock. He figured this wasn't just anyone Max was talking to, he knew this person had to be special.

The team principal knew how much stress his driver had been under recently, so to see him smile, even just a small one, made him extremely happy.

With how quickly the driver took off after their meetings, Christian knew there was a special someone in the young man's life.

The only hope was that this unknown girl brought the Dutch driver, the happiness he truly deserved. 

Early Monday afternoon, you received a text from your blue-eyed man.

7 PM dinner. I'll pick you up.

The text itself was straightforward and assertive, causing you to bite your lip and nervousness and excitement.

You were happy, though that he was true to his word about seeing you again. You just didn't expect it to be the day he came back home from a work trip.

You quickly responded with your address. You weren't the type to send your address to someone you had just met, especially someone she didn't know well, but this was different. Max was different

6:45 PM, and the knockhead resonated throughout the large apartment.

You quickly raced over to the front door, not only to keep your roommate away from the man who had caused your heart to skip a beat but also because you had missed him and couldn't wait to see him.

It was a strange feeling for you to miss someone, you barely knew, but you couldn't help it.

You knew he had been waiting on the other side of the door and you needed a moment to completely gather yourself. Your heart was racing as you wiped your clammy palms on the side of your dress.

You threw open your front door without a second thought, afraid that if you stood there any longer without opening the door, he would leave.

There he stood, on the other side of the door the most beautiful man, in your opinion, you have ever seen. He was wearing a white button-up, a simple blue blazer, and black slacks.

He emanated old money, and it wasn't a bad look on him at all. In his hands though, was a bouquet for the beautiful pink tulips.

You couldn't believe this man wanted to go out on a date with you.

"Hi," Max breathed out, holding out the flowers towards the girl in front of him, "these are for you."

In the blink of an eye, you had thrown yourself into the Dutchman's arms. He was surprised at this but responded to the hug almost instantly. Burring his face in your neck, feeling like, for the first time, he had finally found a home in your arms.

"I've missed you," the muffled voice said as your face was still buried in the driver's chest.

Chuckling, he pulled away regretfully and grabbed your chin tilted up towards him, "I've missed you, too, a little lamb."

Grinning, you looked down at the flowers in Max's hand before taking them, "these are beautiful."

A smile was plastered on your face as you walked inside to put the flowers in the vase. Max, followed after you but continued to linger in the entranceway, not wanting to intrude.

He watched as you continued to rummage through every single cabinet, trying to find a vase, or anything similar, so you could display the beautiful flowers.

You had been through all the cabinets before you finally sighed, realizing you'd have to go ask Amelia where they were. 

"Sorry," You had told the man in your doorway with an apologetic smile, "I have to ask my roommate where we keep the vases". 

Max had smiled back at you, reassuringly, not minding all as you walked down the visible hall before turning to face a closed door. Curiosity filled the man's mind as he watched his little lamb's entire body change.

Your shoulders had dropped, your steps had slowed, and the excitement you had held in your body just moments ago had completely evaporated.

He had found the answers he needed when he had overheard the conversation between you and your roommate. 

"Amelia," You said softly while knocking on the older girl's door.

"What!" the older girl responded with such harshness, that you were questioning how badly you needed the vase. 

"Do you know where the vases are?"

"God," the girl said exasperated and her words dripping with disgust, "How a

re you so fucking stupid that you can't find a simple thing like a vase?!"

"Sorry," you said meekly and started to turn away before you heard a voice that stopped you. 

"They're on top shelf in the cabinet above the fridge," Amelia stated. 

With a quick thanks, you quickly walked back to the kitchen, found the vase, and displayed the flowers, before telling Max you were ready to go. They left quickly after that. 

The ride to their date location was quiet. Usually, there was never any awkward tension between the two, but now, the car was filled with it.

You couldn't stop your hands from fidgeting, especially after noticing Max's hands white-knuckling the steering wheel as he drove. 

"We don't have to go on this date if you don't want to," You had finally broken the silence, not being able to sit there anymore, "I'm sorry if I did something wrong. I understand if you don't want to be around me anymore, you can just drop me back off if you'd like."

Before you could get another word out, Max quickly pulled the car over to the side of the road.

You thought that he didn't want to see you anymore, and he had pulled the car over as an indication that you should get out. Your eyes had started to water and your heart started to break. 

The Dutchman's head had whipped around to look at you so quickly, you were surprised he didn't get whiplash, "What are you talking about? Why would I want to drop you back off?"

"Well," You had started to play with your hands again, " you seem mad at me for some reason."

"Why would I ever be mad at you?" Max questioned with a soft voice. 

"Because I made you wait while I found a vase."

"Little Lamb," he had taken your hand in his, causing you to look up at him with those gorgeous eyes he adored, "I could never be mad at you."

"You're not mad?" You asked.

"I am mad, but not at you. Your roommate. The way she spoke to you had pissed me off. You never should be spoken to that way, no matter what."

Max had reached his hand up to caress your cheek softly. He wanted to make sure you knew that his anger wasn't directed at you.

He had been so upset with the way your roommate spoke to you, that he chose to keep his anger to himself instead of lashing out at you and possibly scaring his little lamb. In doing so, he hadn't realized that his sweet girl thought he had been upset with you.  

"You're beautiful, my little lamb," Max says, "Both inside and out. Please don't ever doubt yourself or my feelings towards you. 

A blush had erupted across your face, along with a shy smile. His words were nothing but sincere and you knew that. He quickly pulled you closer and left a quick kiss on your forehead, before turning back to the front of the car and continuing on their way. 

Max made sure to hold your hand the rest of the way. 

Taglist: @shelbyteller, @smithieandy, @fangirlforever2000, @herexpertcollector, @vip-access, @genevieve-blr

[maximumqueer]

I think there are a couple of reasons why there is so much "controversy" (if you can even call it that) surrounding chapter 1118. Part of it is just misogyny. There are unfortunately a lot of misogynistic fans in shonen spaces, and One Piece is no exception. They don't like that a girl gets a cool power up, especially if its similar at all to the male protagonist, who has to be depicted as cooler and more powerful than every other character (but especially the women) at all times.

And that mindset bleeds into the the second reason. Being that the people mad at this chapter (in my opinion) don't really understand One Piece as a story. They treat it as a more stereotypical shonen, when in it far from that, and Luffy as a stereotypical shonen protag, when he is anything but. Some of the complaints that I've seen directed at Bonney's Nika-like form is that it robs Luffy of what makes him special as a character and undermines the importance of Gear 5/Nika.

To tackle the first part, Luffy's power set has never been what has made him special. We've seen already that devil fruits can have similar abilities. Monet and Aokiji both have ice based powers, Catarina Devon and Bon Clay can both mimic how other people look. Hell, we've already seen a devil fruit user with similar powers to Luffy in the form of Katakuri, and I don't remember fans being angry about that. Luffy isn't the only person to awaken his fruit, nor is the only person to have awakened the Nika fruit. And he won't be the last, because that's how devil fruits work. When Luffy dies, the Nika fruit will respawn and someone else will carry on the name of Nika. This is even more obvious with haki. At least half of the characters Luffy has fought in the New World had conqueror's haki, just like him. What does make Luffy special is who he is as a person. It's his ability to reignite hope in people. His nigh unwavering belief in both his own and others dreams, and his ability to inspire that belief in others.

As for it undermining Gear 5. Luffy's awakening has always been about freedom, but not just for himself. Nika is a god of liberation, not personal freedom. If anything, Luffy being able to instill such a deep and profound sense of freedom into a person that they are able to take on a Nika-like form FURTHERS its importance, especially thematically.

Its also is worth mentioning that Bonney's Nika transformation is the perfect culmination of her and Kuma's arc. For a young girl, who spent the majority of her life trapped inside because of a terminal illness brought on at the hands of the world nobles, whose father - in order to cure her so she could have freedom - sold his body to the world government (after previously escaping enslavement by the very same people). For her to achieve complete and total freedom, and for Kuma to be there to see it, to know that in the end he succeeded, and that his daughter is now wholly and truly free - having taken the form of the god he worshipped - is beautiful. Is the perfect way to bookend both of their arcs.

(Also Luffy literally ENCOURAGED Bonney to take on her Nika form. And he laughs with delight when she is successful. He is HAPPY for her.)

All this to say, Bonney's Nika form is fucking awesome and I can't wait to see her and Luffy kick ass together in the next chapter.

[call-sign-shark]

Heaven In Your Eyes || Masterlist

Pairing: Arthur Shelby x Reader!OC (Heaven Lavey Shelby)

Additional content/Info: CLICK HERE

Fic Summary: He meets her at church one dreary night, guided by her singing. Her name? Heaven Lavey. White ivory hair, fair porcelain skin, and petite shape, this almost ethereal creature is Arthur's strict opposite. Yet, all it took was one dive into her heavenly eyes for him to be convinced God has sent His sweetest angel to save his bastard soul. The two lovebirds, obsessed with each other, are determined to live their love no matter people's judgments and no matter the dangers of a Peaky Blinder's life. They are together through the best and through the worst.

But behind her holy appearance and sweet facade, Heaven Lavey is dangerous. With rumors of witchcraft and murder, her shady past weighs on her shoulders. And if she is a blessing for Arthur Shelby, she will soon prove to be a curse for those who dare to stand in her and her husband's way. Even Thomas Shelby himself.

She is Arthur’s Angel, but don't get fooled by her doe eyes: for the rest of us, she is the White Devil.

And by extend, you are too.

Why? Because Heaven Lavey… It’s you.

TW: Major character death, explicit sexual content, canonical violence, graphic description of violence, blasphemy, witch trials and burning of innocent women, dependent relationship (if Arthur and Heaven are happy in their relationship, they are obsessed and possessive, which leads to bursts of violence and deifying from Arthur. By no means I am claiming their relationship is healthy, but it is what works for them)

ACT I. SACRILEGE

♢ Ch. 1 || Heaven in Your Eyes

♢ Ch. 2 || Never Did, Never Dared

♢ Ch. 3 || Something Wicked This Way Comes 🔞

♢ Ch. 4 || Dead Bird at Witchin Hour

♢ Ch. 5 || The Hell in His Eyes

♢ Ch. 6 || The One They Should Have Burned

♢ Ch. 7 || Of Matches and Gasoline 🔞

♢ Ch. 8 || Tango on Broken Dreams

ACT II. CARNAGE

♢ Ch. 9 || For Whom the Bells Toll

♢ Ch. 10 || Closer to Heaven or Closer to Hell? 🔞

♢ Ch. 11 || When The Bridges Burn

♢ Ch. 12 || As They Always Did

♢ Ch. 13 || Cross My Heart and Hope to Die

♢ Ch. 14 || Pure As a Lamb 🔞

♢ Ch. 15 || Women Like Me in a Men's World

♢ Ch. 16 || Après Moi le Déluge

♢ Ch. 17 || Our Old Friend Death (c o m i n g . . .)

♢ Ch. 18 || Il Diàvulu Biancu

♢ Ch. 19 || Empire of Lies

♢ Ch. 20 || The Fog of Silent Hills

ACT III.

♢ Ch. 21 ||

♢ Ch. 22 ||

♢ Ch. 23 ||

♢ Ch. 24 ||

♢ Ch. 25 ||

♢ Ch. 26 ||

♢ Ch. 27 ||

♢ Ch. 28 ||

♢ The series can be longer.

Some events from the show are taken and obviously reworked. Yet, except for a few quotes and scenes, everything else is imagined by the author.

Related works - in chronological order-

♢ From Blood We Will Grow

♢ To Bark and Bite

♢ Kaiser Meeting Cyril (requested)

♢ A Bone to Pick With It (requested)

♢ Perfect Lines

♢ Savage Daughter

♢ A Slice of Us (Modern!HYE)

♢ Love Ritual (@zablife's celebration)

♢ The Woods Whisper 1, 2 (Halloween Horror)

♢Little Lamb 1, 2, 3 (Yandere!AU)

Moodboards and other content

♢ Playlist

♢ Moodboard Aesthetic

♢ Moodboard Chapter 6

♢Heaven In your Eyes Act II trailer

♢ Moodboard Chapter 12

♢ Heaven in your Eyes chapter 16 trailer

Looking for more? Check out Heaven's masterlist I and II.

Taglist: @adaydreamaway08 @theshelbyclan @jomarch-wannabe @esposadomd @zablife @woofgocows @anathemasworld @anastasia0082 @kate654 @kxnnxy @babayaga67 @meowtastic @shelbyssins @sarai-ibn-la-ahad @bluevenus19@justrainandcoffee @kishie8 @zablife @alexandra-001 @copinghex@alexizodd @helen06dreamer @kmc1989 @mischievouslittlecreature @peakyswritings @peakyltd @chaosinkest1996 @vanhelsingsbigtoe @cherubswhispers @he6rtshaker @bemyqueenofdarkness @cljordan-imperium @red-riding-wood @lokigirlszendaya @jjovin3221 @06nasyrah13 @randomcreator-09

[plutoswritingplanet]

Ring Of Fire (Lucifer x Female!Reader)

a/n: again, no one asked for this, but i've been rewatching supernatural and there is something about season 5 Lucifer that just hits the spot for me. this one will be multiple chapters (i swear), a bit on the darker side. Cross-Posted on AO3

Warnings: Dub-Con (nothing too scandalous), Soulmates (but not really), follows season 5 storyline, Kinda Depressing, Strongly Inspired by "Preacher's Daughter" by Ethel Cain

Summary: Knowing God has an actual plan for you would be comforting for most people. You, however, seem to be always down on your luck.

PT.2

The foliage is damp with the night's air, water seeping into the fabric of your jeans, as you sit in the low bushes, watching. Smoke still fills your lungs, and grief still fills your heart, Jo and Ellen's faces etched just beneath your eyelids. Tears stain your cheeks, drying slowly on your skin, forming an uncomfortable crust. It's been such a long time since you've experienced loss such as this. One that rips something out of you and refuses to give it back. You must've grown too comfortable since Dean has been brought back, life needed to bring you back down. Your hands hurt from the tight grip you hold on a branch of a nearby tree, nerves locking you in place, as you watch Dean approach the Devil. Except, you're not there anymore. 

It's warm inside Bobby's home, and you've changed out of your past outfit, scattering it on the floor, never to be used again. Still, you can feel phantom moisture on your knees, elbows, on the palms of your hands. Coldness, like nothing you've ever experienced, seeps deep into your bones, taking root within you. No candle, no prayer, no ancient exorcism can cleanse you of the revelations you've seen tonight. Your head feels heavy, when you drop it onto the pillow, as if some weight is pressing you further down, through the comforter, through the bed and the wooden floor. Through all the layers of Earth, until you're right where you're supposed to be. 

It's unfortunate, you thought back then, compelled to reveal yourself from your hideout by one command you couldn't ignore, he looks just like any human. Tall and lean, with a little softness to his body. His clothes were unassuming as well, casual. As if he just took a stroll through the woods from a supermarket. No one told you the name of his vessel, who he was before he said yes, why did he do it. His eyes were ordinary as well. Blue and gray, aged, tired. Human.

It would've been so easy to pass him on the streets, not knowing. He could've been one of the patrons in the countless bars you've visited while on the hunt. Handsome, yes, with an aura of a beaten dog around him, that, in any other circumstances would've made him irresistable to you. You could never refuse a hopeless case, now you supposed you knew why. 

Sam made you tea. It sits untouched on your night stand, steam flowing in dancing ribbons into the ceiling. Somehow, you can't seem to force yourself to drink it, even if you know the intention behind it has been kind. You couldn't eat as well, the smell of cooking coming from Bobby's kitchen reminded you too much of the smell of smoke coming from the exploding hardware store. And his smell. 

Burning coals, cedar wood, jasmine, all of them were pleasant once. Now, you know they will always be stuck in your head with only one association. Lucifer. 

Even thinking of his name brings a wave of shivers running down your back, as you curl into yourself on the bed. Your fingers scratch at skin of your jaw, trying to regain some sense of autonomy. Still, you can feel a phantom of his icy touch, where he grabbed your face like his hands were meant for it. And in a way they were. At least, that's what he told you. 

The demons gathered around the mass grave didn't even react, as you ran out of your cover, pushed to reveal yourself by the sight of Dean's flying body. Because how else would he coax you out, if not through the hurt of your boys? In hindsight, you were glad Dean was unconscious for the most part of this ordeal. After the night's events, it was hard to look him in the eye, you didn't need him witnessing your downfall over your head as well. Sam tried to make his way over to you, feet sliding cautiously through the grass, but suddenly Lucifer's eyes were on you, and you could feel your fate get sealed then and there. 

He clasped his hands in front of him, pursing his lips as he took you in, cowering on the ground, trying hard to find Dean's pulse. 

- You boys brought me a gift - he mused, eyes crinkling with some strange emotion - You shouldn't have. 

One gesture later, you're up on your feet, limbs trembling as he abandoned his shovel in favor of making his way towards you. You're frozen, fear seizing you in a tight grip, and you can't seem to think straight, as you watch him approach. Last day on Earth, you muse, life flashing before your eyes, when he raises both his hands. And then he grips your face, gentle yet confident, and the world around you spins. He's cold, so cold it's unnatural. Your lips fall apart in a silent gasp. 

- Do you know who you are? - he asks in a quiet voice that suddenly makes you understand why he's temptation incarnate - Do you know why you were put on this Earth?

All you can do is stare, confusion creasing your eyebrows. His breath reaches your collarbones, as he lowers his head slightly. You can hear him chuckle to himself. The sound makes you shudder, fear and anticipation mix within your gut. 

- All those years of hunting, struggling... - your life seems so trivial, coming from his lips - It all lead you here, to me. Doesn't that sound lovely?

It doesn't. It most definitely doesn't. Tears of confusion prick at the corners of your eyes, your breathing quickens. Panic settles into your nerves like a paralyzing blanket. Because here stands a threat of magnitude you couldn't even dream of. The Satan, the Devil, Bible's biggest villain. And he knows something about you, that you cannot comprehend. 

- It's really quite pathetic, when you think about it - he muses, hands leaving your face in a flash, as he starts to pace in thought.

Swaying in your place, you risk looking at Sam, his confusion mirroring your own. Dean is still unconscious beside him. There's a thin smudge of blood running down his forehead, and you want to move so badly. You've spent years caring for these boys, being there for them, whenever they needed you. Yet, at this crucial moment all you can do, is stare in horror.  

- My Father's last ditched attempt - Lucifer turns to you with a tight smile that doesn't reach his eyes - To give me my own special little bag of worms. To own, to care for, to change my mind. 

- What?

Your own voice sounds foreign to your ears. Lies. Those had to be lies. He's Satan after all, manipulation was his forte. Yes, that had to be it. Just another, messed up way at getting an upper hand over Sam. 

This time, you nearly scream when he advances towards you, his cold hands immediately finding purchase on your face, covering your jaw and your cheeks. He presses against your face so hard, you have to take a step back as he comes closer still. Sam's figure flashes out of the corner of your eye, and suddenly you feel the rough surface of a tree bark digging into your back. 

- You - for the first time you can hear some tension in his voice, something more than cold indifference - You were made for me, Honey. Just like Sam is destined to be my vessel, you're destined to be by my side. To own, to care. - he repeats those words like a mantra, and you want to throw up at how genuine he sounds.

He smiles at your terror. Tears start to flow freely from your eyes, falling on his cold fingers, skipping down his arms in smudges. His hands start to move, a perversion of a caress, as he ruffles your hair. Your head bounces off the tree, and you try with all your might to free yourself out of his grip. Your limbs flail at your sides, and you crane your neck so far back, your muscles start to strain. He doesn't let go, pressing himself closer, one of his hands coming up to grip your hair. Your nails dig into his cotton shirt, as you push against his chest to no avail. 

- No - you whisper, your rejection falling flat against his unaffected stare - I'd never...

- See, but that's the best part - his sudden enthusiasm scares you deeper, than any passive stare ever could. - Unlike Sam...

You backpedal into the tree again, as he leans closer still. His cold breath mixes with your short, panicked ones, and your stomach churns, when he tilts his head in curiosity, as if he's experiencing this intimacy for the first time. And in a way, you suppose he is. Then, his eyes meet yours, gray captivates you, and you hold your breath on instinct.

- You don't have to say yes to me. 

You're not even allowed the decency of taking a gasp of air, when his lips press into yours. It feels beyond weird. He's unnaturally cold, and there is a sort of unpracticed sloppiness in the way he fights for your mouth to fit against each other. Reminding you of your first, inexperienced romances, he smashes your faces together until you feel both sets of your teeth through the flesh. Then, he pulls back just a smidgen, taking in your terrified face. Something flashes through his expression, and he sighs, leaning back towards you, stopping just short of your left ear. 

- Kiss me like you mean it, or I'll make Dean eat his intestines. 

He looks at you, just once, letting you know this is not a game. Your heart stops. 

Dean's unconscious body starts to move by the tree, and never in your life have you felt so helpless. So, when Lucifer unavoidably leans back down, you give him all you've got. Your body arches, hands come up to his hair, and you will yourself not to feel grossed out by the feeling of his cold tongue slipping past your teeth. It's a fight for survival, you remind yourself, as his hands move to your back, rubbing your skin like a horny teenager in a bathroom stall. The short supply of air you've been granted runs out quickly, and as pressure builds in your lungs, you start to push against the Archangel's chest. He doesn't register what you're doing, not at first, confusing your sudden unwillingness as some sort of late attempt at rebellion. That is, until you bang your fist against his shoulder, letting out a muffled scream. 

Finally, he detaches himself, hair even more disheveled than before. You take a heaving gasp of air, as you brace yourself against the tree, your vision swimming ever so slightly. Lucifer watches you, his body hunched over, as if he's observing some middle schooler's science project. There are new tears in your eyes, just waiting to fall. Your hair is disheveled and your lips are puffy from his unpracticed assaults. His right hand comes up to his face, and he bites on his index finger in thought. 

- You really are human - he muses to himself, and with every fiber of your being, you try to explode his head with your brain - That's no fun, you'll break so easily...

- Fuck you - your words make his eyebrows raise, and he straightens out with a flourish.

- Fuck you - he repeats, mocking your tone - Yeah, I probably will - you watch, disgusted, as he sends a wink towards Sam.

Then, he's back to his shovel, back to his mass grave, where he completes the ritual. 

You can't move, not really, even when Sam tugs on your shoulder. Your head runs empty, realization of your current predicament far from registered in your brain. You stay frozen in your spot, when Castiel arrives, taking the three of you back to Bobby's house. Only, when the Angel's hand pushes against your rib cage, only when you feel Enochian symbols burn into your bones, do you lift your gaze. Apologetic doesn't really cover the way Castiel looks at you, and the pity painted on his face drags you down more than any Devil could.  

Sam is the only one to truly understand, when you fall to the floor, shock, anger and dread spilling out of you like a broken faucet. He's the only one that truly knows how it feels to have your bodily autonomy stripped away by the literal Devil. How it feels to have a threat of such magnitude hanging over you, every day. Which is why, he's the one to lift you in his arms, and get you to the guest room, lead away by the concerned glances of the rest of the men. He's the one to make you tea, bring you fresh clothes. He opens the window when the smell of dinner makes you retch. And finally, he's the one to explain, what really happened back on that hill to the rest of the group.

From your fetal position on the bed you can hear Dean curse, throw something somewhere. All the ways he knows, how to show he cares. Despite everything, it makes you smile, face pressed to the pillow that smells like cigarette smoke and beer. You're doomed. There's nothing you can do against God's plan, and you can feel that thought take root in you like an invasive species ready to destroy every crop in it's path. Still, despite it all, a sense of security falls upon you like a decieving blanket. 

- What sort of a messed up game is this? - Dean screams somewhere in the house, you assume it's at Cass, the only one even remotely aware of your destiny. 

The idea, that God made you specifically to be Satan's personal therapist sounds far fetched at best, but given how the last couple of months have been going, you're more inclined to believe in the absolutely worst scenarios. You don't even need to hear Castiel's response. The sound of glass breaking is telling enough. Then, a door slamms somewhere, and the house falls into heavy silence.

You can't think. Can't allow yourself to fall apart more than you've had already. So, you focus on the sound of your own breathing, interlinked with your heartbeat. Steady, alive. Your eyelids are heavy, eyes burn with drying tears, so you close them and sigh. Exhaustion pinns you in place, sinking you into the blankets. Darkness welcomes you like a long lost friend.

Your boys will find a way, they always do. And Lucifer can't find you, not with the wards Castiel has put on you. You'll have to thank him i the morning, you think, and it's the last conscious thought you have, before slipping into sleep, shivering like an abandoned child. 

[spiritcc]

RATING ALL FROGWARES WATSONS BY LOOKS ONLY

the mystery of the mummy

w-

waist snatched. shoulders broad. lestrade uh *googles* is not him

3/10 *to the side* are you sure this is the right characte-

the case of the silver earring

ough.....

his sadness and internal confusion have captivated me enough to grab my forehead and suppress a sob. you cant lose it before your patient, after all...

even his head looks like he had a lobotomy why is this al-

5/10.... crying...

awakened/lupin/jack the ripper

he is done being a victim but there is just not enough polygons in his body to protect him

the neutral photoshop gray outfit is not helping his case either

6/10 slightly better than before. but cardboard-level excitement

testament of sherlock holmes/crimes and punishments

my lord if it isnt a highly esteemed gentleman right here

determination in his gaze, silver in his brow, a Thought on his face. as beautiful as the day he was born

beautiful warm lighting illuminating my man to new heights

david burke/10

the devils daughter

aH

feels like watching a man relapse. this is the bad ending

his character was genuinely nice and pleasant in the game itself, he was lovely. obviously to compensate for the cards that life has dealt him with everything else

barbershop ass. 2015/10 for the year this fashion had to die in

chapter one/awakened

i am going to hunt you like a lowland gorilla this is getting intervention worthy

he is now literally sick and requires CPS involvement

THE FUCKING TEXTURESSS THE SIN OF 14FPS DRAGON AGE INQUISITION

0/10. holmes only took him in because he resembled his literal imaginary friend named jon whom he killed fight club style. this is real.

this cant continue like this. frogwares' cheese had slipped off they damn sandwich. we need to rescue this

dai gyakuten saiban/the great ace attorney

holy shitttt shittddd holy shitttt holyyyyyyy shidddddd

japanese watson with both cultures preserved OUGHHHHHH

the gray. my god the gray.

OUGHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH

100/10 YUJIN MIKOTOBA 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

[doomhands-jr]

The Devil's Advocate - Chapter 5

Delinquent!Noah Sebastian X Pastor's Daughter!Reader

Summary: Noah is a delinquent with a lot of anger at the church. You're a pastor's daughter plagued by moral perfectionism, charged with overseeing the community service he's been sentenced to complete. You've never encountered true temptation before. How will you fare up against Noah, who not only isn't bound by the same rules of purity as you, but actively scoffs at them?

Rating: 18+ Minors DNI

Warnings: Rough sex, NoahxOFC, slight degradation, religious trauma Masterlist

Banner by @flowerynerds

______

Early November was among your least favorite times of the year. It wasn’t yet cold enough to snow, but the rain was frigid. Halloween excitement had worn off and there wasn’t much to look forward to until Christmas (Thanksgiving was fine, you supposed, but you were staying on campus while your parents were on a missions trip to Africa).

Your socks had gotten wet on the walk to the worship center. You loathed wet socks, even partially wet socks. They stuck to your toes in the most uncomfortable way, freezing them while the rest of your foot stayed dry. Any time your socks got wet, you’d hyper-focus on the sensation until they either dried out or you changed them, and since you were obligated to spend the morning overseeing community service, they were about to be all you could think about for the next four hours.

All you could think about, that is, until you happened to glance up and spy Noah slouched on a bench near the church entrance. You stopped short, double-checking the time on your phone. 7:46. It was unlike him to be early, let alone fourteen minutes early. 

He hadn’t noticed you approach, too busy staring at his lap. He fidgeted with an object in his hands—something you couldn’t see. You took a deep breath, squared your shoulders, and continued walking.

The day after Halloween, you made a pact with yourself: you would get over Noah Davis. It wasn’t because he was a bad guy or anything. You actually quite liked him and found him to be an overall positive influence.

The problem was that he was too much of an influence. You found yourself second-guessing your morals, wanting to agree with him before you’d fully thought everything through. You wanted to believe everything he said, regardless of whether or not it was true. And you knew it was partly because you wanted so badly to give into his temptation.

Not that giving into temptation was necessarily bad. But you’d grown up listening to and believing everything the men in your life had told you, simply because they were in positions of authority. That hadn’t exactly worked out in your best interests.

Were you going to let another man influence your beliefs just because it would justify chasing the things your body craved? And oh, did it crave.

That wasn’t to say Noah didn’t make a lot of very good points - you were inclined to agree with them, but you had to sort that out slowly and on your own. Without the influence of him or his body pulling you in any one direction.

On top of that, it was inappropriate of you to entertain feelings for him—you were in a supervisor role.

The full truth was that letting go of the idea of him? It hurt. Giving up something you really wanted for something you thought would be better for you in the long run was never easy. But you were determined to do it. God had something better in store for you, you were certain of it. And Noah’s body was simply a distraction—a pitfall for you to avoid. 

And who knew? Perhaps you were doing Noah a favor as well, not giving into him so easily.

The moment Noah noticed you, he stood up, straightening the legs of his jeans. You kept him in your periphery but didn’t look directly at him. Looking at him was too hard. You didn’t want him to know that though, so you did your best to be friendly. “Hey,” you said, greeting him with a friendly wave and glance, noticing your voice came out meeker than you intended.

“Hey,” he replied, and his voice carried a soft, hollow timbre that already had your heart squeezing. This was going to be more difficult than you thought.

You kept your eyes on the ground, allowing him to fall into step beside you, and headed straight for the church doors. Pulling out the key and unlocking them gave you something to focus on that wasn’t him, and for that you were grateful.

“How was your week?” he asked.

“Good. Boring,” you said, eyes scanning along the light blue carpet in front of you as you walked through the foyer. “Yours?”

“Enlightening.”

Enlightening. How were you supposed to ignore that?

“Oh?” you asked, curiosity getting the better of you. You still held firm in not looking at him, one glance at his soft smile and your resolve would crumble. You knew it.

And then, in an attempt to seem normal, you glanced. Not directly at him, but in his direction. Enough to catch the soft smile on his face and knowing kindness in his dark eyes. The way his long hair spilled out from underneath his hood.

You dug your nails into your fists as punishment and looked back down at the floor, where your feet guided you to the supply closet at the end of the hall.

“I think I owe you an apology for how I behaved on Saturday,” he said. He stopped in front of the closet and turned to face you head-on. It was getting harder to avoid direct eye contact.

He remained silent, providing you an opportunity to respond, but you couldn’t will your mouth to open and instead settled on offering a quick nod.

“I should have warned you about the crowds. And about the content for some of the music we play... And for agreeing to play that last song.”

“Noah, the whole crowd wanted it,” you reasoned, fiddling with the latch on the supply closet. “I’m just one person.”

“Just,” he interjected, holding a hand up, “let me at least apologize for the way it affected you.”

The tension in your shoulders slackened infinitesimally and you allowed your eyes to travel to his inked hands. His fingers were so long. It ached, how much you wanted to gravitate toward them, feel them caress your face, envelop his thumb in your mouth and have him drag it down your chin…

Catching yourself mid-thought, you looked away again. “I suppose I can allow that.”

He puffed out a short breath, relieved at your acceptance. “It wasn’t cool of me to let you go into that unprepared,” he continued, voice filled with genuine regret. “I wish I would have handled it better.”

You chewed on the outer corner of your lip. The sentiment felt too heavy for the moment, and you needed to end the conversation quickly. “Thank you for saying that.”

“I also want to apologize for what happened after.”      

Your stomach dropped. You’d really rather not talk about that. It wasn’t exactly your proudest moment. You’d fully embarrassed yourself with your overreaction to what happened at the party. But more than that, you’d experienced genuine temptation for the first time in your life, and had only barely made it out of there without completely walking back on all your scruples. Even talking about it meant risking being pulled back down the rabbit hole he was about to apologize for. Either way, you couldn’t help it when, in a moment of weakness, you glanced at his mouth. His smile faded and something more earnest took over his face. His lips parted a millimeter as he sucked a breath in through his teeth and you found yourself mimicking the movement without trying.

“If your beliefs surrounding…” he took another deep breath as he searched for the right word, “…physical intimacy are important to you, I want to do a better job of respecting that. From now on, I’ll be hands-off.” He raised his palms in surrender.

His words wrapped around your body like a rope, compressing, crushing your ribs, and holding you together.

Last summer, when Isaac had ended your kiss, it didn’t surprise you. In fact, it was something you had almost expected him to do. He performed Christianity like it was a Broadway show and he was the principal actor. It was almost a game to him, it seemed. How many points could he earn with God during his time on Earth? How big of a mansion would he be rewarded with in Heaven? How many virgin brides?

You smelled a hint of Isaac’s performance in Noah. But there was something else there underneath. An eagerness to respect you in the way that actually mattered. He wanted to get it right.

“Noah,” you sighed, feeling like he was perhaps taking this apology thing further than he needed to.

“I also want to give you this back,” he said, fishing out your silver ring from his back pocket and holding it out to you. “I’m sorry for removing it in the first place.”

You stared at the silver ring. The symbol of the promise you’d made when you were thirteen and had no idea how anything worked.

Now, for you, it symbolized a lie that had been spoon-fed to you. It symbolized blind obedience to the men in your life and a life you had no control over.

You deflated.

“Keep it.”

Noah’s eyebrows lifted, lips parting in surprise and confusion. “Why?”

You looked anywhere but the ring in front of you, settling on a speck of lint that dusted the shoulder of Noah’s zip-up.

“I just don’t want it anymore. It feels too constricting.”   

Huffing, he stepped forward and grabbed your left wrist, bringing it to his hand. His touch sent warmth cascading down your arm and into the rest of your body.

Slowly, delicately, he slid the ring back onto your finger. The cold metal contrasted starkly with the warmth of his palm. His hand lingered there for a moment, thumb swiping the length of your finger.

It felt oddly reminiscent of a proposal, but in reverse. With this ring, he promised to leave you alone.

Something harsh and sour coated the back of your throat and you swallowed bitterly.

“I want you to have it back anyway,” he said, voice gentle and kind as he let go of your wrist. “If you want to remove it again, that should be your choice.”

You rolled your eyes, twisting the ring back off your finger and holding it out to him in your palm. “I don’t want the responsibility of keeping this. Can you please take it?”

He stepped back from you, clasping his hands behind his back.

“Ugh,” you scoffed and tossed it in the empty mop bucket in the corner of the supply closet, willing it to disappear. You turned back to face him with your hands on your hips. “You know you’re being a little dramatic about this, right?”

Your eyes flicked back up to his face. He looked from you, to the bucket, and back, but stayed silent.

“I allowed you to take it off because I wanted you to, not because I was under some sort of spell. Plus, I should be apologizing for how I left.”

Noah closed his eyes and shook his head firmly. “No way, don’t ever feel bad for setting boundaries. I’m actually glad you left when you felt uncomfortable instead of letting me pressure you into something you didn’t want.”

You shifted your weight from foot to foot. This much respect was new for you—not just from Noah, but from any man in your life.

“I still feel bad,” you confessed, twisting your hands together in front of you.

“Please don’t,” he said, arm reaching out a few inches as if he intended to touch you, but then he thought better of it and pulled back. Your eyes chased his hand as it fell back to his side, wishing he would have followed through. “I was in the wrong, not you.”

“Why are you doing this?” you asked.

A smile played on the corner of his lips. “I suppose you could say I’m turning over a new leaf.”

Inside, you smiled at the throwback to the conversation last month. Outwardly you pouted, rocking on your heels. “I liked the old leaf.”

“Tough,” he said, grinning defiantly. “Get used to this one.”

You crossed your arms and nodded over to the supply closet. “Well, can the new leaf go grab the broom and dustpan so he can get to work?”

“At your service, Angel,” he said, sidestepping you to get into to the closet.

“Angel?” you asked. “What happened to Mary?”

“Mary’s too boring,” he called over his shoulder, digging around the various mops and cleaners. “I like Angel better.”

“Can’t you just use my real name?” you asked.

“No,” he said reemerging from the closet with two brooms and two dustpans in tow. He smiled his full Cheshire-cat grin, lips stretching wide over his too-big teeth in a way that let you know he already won whatever debate you were about to start.

You decided not to press the matter. You also preferred Angel to Mary. At least it didn’t have the virgin connotation.

You waved him off. “Whatever. Just get to work.”

Noah winked and did just that, keeping his head down and minding his business until Nick showed up, six minutes late.

“What are we doing today, boss?” he asked. You pointed over to where Noah was sweeping.

“Aye, aye!” he said with a salute and started toward Noah.

“Actually can you hang back a second?” you said in a low voice. He paused mid-step, turning on his heel and leaning in with his full attention. “I wanted to talk to you.”

He sighed, eyes dropping to the floor. “Look. I know it wasn’t cool of me to sleep with your friend, but you should know—,”

“—I was actually going to thank you,” you cut him off. Nick’s brows pulled together.

“What?” he asked, mouth parting stupidly.

You nodded, fidgeting with the sleeve of your sweater. “She told me about how nervous she was,      about how patient you were with her and how you walked her through the process, and that you insisted on making sure she was sober enough to give consent. Not all guys would do that for a girl they just met. Let alone someone whose first time it was.”

Nick blinked, then released the tension he’d been holding in his jaw, allowing his face to relax into a smile. “Of course. I’m not an asshole. Or, well at least not a complete asshole.”

You chuckled, signaling with your hand for him to join you while you meandered over to the other end of the foyer where Noah was working. “Ava can be pretty reckless at times,” you said, lowering your voice now that Noah was within earshot. “She gets in over her head. I appreciate that she had someone like you who prioritized her comfort and safety.”

“She’s not bad. You have good taste in friends.”

“Thanks,” you said, smiling fondly at the moment of shared appreciation for your friend.

“Now get to work,” you said, when the air got too thick. The last thing you needed was to allow Nick to burrow his way into your heart alongside his friend. 

The workday passed by relatively easy. There were no major philosophical conversations to be had, and no interruptions from unwelcome strangers. The two men worked diligently for the whole session, and when it was time to go, they put their own supplies away.

“Hey,” said Noah while you all made your way out. “I was thinking about something.” He slowed his steps and allowed Nick to pass the two of you.

“Yeah?” you said, matching his pace.

“You’ve seen me in my element. I thought it was only fair if I returned the favor.”

“What do you mean?” you asked.

“I want to hear you sing.” He said it softly, lisp coming out on the last word and oh. You paused mid-stride to turn to him.

 “Why?”

Noah looked at you as if you’d offended his bloodline, head rearing back in a scoff. “Because I’m curious? And I want to support you the way you supported me?”

“That’s not necessary,” you rushed to assure. The last thing you wanted was to have to perform in front of him. That was a level of vulnerability you weren’t interested in. Especially since he had such an extensive background in music and could easily judge you if you weren’t up to his standards.

“Will you let me do something nice, please?” he said, holding his arms out to the side before letting them drop back to his hips with a slap. “Isn’t the point of this entire community service thing to help me be a better person?”

He’d seen the corner he could back you into before you did. You couldn’t, in good faith, protest something like that without letting your cards show.

“I have a showcase coming up in December,” you said. “Here. At the church.”

Noah tucked his lips between his teeth and smiled in triumph.

“Are you sure you won’t burst into flames the second you step foot in a worship service?” you asked.

“Guess we’ll see,” He said, with a quick shrug of his shoulders. You continued walking down the path leading back into town.

“Isaac’s going to be there,” you said, reluctantly. “I don’t want any trouble.”

“I’ll be on my best behavior,” he assured you, making the sign of the cross over his chest and clapping his hands together in prayer. 

You sighed and shook your head. “Good. See that you are.” Without anything better to say, you followed up with “now get out of here.”

Noah huffed out a laugh at your attempt at standoffishness and jogged to catch up with Nick. Your gut twisted at the thought of him coming to watch you sing. Even more so at the idea of the regular churchgoers seeing and potentially interacting with him, but you chose to trust that this would be a good thing. That Noah would keep his word.

Noah in a church. Standing in the middle of a church-going audience. You shook your head, unable to realistically picture it, but that didn’t stop a grin from sneaking up on you whenever you thought about it. 

_______

November came and went in the same way a cloud would—slowly, and easily unnoticed unless you paid special attention.

You and Isaac continued to work together on his project. He brought up passing a collection plate around during the event so the two of you could raise money for charity, which you thought was a great idea.

“That way, we can give back a little,” he said, pinching the cross charm he wore around his neck between two of his fingers and sliding back and forth along its chain. 

“I’d love that,” you said, feeling more energized about the showcase.

You and Isaac sat across from each other at a table in a room off to the side of the main worship area, often used for small group meetings, Bible studies, and Sunday School. Song books and sheets of music littered the table, musty from years of use. You sat doodling swirls in the margins of the notebook in front of you.

“How have we been marketing the event?” he asked, flipping through pages of a hymn book. 

“I made an event page on Facebook,” you said, “and have been posting about it to the campus Facebook page. A few other local groups, too.”

“Good,” he said, nodding, but not looking up from the book in front of him.

“I’ve also been passing out flyers and posting them around campus to drum up some excitement.”

“Excellent,” said Isaac, smiling.

Surprisingly enough, working with Isaac hadn’t been as painful as you’d expected. He remained focused on planning out the logistics of the showcase, appropriately delegating tasks to you as needed, but taking on the bulk of the work himself. 

You liked this Isaac. He was at his best when he had a goal and worked diligently to achieve it. When you’d first developed an interest in him, it was when he was pursuing a leadership role on the worship team. Before then, he’d always been a scrawny, nerdy kid that existed only in the fringes of your memory. You’d seen him in church and at school but hadn’t paid much attention to him.

It wasn’t until your teen years, when he’d grown his hair out and started learning how to play guitar that you’d truly noticed. One day, he’d asked to perform a song in front of the congregation. You couldn’t even remember the song, but you remembered being transfixed by his singing.

That was the beginning of the crush you’d been nursing for over four years. It had largely dissipated, but it still peeked out every once in a while, in moments like this.

He closed the book in his hands, setting it down on the table and straightening out some of the papers in front of him. “How’s the community service going?” he asked without looking at you.

Your warm feelings for him slipped away just as quickly and easily as they had arrived.

Tension flared in your neck, pulling your shoulders up to a defensive position. Aside from that telltale sign, however, you chose to play it cool.

“It’s fine,” you said, joining him in arranging the stack of music sheets in front of you so you had something to focus on aside from him.

“You better get a move on,” he said, setting his stack of papers aside and resting his elbows on the table. He spoke directly to you. “You only have a month left before you never see them again. Not a lot of time to bring people to Christ.”

Truthfully, you’d forgotten all about that. He was right—the job had been handed to you with the specific instructions towitness to these men, but you were starting to think you no longer agreed with that cause.

“Did you talk about Hell?” he continued. “That sometimes works for me.”

You shook your head. “I don’t want to do that.”

“Why not?” he asked, brows furrowing with confusion. “You have to do something. Their souls are on the line.”

“I really don’t want to talk about this,” you snapped, shifting your chair back from the table and standing. You had some homework you should be getting to, anyway. “Can we drop it?”

“No!” he barked, standing up to be on your level. He splayed his palms on the table, leaning his weight on them and eyes boring a hole into you. Even from across the table, his height was menacing. Not as tall as Noah, but definitely tall. “That’s the whole point of you being there. You have to make sure they know what’s at stake if they keep going down the path they’re on.”

“It’s not that simple,” you said, voice raising in volume.

All this talk of eternal damnation set you on edge. You still hadn’t even figured out where you stood on the issue. How were you supposed to preach to someone who had made up their mind long ago? And who was Isaac to tell you how to talk to them when he’d only briefly encountered them once and made a fool out of himself in the process?

“What’s complicated about it? They repent or they go to Hell,” he stated with a huff, blowing his fringe bangs out of his eyes.

The pressure he was putting on you was familiar—much like the pressure your father had always put on you to “go out and make disciples” but things weren’t as black-and-white as they were when you were a child.

How were you supposed to preach something you weren’t even sure you understood or believed in? Blindly giving into the pressure to convert as many people as you could to a faith you only half-trusted felt more and more like a betrayal of yourself.

Not only that, but in your experience, people simply did not want to hear the gospel preached at them. You’d tried once—when you’d joined a local theater production of Fiddler on the Roof as a stagehand. There was one girl there who you’d made fast friends with—Stephanie.

You spent all summer trying to share the Good News with her. At the end of three long months, she agreed to accept Christ into her heart, allowing you to lead her in The Prayer. It was the defining moment of your adolescence. You’d managed to validate your existence by saving at least one soul.

It wasn’t until the wrap party later that week that you overheard her making fun of you to some of the other cast members, all huddled together in a corner of the theater, that you realized she’d gone through with it as a joke.

There was no explaining that to Isaac, however. He was so caught up in everything he’d been taught that it would take much longer than you had time to explain everything, and that was if he even listened, which he didn’t seem interested in…

…much like the people you were supposed to evangelize to.      

“I have to go,” you said, turning on your heel and walking out of the warmth of the worship center, into the frigid rain. Isaac called after you, but you broke into a jog, heading—well, somewhere.

You didn’t know where you were heading, actually. Your rain boots clunked haphazardly on the sidewalk, splashing through puddles as you ran. You contemplated going back to your dorm, but knew Stevie was home. It didn’t seem like the place to be.

You weren’t interested in any of the usual places on campus, either. The wind and rain bit at your skin, chilling you through the oversized Sherpa-lined hoodie you’d worn.

Your feet guided you to the crossroads that would lead you back to campus, and you turned in the opposite direction, running headlong toward town.

Your breaths grew uneven, whether it was due to the energy you were expending, or the crushing weight of your religious obligations.

You were supposed to lead these men to God, lest their souls be cast into Hell for eternity.

Except, did you believe in Hell anymore?

You weren’t sure. You supposed it could exist, but was it really that easy to wind up serving a permanent sentence for an impermanent crime? For simply getting the theology wrong?

That didn’t seem like something a loving god would do. And if it was, did you really want to devote your life to serving someone like that? Someone who could be so utterly cruel to his creations for making simple mistakes?

You were angry. For the first time, you felt a glimpse of the anger Noah had expressed that night. He was right to feel angry. There were so many contradictions—so much about the church that just felt backwards to you. And whenever you raised legitimate questions, you were always met with the same answer:

God works in mysterious ways. 

It was a mantra the church elders repeated, but it felt more like a cop-out. A common method of spiritual bypassing.

You wiped the rain that had been pelting your face with your sleeve, unsure of how far you’d ran when a familiar voice interrupted your thoughts.

“Whoa!”

___________

At no point in his evening did Noah anticipate running into you—figuratively, and certainly not literally. But when he spotted you bounding toward him with a panicked expression, that’s what nearly happened.

Upon further reflection, you were probably aiming to run past him, but in the moment, it looked like you were on track to collide directly into his chest.

“Whoa!” he called out. Your attention snapped from the sidewalk in front of you to his face, and in the process, your left foot miscalculated its landing. It slid out from under you, giving you a half a second to react and catch yourself on a steel signpost. It was a good thing you had quick reflexes, otherwise you’d have planted ass-first into the muddy puddles lining the street.

“Easy,” said Noah, catching you by the elbows and helping you regain your balance. He observed your soaked hoodie, the way your breaths came out staggered, and the rapid rise and fall of your chest as you caught your breath. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you exhaled, struggling to catch your breath.

Noah blinked at you, eyes narrowing in on your expression. Something was off about the way you looked around you nervously.

“You sure?” he asked again.

“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” You looked up at him, fake smile plastered on your face to better sell the lie, but eyes blown wide as if you’d been trying to outrun a predator. Noah wasn’t buying it.

“You tell me,” he said, observing your footwear.

You looked down at your rain boots and back up to him. “I wanted to go for a run?” you said. It was framed as a question. Half-acknowledging that you’d been caught, but hoping he would drop it anyway.

 “Right.” He humored you for now. He’d get to the bottom of it eventually.

“What are you doing here?” you deflected. Your breathing had begun to slow. You tucked your wet, matted hair behind your ear and looked up at him with curiosity in your eyes. The tension in his chest began to fade the more you relaxed. As if his nervous system was inextricably tied to yours.

“I was about to grab some tea,” he said, nodding towards the small hole-in-the-wall café across the street. Your eyes followed, then dropped to where he still held your elbows, and he released them. “Care to join?”

“Sure,” you said. He nodded and gestured for you to follow him before stuffing his hands in his pockets.

The two of you crossed the street, Noah taking the opportunity to glance backwards to see if he could gather any context clues and opened the door for you when he found none.

He gestured toward the counter, indicating for you to order first, and sidled up behind you, standing protectively close, just in case there was indeed a threat.

“Want to take this to go?” he asked.

“Sure,” you said, placing an order for a decaf cinnamon latte. Gross. Too sweet for his taste. “To go, please.”

Noah placed his own order for a green tea before the barista could give you your total. You looked up at him with a question on your face, and he handed his card over to pay for both orders without pause. Perhaps he could buy some of your time.

The two of you stepped to the side while you waited for your drinks to be made. Noah leaned casually against the counter, putting his height on display and moving just enough into your personal space that you’d have to take notice.

“Why were you running in the rain?” he asked. 

You looked him over, taking note of his new proximity. “Long story.”

“Do you always deflect this much?” he asked.

You smiled sheepishly. “I’ll tell you, just not right here.”

That was enough to put Noah fully at ease. Perhaps it truly was nothing and he’d just read into your body language too much.

Noah caught you glancing over his body out of the corner of his eye. He smiled to himself. He knew he was attractive. At this point, using his attractiveness to his advantage was almost second nature to him. He drummed his fingers against the counter, feeling a slight surge of energy when he saw you studying the tattoos on his hands and trying not to be obvious about it.

Noah knew he could be cocky at times. His own attractiveness became clear to him in high school, when he hit a growth spurt and got his first tattoo. He received much more attention from girls than his friends did, and it increased exponentially the older he got and the more his once-lanky body filled out. By the time he dropped out of high school, well before his sixteenth birthday, he’d lost his virginity and then some. He couldn’t remember what his body count was up to, but he’d guess it was approaching triple digits.

He tried to stay humble about it, knowing that too much attention wasn’t healthy for his ego, but he did, at times, like to indulge.

Like right now. He was aware you were looking at him. He knew he could invite you back to his studio, that you’d probably say yes, and that you were very conflicted about your attraction to him, because this might be the first time you’d wrestled with sexual attraction to someone who wasn’t bound by the same laws of purity as you.

He’d give you time to figure out what you wanted. He wouldn’t outright pressure you the way he had last time. But he also wasn’t going to stop himself from craving you, or from responding the way his body told him to when in pursuit of something he wanted.

He slid his hands across the counter, allowing his weight to drop to his elbows, and leaned towards you. He was tall enough that his face still hovered slightly over yours when he looked you in the eye. 

Many times, people were intimidated by the weight of his full attention on them. They’d step back or break eye contact to diffuse it. You, however, just looked up at him with a question on your face.

Oh, he liked that. He liked you not being intimidated by him.

“So,” he said. A segue into nothing. A great move on his part since he had nothing to say. 

“So,” you mimicked, knowing smile teasing the corner of your mouth upward. A warm, sensation rippled through Noah’s diaphragm. He didn’t smile though. He wasn’t going to break his façade so early. 

“What…,” he began. He looked out the window as if he’d find a cue card with the prompt he’d need. He didn’t. “…do you like to do? For fun?”

A clumsy introduction to a conversation. Possibly the clumsiest he’s ever made.

You licked your lips and nodded to yourself, amused by his attempt. Without his permission, his eyes darted to your lips. He chided himself and looked away, hoping you hadn’t noticed the rookie mistake.

“Angel,” yelled the barista, shaking him from his thoughts. Noah had given them his nickname for you as the name of the order. It went over the way he expected, with you rolling your eyes and begrudgingly offering him a smile. Glee spread into his cheeks and he shot a grin at you before turning to the hand-off plane. 

You grabbed your drinks, handing Noah’s to him and led the way back outside into the rain. Your lead didn’t last long—Noah’s long legs easily overtook you and he had to make a concerted effort to slow his pace so you could keep up.

“I like movies,” you said eventually.

“What?” he asked.

“For fun,” you said. “I like to watch movies.”

Oh. Right. He’d forgotten about that.

“What’s your favorite?” he asked, this question coming out much smoother than the last, and Noah felt like he was back on track. 

“Three-way tie for all of the Lord of the Rings movies.”

Noah stopped short. “Are you serious?” he asked. You nodded.

Without thinking about it, he wrapped an arm around your shoulders and gave you an overly dramatic kiss on the top of the head, not worrying for a second about how you’d react. This time, you did get shy, shrinking into yourself and making a noise of protest before he let you go.

The power was back in Noah’s possession for the time being.

“What was that for?” you asked, smoothing out your hair. In the dark street, Noah couldn’t see the flush on your cheeks, but he knew it was there.

“I love Lord of the Rings,” he said. It was true. He’d been an avid fan of the films since grade school, back when he and his friends used to pretend to be the fellowship. Tall and slender with long hair, he’d been cast as the elf of the friend group, though he’d secretly always resonated more with Aragorn.

“Which one is your favorite?” you asked, falling back into step alongside him. Even with his slower pace, you had to take long strides to keep up.

“Return of the King,” said Noah without missing a beat. “I get chills every time the beacons are lit.”

“Did you know that in The Two Towers, when Viggo kicks—,”

“—he breaks his toe,” Noah cut you off. He immediately knew where you were going with it. Everyone with even the most basic appreciation for Lord of the Rings knew. It had become a calling card among fans to know that bit of trivia, but he still took pride in finishing your sentence.

The pride within him swelled tenfold when you smiled as if you’d never been more impressed or pleased with him in your life. He couldn’t help but fall a little bit in love with you.

Which was not good, considering how much harder it would be to restrain himself around you. God, he wanted nothing more than to seduce the religion out of you. He wanted to turn his pockets inside out, use every trick in the book to get you into bed, but he would probably end up embarrassing himself if he did, because his charm didn’t seem to faze you.

He knew it wasn’t a matter of attraction. You showed all the signs of being attracted to him, yet you still had the self-control not to act on it, and that drove him wild.

Had he been wrong about you? He thought the reason you were still a virgin was because your resolve had never been tested, but he’d definitely tested it on Halloween, and you’d resisted.

Which Noah had not expected.

And though he had reacted poorly at the time (which he now found extremely embarrassing), he’s started to like that you shut him down. He’s always appreciated a bit of a chase—a smidge of hard-to-get. It made the game all the more exciting for him. 

But this was different. You weren’t playing a game. You simply existed as yourself, with no agenda he could detect. And maybe the part of him that needed someone to help tame his ego would like you to continue shutting him down, as much as it killed him.

“I play video games,” he said, breaking out of his thoughts when he noticed he’d been silent for too long. “For fun.”

“What games?” you asked, not missing a beat.

“I’ve been playing a lot of Fallout recently.”

If you told him you played Fallout, he would propose to you on the spot.

“I never got into video games,” you said, and Noah breathed a sigh of relief, because he didn’t need to be any more whipped for you. “Where are we going, by the way?”    

“Oh,” he said, halting his steps. “Um, I was thinking of going back to the studio, if you were okay with that.” Nerves in his sides and in his throat tingled uncomfortably. You hesitated, and Noah wondered if the memory of what happened last time dwelled in the back of your mind, like it did his.

“Yeah, that’s fine,” you said after a beat, and picked up your pace once again. Noah exhaled softly, nerves soothed for the time being, and followed. 

That was another thing: whenever he was with you, his nervous system oscillated wildly between feeling completely relaxed and supremely on-edge. The constant spikes in his adrenaline translated into excess energy that built up beneath his skin and all he wanted to do was sigh it into your mouth.

The three-block walk back to the studio was over all too soon. When the two of you arrived, Noah unlocked it like he had last time, and like last time, you sat in the same position on the couch.

Noah decided sit on the other end of the couch, rather than his usual desk chair. He faced you, legs crossed underneath him. 

You turned to mirror his pose.

“So,” he said, this time knowing what he wanted to ask. “Nice night for a jog, huh?”

“Yeah,” you said, clearing your throat and retreating further into your hoodie. 

“Not the best shoes for running, I have to say.” He nodded over to the rainboots that rested by the door in a small puddle.

You chuckled nervously, then worried at your lip. “I needed some air,” you said.

“Why?”

You bounced your knee up and down, collecting your thoughts. There was obviously something eating at you, and it concerned Noah that you were struggling so much to talk about it.

He relaxed his gaze, trying his best to train his face into a neutral, open expression.

“Okay,” you prefaced, exhaling a deep breath and twisting the cuff of your oversized sleeve in your hands. You looked anywhere but him. “So I have been questioning a lot about my faith recently. You know this.”

Noah nodded, stomach rolling with pride and with something slightly sicker and more selfish, knowing he’d been a catalyst of sorts for your questioning. He fought it back down, not allowing his feelings to distract him from listening to you.

“Yeah,” you nodded back at him, pulling your sleeves over your hands and bunching the ends up in your fists. Noah liked you this way. Cozy. Vulnerable. “And some people in the church are starting to notice.”

“Ah,” he said, understanding dawning on him. It was hard to ignore the changes in your behavior and demeanor. You’d become more confident over the last few weeks, less eager to please and more willing to stand up for yourself. He wasn’t surprised the church had caught onto it. The same thing had happened to him when he started deconstructing his beliefs—they saw it as a threat.

“When did you stop believing in Hell?” you asked, shifting the subject slightly.

“Oh,” he said again, feeling rather like a broken record.

You looked up at him, eyes growing wet with tears that threatened to spill over, and Noah began to see just how important this conversation was for you.

You waited patiently while he gathered his thoughts. His thumb traced along a seam in the leg of his jeans, grounding him while he tried to recall long-repressed memories.

“I don’t think there was any one significant moment.” He finally spoke, pausing to sip at his tea, savoring its bitterness. “It was more like I slowly came to understand that it was bullshit.”

“What made you realize?” you asked. Now it was Noah’s turn to carry the weight of your full attention. You hung on his every word, eyes trained on him as if you were looking into his soul and it made it difficult to focus. The collar of his shirt was suddenly too constricting. The room had grown warm. The knot of hair at the nape of his neck was tied too tight.

“My grandparents,” he began, clearing his throat. “They overused the threat of it. So did the church leaders. It started to feel empty after a while.”

You nodded, eager for him to continue speaking. “How long did it take to stop believing once you noticed?”

“Longer than it should have,” he confessed, heaving out a breath. “But in my defense, the stakes were pretty high. Had to figure out if I was willing to wager an eternity of torture on it.” 

You hummed in thought, attention finally lifting off him and drifting to the space between the two of you.

“Noah, I think I’m…,” you began, but didn’t finish the rest of your sentence. He caught the hitch in your breath. The slight shudder in your shoulders.

He was pulled to you, as if there were a thread tugging at him. He needed reach out and touch you, so he did, placing his hand on your knee and rubbing his thumb back and forth. Something in his bones told him to stay quiet and let you figure this out. 

You took a deep breath to steady yourself.

“I’ve never struggled with my faith before,” you began, and Noah nodded to show he was listening. “But now, it’s like I don’t know what to believe. I used to feel so sure. And some things I still feel sure about, but everything around it is like…crumbling.”

Noah watched you deliberately, hoping you felt you had his full attention, save for his right hand, which twirled a frayed thread from a rip in the knee of your jeans. To his surprise and delight, you inched closer to him. He made sure not to let it show. He needed his body language to match your tone—to be open and receptive. To be what you need. 

“I feel like I was lied to,” you continued, voice breaking. “For my whole life, I was told that I had to act a certain way and believe in certain things. Things that I’ve struggled with for a long time. But I still did because I was afraid of ending up in Hell.”

You paused to sniffle. “And now I’m starting to think that it might not all be true, but I’m scared to think that, because what if it is true? And I do go to Hell? I just feel like…like the ground is being washed out from under me.”

Noah’s tongue prodded the inside of his cheek as your voice became watery. You were so close to a breakthrough. He didn’t want to say or do anything that would interrupt it, but he also wanted to cheer you on. 

“I don’t want to become angry and bitter,” you confessed. “But I am angry. And I don’t know at who or what.”

“Are you afraid of being angry?” he asked, hoping it was the right question. This was toeing the edge of his jurisdiction.

“Kind of,” you said. “But it’s more than that. I’m afraid to start questioning, because I’m afraid I’ll abandon my faith altogether. Noah, I don’t know who I am without my faith.”

“Do you want to figure that out?”

You looked up at him, eyes glassy, threatening to spill over.

“Yeah,” you whispered.

Noah could kiss you. He wanted to kiss you, wanted to hold you by your jaw, make you breathe all your worries into his mouth so he could digest them and free you from the confines of your crushing guilt. Whatever suffocating remains you couldn’t exhale, he would swallow whole.

He yearned to crush his body against yours, to card his fingers through your hair and tug at the root, to hear your soft whimpers as he licked along the soft spots of your neck. He wanted the pressure of your thighs wrapped around his hips as he slid home over and over again.

Noah wanted you to take your anger out on him. Wanted you to sink your teeth into his throat, claw your nails down his back, to spit out your unfiltered rage. He wanted you to slap him hard across the face for having the audacity to dream of doing such lewd things to you. 

He didn’t do any of those things, but he did take both your hands in his.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “Can I ask you something?”

“Yeah.”

“Do you still believe in God?”

You sniffed and nodded. “I think so.”

“Okay. What do you think he would say if he saw you like this right now? If he loves you like he says he does. Do you think he’d be disappointed?”

You sniffed again, blinking back your tears and shook your head.

“How would he feel?”

“I think,” you began. Noah could practically see the cogs turning in your yead. He willed—almost prayed for—you to come to the right conclusion: one that didn’t end in self-hatred or shame.

“I think…he’d be proud of me,” you said.

Noah squeezed your hands in encouragement, manifesting a breakthrough for you. “Why would he be proud?”

“For having the courage to ask these questions.”

Noah’s dick was known to twitch at odd times. But this, by far, was the weirdest.

“To me,” he said, trying his best to ignore the feeling in his dick and focus on the task at hand, “it seems like you’re notabandoning your faith. You’re realizing that it’s so important that you’re willing to risk going to Hell to make sure you get it right.”

A strangled sob escaped from you and you dove into him, wrapping your arms around his middle and burying your head into his chest.

Noah couldn’t breathe, and not because you held him in a vise grip. He draped his arms across your back, placing a gentle kiss on the top of your head and praying to God for the first time since he was fifteen that he wouldn’t get a boner.

“I’m sorry,” you whimpered into his chest. “I feel like I’m always crying these days.”

“It’s fine,” he said. You smelled like rain and vanilla and something floral he couldn’t place. He tried his hardest to touch you as lightly as possible because if he gave into even the most innocent of his desires, his hands would be wrapped around your throat and he’d be burying himself in you.

You adjusted, crying into his shoulder now, and he could feel your hot breath steaming across his neck. Yes, he knew you were crying and that wasn’t exactly the sexiest thing in the world (at least in this context), but it took every ounce of self-control he had to not put you through the couch. You were half in his lap. Despite his prayers, he was semi-hard, and if you shifted your weight even an inch, you’d be able to feel.

When your sobs finally slowed and your breathing went back to normal, Noah continued to stroke your back with his palm.

Having you in his arms was like flirting with the devil. A serpent, offering him a bite of fruit he knew was forbidden, lest he be cast out of Eden, but the sight and scent and touch of which proving to be far too sweet to resist.

All too soon though, you were self-aware again, recognizing what you were doing and where you were. You pulled back to look at the tear-stained mess you left and had the loss of your touch not been excruciating, Noah would have been grateful because his self-control was just about spent. 

“Gross,” he said, pulling the fabric of his shirt out and away from his skin. You had snotted on it. 

“Sorry,” you said, laughing and getting up to find a tissue, and Noah was looking at your ass. No other thought ran through his head besides the stern acknowledgement that he was looking at your ass and nothing on this earth would stop him from looking at your ass until you turned back around.

“Feel better?” he asked, eyes flicking up to meet yours. 

You nodded, face all red and splotchy.

“I should go,” you said, and his heart twisted and wrenched away from his ribs, but he agreed because he needed to put his cock in somethingimmediately or he was literally going to die.

“Call me if you need anything,” he said.

“I don’t have your number.”

Noah reached into his back pocket and pulled out his phone, opening a new contact page and handing it to you. Your fingers brushed over his when you took it and he wondered if it was on purpose.

You tapped the screen a few times and handed it back to him. He opened a new text, typed his name, and pressed send. A few seconds later, your phone pinged.

His heart untwisted a millimeter. He had a tether to you now.

“Thanks,” you said. “For everything.” You stumbled back into your rain boots and walked over to where he was still sat on the couch (he couldn’t stand up without giving himself away by that point), and touched your lips briefly to his cheek bone. His skin burned under the touch and he didn’t even have a chance to respond before you were across the room and out the door.

Noah tipped sideways off the couch and rolled onto the floor, sprawled across the narrow passage between couch and desk.

He took a deep breath, feeling like his heart was about to beat out of his chest, then rolled onto his stomach and did twenty push-ups in a row.

His dick was burning a hole through his jeans and if he didn’t do something immediately, he was going to bash his head into the floor.

He pulled out his phone, with one number in mind.

Noah 9:37 PM: ?

Madison 9:37 PM: ;)

Noah 9:38 PM: 5?

Madison 9:38 PM: ✔️ _________

Noah just about ran the few blocks to Madison’s apartment. He walked in unceremoniously, ignoring her roommates, and took the stairs two at a time all the way up to her room.

She was there, sitting on her bed with a hungry smile twisting on her lips. She wore a sports bra and the shortest shorts Noah’s ever seen, but he barely looked at them.

He kneeled in front of her, grasping her shoulders in his hands.

“What’s your safe word?”

“Candyland.”

Noah nodded.

“That’s the only word you’re allowed to say,” he commanded. Giggling, she fell back on the bed, opening her legs wide for Noah to wedge himself between.

Noah closed his eyes, focusing on breathing in and out through his nose and his hands found the flimsy fabric of Madison’s sports bra. She gave a yelp when he just about ripped it off her, flinging it across the room. He turned his focus to her shorts to do the same.

Once she was rid of her clothes, he ran a finger between her hairless folds to find she was already wet. Madison was always reliably wet.

Even so, he stuck two of his fingers in his mouth, collecting saliva before he plunged them into her, moving them up and down, scissoring them the way he knew she liked. It wasn’t long before she expanded enough to accommodate him.

Fumbling while removing his own clothes, he wasted no time taking his heavy cock out and stroking it. He reached into the familiar top drawer of her nightstand, producing a condom and rolling it onto himself. He cradled his throbbing cock and lined it up with her entrance, glancing up at her to check in, and she nodded.

Noah didn’t go slow. He pushed into her all the way as deep as he could go with a snap of his hips, and once he was fully sheathed, he finally he felt like he could breathe.

He groaned low as he began to thrust inside her. She moaned loudly, draping her arms around him, and the second he registered her touch, he grabbed her arms and pinned them above her head. With one hand, he held them there, while the other crushed her jaw between his fingers.

“I need you to listen to me,” he growled, looking her directly in the eye. “Do not move. Do not make a fucking sound. Any other night you can do what you want but tonight, if we do this, you are a fuck doll. Got it?”

She bit her swollen lower lip and nodded eagerly.

“Open,” he said.

She opened her mouth for him and he spat into it.

“Swallow,” he hissed. 

She closed her mouth around his saliva and swallowed it obediently.

“Good. Now hold still.”

She preened, eyes rolling back into her head and lips dropping open.

Noah relaxed, finally feeling in control for the first time that evening since running into you. He folded Madison’s legs up over her, found purchase on the backs of her thighs, and began his descent into his lowest and most carnal self.

Madison, to her credit, didn’t make a sound. She didn’t move. She braced herself against her headboard and held her position like a dutiful fuck doll.

Noah didn’t make a habit of treating women like objects, and he didn’t like that he was doing it right then. In many ways, he was disgusted with himself, but tried his best to get over it, telling himself the ends justified the means.

He threw his head back and breathed deep, the heavy musty smell of sex permeating through the air, but Noah didn’t care much about that. He pistoned his hips into her, squeezing his eyes shut tight, wishing he was anywhere and anyone else but the depraved man he knew himself to be.

Wanting to feel at least a little better about what he was doing, he took a thumb and rubbed quick circles into Madison’s clit to reward her for letting him use her body like this.

She whimpered. He didn’t care enough to tell her to shut up again. Any sounds from her were just white noise.

God, Noah hated himself. Hated how absolutely weak he was, submitting to his body without even trying to put up a fight.

He never stood a chance, though. How did you do it?

He sighed and picked up his pace, reveling in the tight warmth of cunt.

Had your roles been reversed the other week? Had it been you on your knees in front of him, practically begging him to give himself over to you, he would have done it without question. Had you given him any hint of desire—had you given him even an inch, he would have taken the whole fucking mile and he would have doubled back just to do it again. What made you so much more capable of resisting? 

Madison pulsed around him, and when something splashed against his abdomen with each thrust, he realized Madison had released onto him. She did that sometimes. Whatever. He was used to it. He kept going.

He thought of you masturbating. He thought of you thinking of him while you touched yourself, your fingers slipping beneath the waistband of your white panties, whining his name while you made a mess of your bedsheets. He thought of you thinking of him tying you down and forcing you, and he could almost cry, he was so hard.

He tried not to think about the fact that he was fucking someone. He wasn’t really. He was using a body to masturbate because he knew it would give him a bigger release than he could get with just his hand.

And fuck, did he need release. He needed control. He needed to defile something beautiful and make it as ugly as he was inside.

Recognizing he wasn’t going to get what he needed in this position, he pulled out, flipped the girl over easily, and pushed back into her with a hard smack to the soft flesh of her ass.

She yelped, but made no other sound, and that was enough for him.

He thought of you coming undone beneath him. Of you weeping with the release of years of pent-up sexual energy. Of your makeup smearing down your face as you cried his name out to the heavens like a prayer for salvation.

He fucked Madison at a punishing pace. She arched her back and whipped her hair around to look over her shoulder at him, and as soon as he noticed, he stared at a random spot about two-thirds of the way up her wall.

Madison gave a choked, strangled sort of sob before everything grew more wet and her pussy began to flutter around him.

Noah would have to finish soon. Madison always got overstimulated if she was forced to keep going.

He gave a low, guttural growl and picked up his pace, needing to get as much energy out of himself as fast as he possibly could. The headboard slammed into the wall over and over, the bed creaked beneath him. Madison was a sobbing, sputtering mess as she tried desperately to keep still and silent for him.

“Just a little more,” he muttered angrily under his breath, picturing you on the brink of orgasm, body tensed up as you began to tip over the edge. “Come on.”

He dug his hands into Madison’s hips, slamming his body into hers and using his full strength to get as deep into her as he possibly could.

His lower abdomen tightened and his balls pulled up with the tell-tale sign of impending climax. He wrenched himself away from her, ripped off the condom, and gave himself a few quick strokes before he spilled himself onto her trembling body. Then he collapsed onto the bed, half on top of her, and curled himself around one of her pillows.

“I’m sorry,” he said, emotions washing over him like a tidal wave. “I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Madison said, cradling his trembling body into hers. “Noah, that was amazing. Don’t be sorry.”

Noah shook his head, throat closing in as he struggled to breathe. “I have to go.”

“What? Noah, don’t be ridiculous. It’s late. Just stay.” She said—his cum dripping down her shoulder and back as she sat up to look at him.

But Noah was already up, scrambling to pull up his jeans and find the shirt he’d thrown somewhere in his lust.

He all but ran out of the room, down the stairs, and out the front door. He ran the several blocks it took to get to his house. He slowed down momentarily as he entered through the front door and past the main living space, but it was only to fend off questions from his roommates.

Once in the safety of his room, he collapsed to the floor, crawled to his bed, and knelt.

“I…,” he began, whispering into his clasped palms. And then he blanked. Because he didn’t know who he was praying to, or what for. All he knew was that he was praying.

“I’m sorry,” he eventually settled on. And that’s all he could find to say for the moment. It wasn’t enough. Taglist: @reyadawn @sundamariis @noahsebastions @cyber-tiny @livingdeceasedgirl @just-randomm-stuff @xxkittenkissesxx @treacheryinblue @flowerynerds @1toreyouapart @badomensls @rain-down-on-me @poisongirl616 Let me know if I missed anyone!

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[jazjelspen]

jazjel’s masterlist

everything written by jazjel and their pen so far!

about the author

[P.S!!!! If there’s a series that you want to keep in touch with and know when each part comes out, please let me know in messages or in the comments that you want to be tagged!

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CHAPTER 1: Twisted Wonderland

CHAPTER 2: Spider-verse (ATSV)

CHAPTER 3: Hazbin Hotel

CHAPTER 4: PERSONA 5: Royal

CHAPTER 5: CREEPYPASTA (pending…)

——————————————————

bonus: original works/ocs

artwall: personal drawings!

———————————————————

[CHAPTER 1]

Twisted Wonderland

“we’ll show you a real happy ending.”

-Heartslabyul(none yet)

-Savannaclaw(none yet)

-Octovinelle(none yet)

-Scarabia(none yet)

-Pomefiore(none yet)

-Ignihyde

and so they lived happily ever after(idia)

-Diasomnia

breaking up with the prince of briar valley(malleus)

the world we knew(malleus)

————————————-

series/various

leaving on wild charted waters (story/various) (songs recommended to listen for this series: White Tea - Rozie Ramati, Ex-Girlfriend - No Doubt)

-part 1

-part 2

-part 3

-part 4

-part 5

-part 6

-part 7

-…….

-…….

-…….

the domestic life (various)

-part 1

-part 2

——————————————-

[CHAPTER 2]

SPIDER-VERSE

“anyone can be under the mask.”

-miles morales(not yet)

-gwen stacey(not yet)

-hobie brown(not yet)

-pavitr prabhakar(not yet)

-miguel o’hara

amor eterno (daughter reader/series)

amor eterno [parte 2](daughter reader/series)

—————————————————

[CHAPTER 3]

HAZBIN HOTEL

“now that’s the spirit! you’re in hell you delinquent fuck!”

-charlie morningstar(not yet) -vaggie(not yet) -angel dust(not yet) -husk(not yet) -nifty(not yet)(will mostly be platonic) -alastor when memories snow (x overlord reader)

devil’s spawn (angel alastor/radio demon daughter reader platonic) -sir pentious(not yet) -vox(not yet) -lucifer morningstar(not yet)

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series/various

my angel baby

-part 1

-part 2

-part 3

-part 4

-part 5

-part 6

……

……

……

scarlet and silver lining(story)

-epilogue

-part 1

-…

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original works/ocs

twst oc: Evan Bleu: a normal day for the blue fairy

PERSONA 5: Royal

“show me your true form!”

-akira kurusu (not yet)

-ryuji sakamoto (not yet)

-ann takamaki (not yet)

-yusuke kitagawa (not yet)

-makoto niijima (not yet)

-futaba sakura (not yet)

-haru okumura (not yet)

-sumire kasumi yoshizawa (not yet)

-goro akechi

why would he trust you? (x reader)

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artwall

my angel baby: author’s interpretation

my angel baby: school drabbles

[crimeronan]

princess luz fics ranked by how choice the hunter & luz cuddling is:

because in the car i started thinking "wait, is there a single fic where i HAVEN'T found an excuse for them to hug??" and then started laughing. here are the results!

why did love put a gun in my hand

this one's the main plotty one and also the best snuggly one, on account of there being a 10k chapter that's literally just hunter and luz in bed together. snuggling. and arguing with each other. also several snuggling moments prior to that, except they inevitably turn into fights 😔

2. strong enough to stand protecting both your heart and mine

camila fic! she gets to the isles just in time to witness her daughter's case of Holy Shit PTSD. luz has Scary Dog Privilege and hunter is also being her service dog. best of both worlds. he wants to kill for her and also holds her through an emotional meltdown to end all meltdowns. A+

3. the fragile facade you show to me

amity POV of hunter finding out belos is dead! features an extremely choice scene where hunter hugs luz with all the "I Fucking Thought You Were Dead" fervor in the world & amity is like um. this feels indecent to watch. i can't even look at you two anymore

4. pulling up the nails that hold up everything you've known

eda meets luz! hunter is absent for most of this one because eda decides she doesn't like him. however he comes in clutch when luz has a panic attack & eda is like oh. huh. maybe you aren't the devil. face touching as allyship forever

5. i've never let a damn thing get to me (this time it's personal)

this one's a shorter version of the plotty fic, which i wrote first & then had to expand upon bc i had brainworms. the snuggling is short because of this but hunter does hold luz while she cries into his chest. kiddos

6. some synergy had fallen in place

you'd THINK this fic wouldn't have hunter and luz snuggling in it, because luz isn't actually present. this is the only fic luz isn't in. because it's amity POV and about her changing relationship with hunter. however i actually did manage to get some snuggling in there through amity thinking about what it's like to sleep in the same space as hunter & luz. it's like. nauseatingly tender. waow

7. i'm saying agony is not your prayer

0/10. absolute shitshow. no cuddles here to speak of. all we get is a nasty dead-ass corpse hunter haunting luz's mindscape. and she doesn't want to cuddle him for some weird reason. sad! 😔

....that's it for stuff that's published right now. thank u for joining me on this journey.

[iamnot-crazy]

Stowaway Chapter 1

Trafalgar Law x Fem!Reader

Info: This is my first time posting a story on Tumblr and my first time writing a x reader.

Summary:

The reader is a slave to a nobleman due to her devil's fruit ability which allows her to control the emotions of the people around her. She flees to bump into Trafalgar Law and boards his ship.

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6 Chapter 7 Chapter 8 Chapter 9 Chapter 10 Chapter 11

Context:

*Reader is a devil fruit user of the feel-feel fruit. This fruit allows the user to control the chemical balance inside of someone's brain to control their emotions. But it isn't easy to control and starts off as when she touches someone she shares her emotion with them. She starts wearing gloves laced with sea prism to avoid transferring her emotions to everyone she touches. later on, she will learn how to control which emotion she is transferring to someone without having to feel that current emotion. In the rare case of her being extremely upset, she can send out a cloud of emotions that can give a particular emotion to a large group of people but using that ability takes a lot out of her. 

*Reader found the fruit when she was 5 and playing in the forest with some friends. Her mother was very supportive and tried helping her control her new ability and when she couldn't she saved up to get her the gloves laced with sea prism so she could play with her friends again. Her mother died when she was 10 and her father remarried when she was 12. Her stepmother had spent all her father's and mother's money on clothes and jewelry leaving her father overworked and unable to provide for his hungry daughter. When the reader turned 14 her stepmother took her to Sabaody for a fun vacation with just the two of them. Her stepmother brought her to the auction house where the reader would be sold for a large amount for her devil fruit ability.

*The reader for the next 10 years would be a slave to a world noble, she would follow him around changing to help him feel relaxed or to force the other slaves to feel particular ways for him. She was treated better than the other slaves because of her ability and her master would rarely let her out of his sight as he constantly bragged about the perfect slave he found. 

*One day the reader was able to slip past her master and the guards and make her way to the harbor.  It took three days to make it to the harbor unseen. You couldn't risk getting caught and sent back knowing the punishment for escaping would be worse than dying of starvation.

Chapter 1

At the harbor, Trafalgar Law and the heart pirates were docked collecting supplies.  You were looking for a boat to stow away on and were ducking behind the supply crates and stealing the occasional fruit or two to munch on. You were hiding behind a stack of crates trying to pry open the one that said "APPLES" when someone sat on top of the crate closing your opening. You hissed and pulled your hand away and looked angrily at the man who looked at you questionly. "Is there a reason you are trying to steal my crew's provisions?" He asked.

"I just wanted an apple." You admitted looking away from the man. The man nodded and muttered some words before an Apple appeared in his hand which he stretched out to you which you greedily took. 

"What are you hiding from?" He asked as you devoured the apple. As you were about to answer your master's guards came down from the mansion and started shouting at people if they had seen a girl matching your description and showing your image. The man nodded in understanding, "So what did you do to piss off the noble?" 

You finished the apple leaving only the stem, "I stole something... But it didn't belong to him and he had no right to take it."  You stated as the Man brought another apple to his hand to pass to you. You took it happily not knowing why you trust this man so much, "I just need to find a boat to stow away on but I haven't eaten in 3 days and your crate of apples looked so good." He examined you seeing your beaten-up features, shaky eyes, and deathly skinny figure. 

The man sighed standing up, "You can board my ship and we can drop you off at the next island." Your eyes light up and you almost jump up in excitement but when your eyes landed on the guards you ducked behind the crates again. "But your trip will not be free you will assist my crew with their daily chorus." You nodded as he handed you another apple and you finished the second one he gave you. He looked over at the guards who were making their way closer to your location. "I'm going to transport you to my medical room on my ship don't be alarmed and stay there until I come and get you." He states before making a quick movement with his hand and you are teleported into a white room with shelves filled with books and medical supplies. 

You couldn't help but peek out the window to see the guards now approaching the man who just assisted you they exchanged words before the guards left and the man turned on his heels and began boarding his ship and exchanged words with a large polar bear in a jumpsuit. That is when it hit you that the man that you were speaking to was none other than Trafalgar Law. Seeing him speak with the large polar bear man that the captain of the Heart Pirates is often seen with and the large sword he carries around is what tipped you off. He was a pirate and you are aboard a Pirate ship.

Your thoughts began to swim on one hand he was kind to you and gave you apples and helped you escape your prison on the other hand he was a famous pirate with a bounty of 200,000,000 berries. You crouch down and hold your head in panic. The door slammed open and the captain of the ship walked in. He paused when he didn't see you sitting on the medical table that he transported you to and his eyes darted around the room till he saw you shaking in the corner of the room. He sighs and continues to walk into the room closing the door behind him, "I guess you realized who I am?" He asked as he walked towards the sink to wash his hands and pour you a glass of water, "I am not going to hurt you." He assured turning around and sitting on the rolling stool that was placed near the medical table. He rolled his way over to you and handed you the glass of water. You looked up to see his inked hands holding the glass and followed up to his eyes that despite having the largest dark circles beneath them looked kind and trusting. 

You took the glass of water and finished it in one gulp. Satisfied with you drinking the water he turned around and rolled his way back to the medical table. "Now if you don't mind I would like to conduct an examination." He gestured over to the table which you slowly walked over to and jumped up onto. You handed him the empty cup and he nodded before turning around to fill your glass up and grabbing his medical tools. 

"You are Trafalgar Law, Captain of the Heart Pirates?" You asked as he handed you the now full glass of water.

"Yes." He responded bluntly before gently pulling up your sleeve and placing a weird tool around your arm. The tool inflated causing a pinch in your arm as he listened closely to your heart rate. 

"Why did you help me?" You asked as he took the tool off your arm and wrote down something on his notepad. 

He looked up at you and you looked into his yellow eyes before he shrugged and spun around gathering another tool. "I don't know." He admitted before turning back and sticking his new tool into your ear looking closely before sliding over to your other ear, "What did you steal from that noble?" He asked as he wrote down something new in his notes. 

"It was something that belonged to my mother." You partially lied which the captain picked up on but chose not to pry. He gestured for you to open your mouth so he could look into it with his tool. 

He turned to his desk and wrote down some final notes before returning with a cup with two pills in it and another glass of water. "You have a very severe case of dehydration and a forming bacterial infection. take these and tomorrow I'll give you two more and you should start feeling better in 3 days." He stated as you took the pills and water with confusion you were so worried about getting caught that you didn't even notice how fatigued you felt which he seemed to notice just from looking at you. 

Unsure of what to say you looked up at him who returned to his notes and was removing his gloves, "thank you" You spoke softly not sure if he could even hear you. 

"You can stay in here for those 3 days there is a hammock that can be pulled out from the ceiling that you can rest in. I'll have my first mate bring you provisions tonight and I'll come by tomorrow morning." He got up and pulled the hammock down from the ceiling and pulled out some blankets and pillows from the closet. 

"You said earlier that I would need to assist with daily chores?" You questioned as he made the hammock comfy for you.

"You will but after you recover. We are going to set sail tomorrow morning and it's going to be a 10-day trip until we reach the next island. Once you recover I'll introduce you to the crew and give you a list of daily tasks." Tears began to fill your eyes you have no idea how you became so lucky to have found someone like him to help free you. 

Law turned around and made his way to the door but paused, "What is your name?"

You paused at that question you haven't heard your name out loud ever since you were bought by your master who just referred to you as slave. "It's... Y/N" You smiled saying your name out loud for the first time in 10 years. 

Law nodded, "Y/n." He said before closing the door. With the door closed you finally let the tears fall from your eyes and a smile covered your face, You were free.

***

Over the next three days, Law kept his promise of arriving in the morning to provide medication and to conduct a check-up to ensure you were recovering. Law would keep his visits brief conducting his check-up asking you if you are feeling better then leave. Bepo would become your number one company as he would visit you with food twice a day. You would ask Bepo questions about his captain and why he was being so kind to you and he would tell you it is because Law is a softy and can't turn away a patient. For the most part, you spent your time sleeping and recovering. Bepo borrowed a uniform from a crewmate named Ikkaku and showed you the shower room when no one was around so you could shower in private. While you showered you looked at the red tattoo that sat on your hip indicating your ownership and you whinced at the memory.

On the third day, you were itching to get out of the medical room. You folded up the blankets and attempted to put the hammock up but it was too high up for you. You then waited patiently on the medical table for the doctor to arrive and clear you to leave the room. 

When Law entered the room he looked exhausted rubbing his eyes. He jumped back a little when you cheerfully wished him a good morning and was sitting on the table kicking your feet. He laughed slightly before walking over to the sink, "I see you are feeling better." He commented as he washed his hands and began his routine.  

"I'm ready to get out of this room." You admit as he began his examination while you followed the movements without him needing to ask. 

He nodded and wrote down a few notes, "You still seem to have some lingering effects from the infection but you seem in good health now but don't take things too hard. Bepo has arranged a bed in the bunks for you to stay in until we arrive at the next island and I have given him a list of tasks you can do together." 

You nodded rolling your sleeve back down as he got up and led the way out of the medical room. You walk down the metal halls both scared and excited, if the rest of the crew is as kind as Bepo and Law then you know the next few days will be easy if they aren't then you fear that the next few days will be hell. 

The two of you walk into a cafeteria of sorts and around 20 crew members where eating their morning breakfast. All eyes darted to the captain when he entered the room followed by you and he instantly had their full attention. "Listen up, this is y/n they will be staying with us for the next few days until we land on the next island. I expect you to treat her well." He then walked out of the room leaving you with the crew looking up at you and you began to panic giving a quick wave. Everyone then turned back to their food and their conversations and you sighed in relief.

You sat next to Bepo who brought you into their conversation. He then showed you where you would be bunking which was the bed directly above his, and then the two of you got to work mopping the floors and cleaning the bathroom neither were hand tasks as the crew keeps everything clean for the most part. 

Over the next couple of days, you completed cleaning tasks around the ship and began to become closer to the crew. Ikkaku was the most excited about your visit as she was no longer the only girl on the ship Penguin and Shachi were much harder to befriend but it turned out they just wanted to haze you with a prank before becoming friendly towards you. You would take showers at night while everyone slept so that you could keep your mark hidden. Law being the insomniac that he is would be the only one who notices you sneak away to the showers each night as you pass his office.

When the tenth day arrived you were surprised to find yourself upset that you would be leaving but you were even more surprised to find Ikkaku, Bepo, Penguin, and Shachi standing in Law's office begging for them to "Keep" you as if you were a pet they didn't want to set free. Law kicked them out of his office stating that the decision is up to you not him. The four then pouted outside of the office when they spotted you on your way to Law's office to give him your thanks but you quickly turned around as the four started to run after you begging for you to stay. 

Before you could say anything to the group the ship began shaking. You fell to the wall to brace yourself while everyone around you pushed off the walls to head to the deck to find what was wrong including Law who jumped out of his office dashing down the hall. Once you recovered and got back to your feet you also began to run down the hall following the crew. You ran up onto the deck almost falling to the floor when the ship took another hit causing it to shake again but you held steady on the door frame. The ship was docked on a beach near a town and right out front was a line of Marines who were shooting at the ship and had a large cannon that was aimed at the ship. 

Law stood at the top of the deck using his powers to deflect the bullets while the crew got ready to jump off the ship and attack. You approached Law at the front of the ship who immediately shouted at you to get back but you ignored him as you removed your gloves. You reached your arms out and your eyes began to glow white and a cloud of mist floated out of your hand and towards the Marines who started to fall one by one as they inhaled the mist.

Law's eyes went wide as he watched you easily take out 50 Marines. When the last Marine fell your eyes fluttered back to normal and you began to fall. Law quickly caught you before you reached the ground and lifted you into his arms. You panted into his chest feeling dizzy and tired after using so much of your power.

The crew members jumped off the ship to investigate the fallen Marines and shouted out to their Captain that they had fallen asleep. Law stared down at you in amazement before ordering the crew to prepare to set sail before the Marines woke up. The crew followed their orders and the ship began to move away from the beach but not yet going underwater as Law and you sat on the deck to prevent any decrease in recovery that might be caused by going underwater.

After a few minutes, you finally caught your breath and Law gave you no time to begin asking you questions. "What was that?" he asked curiously as you sat up.

"The Feel Feel fruit. I can make people feel anything just by touching them." You showed your gloveless hand that had 5 dots on your fingers that glowed and shifted colors based on the emotion you were transferring. "I recently learned how to create the emotion mist but it takes a lot out of me." 

Law grabbed your hand curiously and examined it, "How does it work?" He asked.

"At first all I had to do was feel an emotion and touch someone then I learned how to control which emotion was being transferred and my hand changes colors based on that emotion will be transferred. For instance, if I feel sad it will turn black, if I am feeling happy and social it will be Blue, for calm it is grey."

"Like a mood ring?" He asked as he watched the lights shift colors. "What does Gold mean?" He questioned as your hand shifted to gold and stayed there.

"It means a large range of emotions too much for it to pick up on?" You reply but are surprised to watch him place all five of his fingers on top of the glowing dots. His eyes widen as he begins to feel your emotions and when your emotions shift to surprise and the color shifts to Brown his eyes mimic yours shifting in curiosity and surprise. You yank your hand back releasing him from your spell before any other emotions can be transferred to him. But emotions tend to linger so you shifted the color to grey and grabbed his arm shifting his emotions back to calm. 

He shook his head back and breathed calmly now feeling a sensation he had never felt before truly calm and relaxed. "Wow." Was all he could say as he closed his eyes relishing in the moment before it fell off him like a wave.

"Emotions tend to linger even if I were to pass out or end the connection they will remain until the person can calm down and their body starts producing its own chemicals again." You state placing your glove back on your hand knowing how addictive the powers can be. 

You watch Law take a deep breath before returning to his own emotions, "So you aren't just making people feel a particular way you are shifting the chemicals in the brain to make them think they feel a particular way. Interesting. I tried to do that with my Op Op powers so that I wouldn't have to use sedatives on my patients and risk a reaction but the process is extremely complicated with my abilities." He then got off the ground reaching his hand out for you, "Y/N would you please join my crew?" He asked.

You paused you have been used your entire life for your powers and the addictive nature that comes with them but you look up at Law curious and anticipating eyes. "Law...." You start but pause to take a deep breath, "I didn't steal an item from the Noble." You surprised yourself with the confession and you yank your eyes away from the captain looming over you. "I... I stole my freedom... I was his slave." You finally admitted and tears flowed down your eyes. Law noticed and bent back down to your level and pulled your face toward him so he could see your eyes shift black. "He used my powers to control his emotions and became addicted to them, I can't join your crew if that's what you want me to do."

"Y/N I asked you to join my crew because everyone has taken a liking to you. your powers are amazing but you never have to use them when you don't want to. If you join my crew I will never ask you to use your powers in a way you don't want to." You nodded believing his words, "However, because you were once a slave I suggest you take my offer. The world will not be kind to you and the world government will try to return you if you join my crew we can protect you."  He stood up and offered his hand again which you took and he pulled you up to your feet.

The two of you walked into the ship and as soon as the door closed the ship began to sink below the waterline. 

***

Next Chapter

[kookoofufu]

Chapter 1098 Spoilers

Well. That was a hell of a read.

First things first, I really hope Oda gives himself a break. I'll wait however long it takes if it means he doesn't kill himself rushing weekly unfinished chapters.

I was right about Bonney not being Kuma's biological daughter but in the worst way possible! Jesus christ I could not predict Bonney as a product of celestial dragon SA. There's a lot going on in this chapter, let's go.

Bonney's real age is fascinating for a few reasons. One: Bonney is 12 years old, 10 pre-timeskip. Meaning she is aged up somehow (due to Vegapunk or her devil fruit), and has either been cured of this rare disease or something else (in the present her blue stone has disappeared and been replaced by jewelry. suspicious. i still think clone fuckery is on the table).

Two: Kuma's weaponization, and most likely the installment of the Warlords themselves, only happened within the last 7 years (5 years pre-timeskip)! The timeline makes me go crazy.

Kuma raising Bonney also makes me go fucking crazy. Not only are they adorable, but Jewelry Bonney and the iconic "where would you like to go" question comes from this period. Asking other people that question may be a representation of Kuma's free will, a way to think of Bonney while in the depths of cyborg hell. And maybe Kuma didn't want to give Bonney his last name in order to protect her :(

It's also ironic that Kuma believes in Nika the sun god of freedom when sunlight killed Ginny and keeps Bonney trapped in her home. The open sky has always been a symbol of freedom in One Piece, so the sun becoming Ginny's enemy (after implying she was trapped underground) is very tragic. There's also this parallel between the dark and stormy sky with Kuma and the bright, dry sky with Ginny as they're on their own ships:

There's a lot I haven't gone over like the Revolutionary Army, King Becori's return, how the WG and Vegapunk might get involved, Nika, the sapphire sickness itself (passed on from celestial dragons??), etc. But we've got time. Break next week, after all.

[boygiwrites]

TWD Harley D. Dixon Chapter List

Daryl Dixon & Daughter OC.

Gen Tags. Found family, Daddy issues, Abuse, Hurt and comfort, Gore.

Summary. Harley D. Dixon is a tough yet sweet little girl who until the dead started eating the living, thought she had seen it all. Alongside a mismatched group of survivors in rural Georgia, Harley and her Dad are forced to leave their small life behind and learn how to survive all over again through the horrors of the apocalypse.

— TW: This fic contains canon typical violence and gore, abuse, mentioned suicide, off-screen suicide, main character death, and has been described by my lovely readers over on Ao3 as 'gritty', 'intriguing', 'intense', and 'special'. Please read with caution!

— Note: Canon is only loosely followed. Some changes have been made to certain plot points to keep it fresh and interesting / account for the added character.

❤️Cross-Posted from Ao3.

Season 1 - 2 Word Count: 180,000 Season 3 - ? Word Count: 48,000

SEASON ONE.

Chapter 1: Them That Mourn.

Chapter 2: No More Songs.

Chapter 3: My Brave Girl.

Chapter 4: Not Quite Yet.

Chapter 5: Black Out Days.

Chapter 6: Angels and Devils.

Chapter 7: Nothing's Ever Ours.

Chapter 8: In Sheep's Clothing.

Chapter 9: Rest In Piece.

SEASON TWO.

Chapter 10: Play Stupid Games.

Chapter 11: Win Stupid Prizes.

Chapter 12: Daddy Dearest.

Chapter 13: A Plan And An Execution

Chapter 14: If Heaven Weren't A Lie.

Chapter 15: Mockingbird.

Chapter 16: Custody Battles.

Chapter 17: Every Corner.

Chapter 18: Custody Battles, Part II.

Chapter 19: Dreams Don't Go Unpunished.

Chapter 20: And Still Very Beautiful.

Chapter 21: Thoughts and Prayers

Chapter 22: Growing Pains.

Chapter 23: The Type Meant for Dying.

Chapter 24: Church and State

Chapter 25: And The Type That Ain't.

Chapter 26: The Last Sunday on Earth.

Chapter 27: A New Life, Pursued.

Chapter 28: These Old Homes.

SEASON THREE.

Chapter 29: From Little Seeds.

Chapter 30: Red Handed.

Chapter 31: Maturity.

Chapter 32: The Best of Us.

Chapter 33: Picket Fences.

Chapter 34: Fresh Air.

Chapter 35: A Short Walk.

Chapter 36: Paradise.

Chapter 37: A Piece of Me.

Chapter 38: Heroes, Old and New.

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

✧*̥˚ my muses, acquired like bruises *̥˚✧

a collection of my fics inspired by taylor swift songs/lyrics, in honor of the release of THE TORTURED POETS DEPARTMENT

JOEL MILLER

cruel summer | au | explicit | chapters: 6/6

Joel takes a contracting job renovating a master bedroom and bathroom while the homeowners are away for the summer on a cruise. He wasn’t expecting their twenty-three year old daughter and the thoughts he’d have about her.

↳AO3 | Tumblr: chapter 1 | chapter 2 | chapter 3 | chapter 4 | chapter 5 | chapter 6

crimson red paint on my lips | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

Joel Miller is an asshole. You should have known better than to show up at his door with your lips painted red. Connected to me and the devil and marked me like a bloodstain

↳AO3 | Tumblr

marked me like a bloodstain | post-outbreak | explicit | connected work

You save Joel’s life when the two of you are attacked on a smuggling run. He has an interesting way of saying thank you. Connected to crimson red paint on my lips and me and the devil

↳Tumblr

karma is my boyfriend’s dad | au | explicit | connected work

Your boyfriend, Sean Miller, is an asshole. The one redeeming thing about him? His dad, Joel Miller. And he's just invited you along on the family vacation to Panama City Beach, Florida.

↳Tumblr

in a feud with her neighbor | au | explicit | connected work

Five times you think Joel Miller is the worst neighbor ever, and the one time he isn’t.

↳Tumblr

bonus scenes: in a feud with her neighbor | au | PG-13 | connected work

Fluffy bonus scenes for "in a feud with her neighbor" as suggested by anon!

↳Tumblr

toyin’ with them older guys | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller is the grumpy bartender and owner of your favorite bar near campus, where you attend trivia every Tuesday night. Thinking there’s no way Joel could return your feelings, your friend suggests trying out Tinder. But when you bring them to the bar for a date, they keep leaving mid date with no explanation. Maybe there’s something Joel isn’t telling you after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

help me hold onto you | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel always tries his best to keep his mind from wandering to its darkest corners, but occasionally, the frayed threads holding him together with sloppy stitches start to unravel. Sometimes you need to give him something to hold onto.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

seven | post-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has spent twenty years pushing the grief and guilt surrounding the death of his daughter, Sarah, to the darkest recesses of his brain in favor of survival. Living a more quiet life in Jackson means the ghosts of his past have returned to haunt him. He finds his solace in you, the town librarian.

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the last great american dynasty | au | explicit | one-shot

Joel Miller has loved the historic Victorian home in his neighborhood since the first time he laid eyes on it. When the elderly owner passes, he thinks he might get his chance to finally buy it and fix it up. He doesn’t expect to find you, the granddaughter of the previous owner and trustee of her estate, standing in the way of his dream.

↳Tumblr | AO3

TOMMY MILLER

wrong place, right time | pre-outbreak | explicit | one-shot

What if Joel didn’t answer Tommy’s call from jail? And what if the waitress he’d been defending that night bailed him out instead?

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JAVIER PEÑA

i can see you (javier peña's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

When Javier Peña takes credit for your lead, you take revenge. Good thing you know Javier can't resist a girl in red lipstick.

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FRANKIE MORALES

my tears and my beers and my candles | au | explicit | one-shot

It’s been a bad week and you just need to have a good cry. You didn’t expect Frankie Morales, best friend and unrequited crush, to crash your pity party. He’s got some interesting ways of making you feel better. Maybe it’s not so unrequited after all.

↳AO3 | Tumblr

invisible string | au | explicit | one-shot

After fifteen years, the invisible string that ties you to Frankie Morales pulls you back together

↳Tumblr

MIGUEL O'HARA

i can see you (miguel o'hara's version) | au | explicit | one-shot

As Dr. Miguel O’Hara’s graduate teaching and research assistant, you’ve spent years pushing down the inappropriate thoughts you’ve had about the brilliant, gorgeous man. But what happens when a late night at the lab and a scientific breakthrough leads to a breakthrough of a different kind?

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EDDIE MUNSON

the mark you saw on my collarbone | vampire au | explicit | connected work

A snippet of life with your human and your monster. A oneshot in the bat out of hell series

↳AO3

[cozage]

The Daughter's Return: Stories from the Vault

Some old stories from when you were a kid! This is LONG but its eight short stories from various ages of the readers life!

For those of you that might be reading for the first time, this is a prequel to The Daughter’s Return, but you can read it independently if you’re just looking for cute little stories!

This idea was sent to me by anonymous! CW: some mentions of child abuse (in Age 5 story and Age 11 Story) Word Count: 7.3k Part One | Next Chapter | Table of Contents | Read on AO3

Magic - Age 5

You had gotten hopelessly lost. You had told Marco you knew your way back to the ship, and you had stormed off. He was taking too long. And now you weren’t sure which way to turn. You had a great sense of direction at sea, but it didn’t seem to be the same on land. 

Some men were talking nearby. They looked a little rough, but that never deterred your father from talking to people, and it wouldn't deter you. “Excuse me,” you said, and the men immediately stopped talking. “I think I’m lost.”

“Lost, huh?” The man with a scar on his cheek chuckled. “Too bad, kid. We’re busy.”

“But-”

“Hang on, Tank,” the man without teeth said. “I know her from somewhere.”

The two exchanged glances, and then crouched down to your level. You knew they would help if you asked. 

“Where you gotta get to, little girl?” Tank asked. 

“The docks,” you explained. “My dad has a ship.”

Both of their eyes got wide, and they looked at each other once again. 

“Say kid, what’s your dad's name?” Tank licked his lips. “Wouldn’t happen to be Whitebeard, would it?”

“That’s it!” you cried out. “You know him?”

“Yeah,” the other man said. “We’re good friends. In fact, we were just about to give him this too.” 

The man held up a strange-looking fruit. You weren’t sure what your father would do with a fruit. There were plenty of normal fruits on the ship already. Maybe it was special. Maybe it was magical. It certainly looked magical.

“Let’s go, kid,” Tank said. He grabbed your hand and gripped it firmly. It was almost painful, but you didn’t complain. You didn’t want to be in more trouble. 

The three of you walked for a long time, and you couldn’t help but feel like you were going further into the island. You were now in the middle of the jungle, and you guessed that the men were lost now too. You should’ve stuck with Marco. This was getting complicated. 

“Listen Sunny, I don’t got a good feeling about this,” Tank mumbled, his eyes on you.

“What are you talking about? Listen, the N-”

“Shush! Not around the kid! She’s worth 10 million berries for a reason!”

“Hey kid,” Sunny said looking at you. “You stand right here and don’t move. We’ll be right back.”

He placed the fruit on a log nearby, and the two of them walked a couple of yards away to speak privately. 

You knew you should spend your time listening in on their conversation, but you couldn’t stop staring at the black fruit in front of you. It was like it was alive, the undertones of the fruit shifting in color from yellow to orange to red, and then back again. It had to be magical.

You weren’t sure how you ended up beside it, or how it ended up in your hands. You were mesmerized by it. It would make a good gift for your father, but you wanted nothing more than to try it yourself first. Just a small piece. It wouldn’t even be noticeable. You closed your eyes and took a small bite. 

It took everything you had not to gag. This was a terrible gift. It tasted horrible. You chewed, and then swallowed, and finally began coughing from the horrid taste of it. You weren’t sure what you were expecting, but it wasn’t this. 

“Hey! What the hell are you-” Sunny’s eyes got wide, and you heard him scream out a string of curses. 

“Spit it out, you devil!” Tank screamed, running at you. “We can’t sell that to the Navy if you eat it!”

The Navy? No, this fruit was supposed to be going to your father. They had told you that. 

Sunny got to you first, and he slapped you hard across the face. Your skin stung, and you could feel tears rising in your eyes. But you held onto the strange fruit. You refused to let it go now. It was your magic fruit.

“You little bitch!” Sunny screamed, shaking you like a rag doll. “You ruined everything! We were going to make a fortune off of that!”

“Sunny, relax,” Tank reasoned. “We can still turn the kid in. The Navy will give us more since she’s got powers now.”

“The Navy?” You were confused. “You were supposed to take me to my dad.”

“We hunt pirates. Which is what you are,” Sunny sneered. “You’re going straight to Naval Headquarters, kid. They’ll probably kill you the moment you arrive.”

“No.” You could feel tears rising, and you took a step back, trying to get away from them. “No. I want to go to my dad.”

“Get her, Tank.”

Tank’s large arms reached for you, and you squeezed your eyes shut. You let out a loud shriek, hoping to attract someone-anyone-who might help. You held your magic fruit tight and felt a strange pull in your stomach, but you refused to open your eyes. 

You couldn’t hear Tank and Sunny anymore, or anything for that matter. Everything seemed eerily quiet, even though you were in the middle of the forest. 

When you finally opened your eyes, it looked like a bomb had gone off around you. You were standing in a hardened lava flow that stretched out at least 100 yards on every side of you. There were no signs of trees or grass, only blackened volcanic rock.

You heard the familiar flap of wings above you, and Marco dropped down in front of you. 

“What’s wrong?” he asked, checking your body for any sign of injury. You flinched when he touched your cheek, still sore from Sunny’s slap. “Who did this to you?”

“Nobody,” you said, tears welling in your eyes. You couldn’t let him know you had gotten lost. You couldn’t let him know you had gotten hurt.

His eyes scanned the surrounding area, clearly in disbelief at the power emitted. “Who did this?”

“I don’t know.” You wiped at your eyes. Your throat hurt from screaming so much. 

Suddenly Marco’s entire body got tense, and he pulled your magical fruit out from your hands, examining it. 

“It’s for dad.” You sniffled. “That’s what the guys said.”

“What guys?” His eyes found the small bite you had taken, and they grew wide. “Did you eat this?”

You took a step back from him, afraid he might hit you too. Marco had never hit you before, but the fruit seemed to make people do crazy things. 

“No,” you lied, trying your hardest not to cower.

“Y/N. Did you eat this?!” He shoved the fruit in your face, pointing to the tiny bite you had taken.

“I’m sorry,” you sobbed, falling to your knees. “Please don’t hit me. I’m sorry.”

“Hey, it’s okay.” Marco’s voice was instantly soft again, making you cry even more. “I’ve got you, kid. You’re safe.”

“It looked so good,” you cried. You let him pick you up, and you cried into his shoulder. “But it was so yucky.”

“It’s okay,” he soothed, rubbing your back. “They’re not very yummy, I know.”

“I want to go home.” You wrapped your arms around his neck, and he took flight into the sky, holding you and your magic fruit tightly. 

You must’ve fallen asleep mid-flight, because when you woke up, Marco was still holding you, but you were now on a boat. Home. 

“What kind of fruit?” Your father whispered.

“Some kind with lava properties, it appears. There was a huge explosion, and I found her surrounded by hundreds of feet of cooled lava on all sides.”

“Hundreds?” Your father sounded skeptical.

“I can take you back to the place I found her, if you’d like to see.”

The thought of going back to Tank and Sunny made you let out an involuntary whimper, and you squeezed Marco’s neck. “Please don’t make me go back to the bad men. I won’t leave your side again, Marco. Promise.”

“The bad men?” Your father asked. 

“Can you tell us about them?” Marco asked, prying you from him and setting you on the ground. 

“They said they were bringing me and the fruit back to you,” you explained. “But when I ate the magic fruit, they got really mad at me and then they disappeared.”

“Disappeared?” your father asked, “Disappeared how?”

“I dunno. I closed my eyes and screamed and when I opened them they were gone.”

Your father gave Marco a quick glance of concern, and then turned his attention back to you. 

“I’m just glad you’re safe, punk.” You father stretched out his hands and you ran to him, clamoring up onto his lap. 

“You’re not mad?” you asked, looking up at him with big, watery eyes. “Even though I ate your fruit?”

“It’s your fruit now.” Your father laughed. “What’s it called?”

“The Vulcan-Vulcan fruit,” you said instantly, though you weren’t sure how you knew it. “Am I magic now like you and Marco?”

Your father gave you a big grin, pulling you in for a tight hug. “You sure are! But we're going to have to teach you how to use that magic, okay?”

“Okay!”

---

Trouble - Age 7

Marco pulled open the doors to the supply closet, and bent his head down to make eye contact with you. 

“Whatcha doin' in here, kid?” he asked, seeing the guilt written all across your face. 

“Hiding.”

He raised an eyebrow. “Why?”

“I’m gonna be in trouble.”

He smirked. So you had caused that fire at the base of the main mast. “Mind if I join you?”

You shook your head, and he climbed in next to you and shut the cabinet door behind him. The two of you sat there in the dark, him waiting for you to speak. 

“I didn’t mean to,” you finally whispered. “I just got mad.”

“What are we supposed to do when people make us mad?”

“They were laughing at me. Calling me princess and making fun of me. I tried to ignore them, Marco. I promise I did try!”

“They’re not trying to be mean,” Marco explained, but you shook your head.

“They were being mean! They weren’t being funny-mean like you or Thatch or Izou! They were just being mean!” You could feel the magma under your skin start to churn, making it feel like a thousand bugs were crawling across your skin. A slight glow came from you as you shifted in discomfort, illuminating the closet. 

“Deep breaths. I don’t want this stuff to catch on fire too.”

You let out a small sob and buried your head in your knees. “Now you’re being mean! Just leave me alone!”

“I’m just teasing,” Marco said, putting his hand on your shoulder. He sucked in a breath at the heat you were emitting, but he didn’t remove his hand. 

“I hate this power,” you cried. “I can’t control it! It’s stupid and it just keeps hurting people!”

“Breathe with me,” Marco said. You heard him take a deep breath in, and you followed his lead. When he breathed out, you did. When he breathed in, you did. 

After a few minutes, you could feel your body starting to relax, the magma beneath your skin stilling, and peace returning once again. 

“Can I just give this power back?” you asked. “It’s been two years and I can’t figure it out. I’m failing.”

“You’re not failing,” Marco said, wrapping his arm around your shoulder. “You’re learning.”

---

Nap - Age 8

You preferred to sleep in your father’s study during the day. Marco always made you take a nap, but you didn’t really need naps anymore. You were getting too old for that. 

But, when you were “asleep” in your father’s study, sometimes you got to hear top secret reports. Things only the reporter and Pops knew about. And you, but nobody knew that. So you didn’t mind nap time too much, as long as you got to be in his office. 

Today had been boring, though. No reports at all. Just your father working quietly at his desk, the scratch of pen against paper slowly lulling you to sleep. 

And then the door creaked open. 

“Pops,” a man whispered. “We found it.”

Your father’s pen stopped moving, and your ears perked up as you laid against the cot in the back of his office. 

“Found what?” Your father asked. 

“The fruit.”

“Is it safe?”

The man sighed, coming into the room and taking a seat at the desk. “It’s with a kid.”

Your father paused, and you could sense him trying to figure out if you were asleep or not. You steadied your breathing and your heart rate as best you could, keeping your entire body still. 

You heard him shift back in his chair, his attention turned to the crewmate in front of him. “A kid?”

“He just started sailing in the North Blue. Just a teenager. Trafalgar Law.”

“How the hell did a kid get his hands on a fruit like that? And where in the North Blue?”

“We believe he’s from Flevance.”

“Flevance!?” Your father’s voice was louder from disbelief, causing you to flinch. He lowered it again instantly, aware of your presence and not wanting to wake you. “So he’s a walking corpse. It's just a matter of time.”

“That’s the thing, sir. We have reason to believe he’s been cured.”

“With immortality? That’s not how the Ope-Ope fruit works. Someone else has to-”

“We’ve confirmed he’s the one in possession of the Ope-Ope ability. We believe he used it to cure himself.”

“Incredible,” your father breathed out. “He was just a kid when it went missing. He was that knowledgeable at such a young age?”

“It appears that way. But all files about Flevance have been destroyed, so there’s no record of his family.”

“I see.” Your father hummed, trying to weigh a decision. “Have we sent people to him? To invite him to join us?”

“He didn’t seem interested.”

“But he’s not hostile?”

“Unclear,” the man said. “We have reports that he used to be a part of the Donquixote Family, but that doesn’t seem to be the case anymore.”

“Any idea what caused the split?”

“No,” the man said. “But reports say Trafalgar disappeared the same time another member did. Code name Corazon.”

“Damn that Doflamingo,” your father cursed. “He makes a mess wherever he goes.”

“What should we do, Pops? Want us to bring him in anyway?”

“No,” he said immediately. “Leave him alone. Seems like that kid has been through enough. Just keep tabs on him, and let me know when he enters the Grand Line.”

“Sure thing. You sure that’s all you want to do? The Ope-Ope fruit-”

“Belongs to Trafalgar. He decides what to do with it. We should respect that.”

“Alright.” You heard the door creak open and shut once again. 

“You are never to tell anyone what you just heard.” Your father’s voice was dangerously serious; so much that it caused the hairs to stand up on your neck. “Never. Is that understood?”

“Yes sir,” you whispered, squeezing your eyes shut tighter. 

“Good.” He went back to writing. 

You tried to sleep, but your mind couldn’t stop wandering to the boy in the North Blue. You wondered if he was nice. You wondered if you’d ever meet him. You hoped your paths would cross some way one day.

---

Stargazing - Age 9

“Marco!”

“I’m busy tonight.” The first division ruffled your hair playfully. “It’s late anyway, you should go to sleep.”

“But-!”

“Go on! It’s going to get crazy here in a bit anyway,” Marco said. “You know how Pops feels about you being out during party nights.”

“That’s not fair,” you pouted. “I’m still part of the crew. I should be able to party.”

“Maybe when you’re in double digits,” Marco jested. 

“Really?!”

“Go!”

Thatch peeked his head in the door. “How about you come hang with me, squirt?”

You stuck your tongue out at him. “I’m not a squirt!”

“Of course. How could I forget?” He gave you a deep bow. “Your majesty.”

You giggled at his actions, already forgetting about Marco. “Take me to the kitchen, Mister Knight!”

“Gladly.” He scooped you up and dangled you upside down, causing you to squeal in delight. 

“No, Thatch! Not like that!” you giggled, squirming in his grasp. 

“Sorry madam, I can’t seem to hear you,” he said, shaking you and causing you to squeal even louder. “You said just like that?”

You erupted into another round of squeals and giggles, and he escorted you from the room to the kitchen upside down. When you arrived at the kitchen, he easily tossed you into the air and set you on the seat in front of the stove. “What would you like, O’ Princess of the Seas?”

It’s the name that had been coined for you across the Grand Line ever since your bounty shot up to 200 million. Daughter of Whitebeard: Princess of the Seas. You had a love/hate relationship with it, but when the commanders said it, you thought it sounded quite nice. 

“Ice cream!” you called, a glint in your eye. 

“Aw, come on!” Thatch complained. “You know you can’t have that this late.”

You gave him the biggest pouty face and sweetest doe eyes you could muster. “Just this time?”

He let out a chuckle and shook his head. “You’re devious, kid. Devious.” Bending down, he pulled out two bowls and an ice cream scooper. You immediately dropped the act, a huge smile appearing across your face. 

“Can we do chocolate?” you asked hopefully. 

“Might as well,” Thatch sighed, opening the freezer. “You better eat all the vegetables I give you tomorrow.”

“I’ll help you make them, if you want!” You were bouncing up and down in your seat in anticipation. 

Thatch groaned at your excitement. “I’m gonna pay for this, I can tell.” Regardless, he scooped out two heaping scoops for you, and two for him. 

He slid the bowl across to you, and you immediately dug in. He watched you in humor for a few bites, and then began eating his own. “How’s your training coming?”

“I’ve almost got the hang of it!” you said proudly. “I can practice small stuff on the ship now.”

Thatch laughed. “You’re not a fire hazard anymore?”

You smiled at his half-joke. “Only sometimes.”

“Good to hear.” He glanced down at your already empty bowl and smiled, impressed with your eating skills. “Let’s get you to bed.”

“Wait!” You threw your hands up, begging him to stop. “Can’t we do something else? Please Uncle Thatch?”

It was a desperate attempt, you knew that. But the commanders always melted when you called them uncle. It was the easiest trick in the book, yet they bent to it every time.

You could see a slight rose color dust across Thatch’s cheeks, and you knew you had succeeded. 

“Fine, fine! Come on, I think tonight will be a good night.”

“A good night for what?” you asked, but he just picked you up and set you on his strong, broad shoulders, silently carrying you out onto the deck. 

It was loud outside. You had to cover your ears from all the music and the screaming. But Thatch didn’t head toward the party. He turned and the two of you snuck up the stairs to the back of the ship. 

It was significantly quieter back here, like someone had placed a wall between you all and the party. He set you down at the very back of the boat, and laid down next to you.

“What are you doing?” you stood over him, pouting downward. 

Thatch just laughed. “You’re looking the wrong way, kid.” He pointed to the sky. “Look up.”

You followed his finger upward, and found a sky more full of stars than you had ever seen before. 

“Woah,” you breathed out, full of amazement and wonder. “There’s so many.”

“Lay down.” He patted the deck next to him, and you did what you were told. “If you watch closely, you might see a shooting star.”

“Really?” you gasped, your eyes scanning the sky even more intensely. You were attempting to look at every place at once, desperate to find what he had promised. 

“Just pick a piece of the sky and watch it,” Thatch advised. “You’ve really never done this?”

“A few times,” you admitted. “But the sky has never looked this radent.”

“Radiant,” Thatch corrected, a smile on his lips. “Guessing you read that in one of your books.”

“Yeah. Sometimes-oh! There!” you pointed to the streak of light across the sky. “Did you see that one!?”

“Yeah! Good eye,” Thatch noted. “You’re very observant.”

“Dad says I’ll make a good strategist.”

Thatch glanced over at you. “Do you want to be a strategist?”

“I think so.” You kept your eyes on the sky. “I don’t know though. Sometimes it’s overwhelming to think that much.”

“You seem to like correcting Marco in the meetings.”

“Well, he doesn’t think of all the things he should!” Thatch laughed at your comment, but he didn’t say anything more. 

“There’s another one!” you cried after a few moments, pointing at the sky. 

“Gah! I missed it! Well, make a wish.”

“A wish?” you asked. You hadn’t heard of that before.

“It’s a thing you do in the North Blue. If nobody else sees the shooting star, you make a wish and they say it’ll come true.”

“But it won’t actually come true, right?” you reasoned. That was silly. 

Thatch just shrugged. “Might as well try. What does it hurt?”

And so you closed your eyes and thought about what you wanted to wish for. A friend. That would be nice. One your own age. One who you could play games with and laugh with and tell secrets too. You wished for a friend.

“I made my wish,” you said, opening your eyes again. 

“Don’t tell me what it was. You have to keep it a secret.”

“Okay,” you agreed. You watched the sky for a little while longer, but you didn’t see any more shooting stars. You must’ve used them all up on your wish. “Hey Thatch?”

“Hm?”

“Thanks for never making fun of me. Like when I mess up or stuff.”

“Why would I make fun of you?” he asked. You could hear the confusion in his voice.

“Some people do. But you don’t. So…thanks.”

“Sure, kid. Let me know if I ever hurt your feelings or I accidentally make fun of you, okay?” He sighed, and you could hear that he was struggling to stay awake. “Thanks for hanging out with me tonight.”

“I like stargazing,” you said, your eyes starting to droop.

“Me too, kid.”

---

Friend - Age 11

You were eleven when your wish came true. You wished on several stars since that first one, an overwhelming amount of them were spent on a friend your age. And there she was. Standing in front of you. She was slightly taller than you, and maybe a year or two older. But she would do. 

“This is Whitey,” your father said, introducing you to the new girl. “She’s joining the crew as your new sister, so make her feel welcome.”

It took approximately four hours for you and Whitey to become best friends. The two of you shrieked with joy as you trampled across the deck. You bulldozed through people without a care in the world. 

At night, the two of you hid under the covers, whispering secrets while you held your hand over your mouth to muffle the giggles. You made up stories and told her about the crew, and she told you about her life hopping from island to island, working under new people every few years. 

One morning, it was just you and Thatch in the kitchen. You swung your feet while you sat on the barstool, waiting for Thatch to finish your eggs. You had heard enough stories, but you were afraid to ask Whitey directly. You didn’t want to lose a friend. Thatch wouldn’t make fun of you for asking, though. 

“Was Whitey a slave?”

You heard Thatch make a garbled noise, like you had caught him off guard with your question. “What makes you think that?”

“The stories she told me. She moved around a lot, and the people were always really mean to her. She has a lot of scars on her hands.”

“Observant as always,” Thatch mumbled. “Yeah. Pops and Marco found her in the street, searching for food. But she used to be a slave.”

“Did we kidnap her?”

“You can’t kidnap a slave, kid. You free them.” He plated your egg, and threw some bread on the pan to toast it. 

“So she’s free now?” you asked.

“Yep.”

“But she’s a kid.” Your brows knit together, trying to understand. “Kids are supposed to be with their family. Shouldn’t we take her back to her parents?”

“We’re her family now,” Thatch explained. “That’s what matters.”

“What if her parents miss her?” you asked. “Pops would miss me if I found another family.”

Thatch put the toast on your plate and slid it over to you. You could tell he was thinking carefully of how to word what he wanted to say. 

“I don’t think Whitey’s family was very kind to her. I don’t think they miss her,” he said. “I don’t even think they know her. She’s been a slave for so long, they probably forgot about her.”

“Forgot?!” you cried. “I could never forget my family! I could never forget you!”

“And I’ll never forget you,” Thatch promised. “But some families aren’t close like ours. Some don’t like each other at all.”

“That doesn’t sound very much like family.” You weren’t really hungry anymore. This discussion had made you lose your appetite. 

 “It’s not. That’s why we're Whitey’s family now. So make sure you’re the best sister you can be, okay?”

“Okay! We're gonna do Spa Day!” You jumped off the barstool and raced out the door. You had to make Whitey feel like the most loved person in the whole world. She was your best friend and your newest sister. 

“Your breakfast!” Thatch called, but you were already gone. 

“Whitey!” You jumped on her, still asleep in bed. “Whitey, wake up!”

“I don’t want to,” she groaned, flipping away from you. 

“But we’re gonna have Spa Day!”

Her eyes peeked out from behind the covers. “Spa Day?”

“Spa Day!” you cried. “Come on!”

You pulled her out of bed and to the female bathhouse. You immediately stripped down to your underwear, but Whitey kept all her clothes on. The two of you worked together to fill the tub full of hot water, steam spreading throughout the room. 

“Oh! I forgot!” you threw your back clothes on quickly. “I need the vegetables!”

“Vegetables?” But you were already racing out the door and back to the kitchen. 

“Thatch!” you yelled, running into the kitchen. Marco was in there, and he looked at you in an amused manner. 

“Is it inside-out day?” Marco teased, and you stuck your tongue out at him. In your haste, you had thrown your clothes on the wrong way. But that didn’t matter right now.

“Here,” Thatch said, handing you a basket. “There’s salts, peppermint, and lavender. Put those in the bath. Over here are the aloe-coconut facemasks, just apply those before you get in the tub. The cucumbers over your eyes. Got it?”

You squealed in delight. “Thank you!!!”

“I’ve got stones on the warmer for when you’re done!” he called out to you as you ran back to the bathroom. 

“You spoil her,” Marco chided. 

“Oh please, as if you don't.”

-

“Got the vegetables,” you panted as you entered the bathhouse, exhausted from running across the ship. 

Whitey was still dressed, and you frowned at her hesitance as you stripped down. “Whitey, you have to take your clothes off.”

“What?!” You could see her cheeks pink. “All of them?”

“To get in the bath, yeah.”

“Maybe I could just keep my shirt on.”

“No,” you said. “The fibers get into the drain and clog it.”

“Well I don’t want to take my shirt off.”

You scowled. “Why not? I have mine off.”

You could see the panic in her eyes at your question, her entire body tensing. “I don’t want to do this anymore.”

“Whitey-” 

“Spa Day is stupid!” she screamed. She slammed the door as she left, making you jump at its echo in the room.

You tried your best not to cry. You really did. But by the time you were in the kitchen returning the ingredients to Thatch, your vision was too blurry to see his frame. 

“She didn’t want to do Spa Day,” you sobbed, globs of lava mixing in with your tears. “She said it was stupid!”

“Oh, okay.” Thatch took the basket from you and set it to the side. “I’m sorry, kid.”

“I hate her!” you screamed, your skin starting to boil. “She’s so mean! She’s just like everyone else!”

“What exactly happened?” Marco asked, coming over to help mitigate your frustration.

“I told her no shirts in the bath,” you said between breaths. “Because that’s the rule!”

“Okay, uh, kid-” Thatch took a step back, letting Marco take over. The doctor had a bit more heat tolerance with your literal meltdowns. Your tears were starting to drip down onto the wood, burning holes into them.

“Y/N. Stop.” Marco said, putting a hand on your shoulder. “I know you’re upset, but we’re not going to destroy Thatch’s nice kitchen because of it, okay?”

Your lips puckered out, trying to hold in your sadness. “Sorry,” you whimpered. You wiped the hot tears from your face.

“Why do you think Whitey didn’t want to take off her shirt?” Marco asked. “Think about it.”

You bit your lip, thinking long and hard about why a shirt was a big deal. “She’s embarrassed.”

“Good,” Marco said, nodding his head. “Do we think we can bend the rules for it this one time to make her feel more at home?”

“But-”

“The drain, I know,” Marco finished for you. “I’ll talk to Pops. Don’t empty the tub when you guys leave, and let me know when you’re done, okay?”

You looked over at Thatch, trying to ask him a secret question. Why was she embarrassed? You silently asked. 

Thatch nodded, understanding. “Think about what we talked about this morning.”

Family? No, not that. Whitey used to be a slave. She had scars on her hands. Maybe she had scars on her back too. Maybe she didn’t want to show them. 

“Thank you Marco.” You gave him a hug, finally calm again. “And thank you Thatch.” You ran over and gave him a hug too. “Sorry about your floor.”

“It can be fixed,” Thatch assured you. He handed the basket back to you. “Just like you and Whitey.”

You walked back to your room, your stomach bubbling with nerves.

“Whitey?” you knocked softly on the door, and then opened it. 

“Go away.”

“We can still do Spa Day,” you said. 

“I said go away.”

“You can keep your shirt on,” you said. “It’s not a big deal. I’ll keep my shirt on too.”

Whitey turned over to look at you. “You will?”

You nodded. “We can have Shirt Spa Day.”

Whitey giggled. “Shirt Spa Day. That’s funny.”

“Shirt Spa Day!” you chanted, and she joined in with you. The two of you skipped down to the bathhouse, still chanting your silly string of words, and solidifying a tradition that would last for years to come. 

---

Learning - Age 13

You screamed out in frustration, volcanic glass shattering around you. You had been trying for days to get this new technique right, and you could never make it like how you were envisioning. 

A small beam of volcanic magma. That’s all you were trying to do. But you couldn’t get right. It was either the wrong consistency, or the wrong angle, or didn’t even come out at all. 

And this evening you all were leaving the island. It would be at least a few days before you could practice again. Not that you had made any headway. You were still back at square one. You hadn’t done anything. 

“Looks like you're struggling,” a familiar voice boomed, laughing at your distress. 

You quickly composed yourself, trying to appear somewhat level-headed before you turned to the voice. 

“Teach!” you said, putting on a smile and giving a laugh. “Yeah, just a little bit.”

“Maybe I can help?”

You gave a polite smile, not wanting to appear rude. You weren’t entirely sure what Teach could do to help, since he didn’t have a devil fruit ability. But Marco and your father had left you to figure it out on your own, and you could use any help you could get. 

“What exactly are you trying to do?”

“Just a thin lava stream projectile,” you explained. “One that can be small and precise if I need to take out one person in a group.” 

Teach nodded, impressed with your idea. “Have you got the lava beam worked out yet?”

“No, that’s the problem. I can’t make it at all.”

“Let me see.”

You frowned, but you did as you were told. You held your hand out, pointing to a rock, and tried to make a small strand of lava shoot from your hand. You could feel the energy building up, like all of the pressure was stuck behind a wall. 

And then there was a flash, and magma erupted from the ground around you, spewing hundreds of feet into the air. 

Luckily Teach was far enough away that the blast zone didn’t hit him. He simply laughed at your misfortune, a loud booming cackle. 

“I see your problem,” he said. “You’re too strong.”

You scowled at him, thinking he might be trying to make fun of you. “What do you mean?”

“You’re trying to make a tiny beam. But you don’t even know what the beam should look like. You’re doing too much at once and overloading your senses.”

“Marco said I should start small,” you said. 

“Marco doesn’t have your kind of power.” He laughed again, walking over to you. “Look, kid. Just focus on making a beam. It doesn’t matter how big it is. Don’t limit it. Just envision a beam hitting, say…that rock over there. Try that, okay?”

You looked at your hands, skeptical of his advice. “Okay.” You took a deep breath, and held out your hands in the direction of the rock. “You might want to step back.”

“Don’t need to. Don’t kill me, okay?”

You couldn't kill Teach. He was one of the oldest members on the ship. He had always been there. You'd never forgive yourself if you even burned him a little. You had to get this right. You took one more breath, trying your best to center yourself and envision the kind of thing you wanted. And then, you pushed the lava out of your hands, aiming for the rock. 

It hit. Exactly how you imagined it would. Well, it was kind of hard to miss the rock. Your beam was about 10 times larger than what you had initially wanted. But it was a beam. 

You could hear Teach cheering behind you, whooping and hollering at your success. 

“I did it!” you screamed, hardly believing it yourself. 

“You’ve got power, kid!” Teach patted your head in approval, and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of pride. You had been failing because you had been limiting yourself. But you weren’t a failure. You were powerful. 

“It’s my dream to perfect this,” you said, a grin on your face. “Perfect this and become division two commander.”

“That should be a pretty easy goal for you to reach,” Teach said. “Better start thinking of another dream soon.”

“Do you have any dreams, Teach?”

“We all have dreams, kid. I’m just glad I could help you get closer to yours.”

“What’s yours?”

He cackled at your question. “There’s a devil fruit I'd like to find one day.”

“Oh! Well, the Grand Line is huge, it’s gotta be out there somewhere. Any fruits I find you’re welcome to. ” It's the least you could offer.

“Well that sure is kind of you! I’m sure it’s around here somewhere.”

“I really hope you find it, Teach.”

“Me too, kid. Me too.” He sighed, a smile dancing across his lips. “But let's focus on you! Keep practicing! Make it smaller and smaller until you’ve got it the way you want. You’ll get there!”

It was the first time someone really understood how you learned and operated, and every move you perfected in the future came from what you learned that day. 

---

Kiss - Age 16

You hadn’t expected your first kiss to be on your 16th birthday, but that’s just how it happened. 

He was a new crew member, and he had caught your eye almost immediately. His name was Palms, and he was quite the looker. 

You must’ve caught his eye as well, because every time you looked at him, he seemed to already be watching you. 

The two of you played this silent game, flirting only with looks passed between one another, when finally Whitey nudged you. 

“Will you just go talk to him! You guys have been fucking each other with your eyes since the sun went down!”

“Whitey!” you gasped, giggling at her bluntness. She rolled her eyes and waved you on, encouraging you to get a move on.

You met him over by the keg, and you filled up your tankard while waiting for him to speak.  

“I hear this party is for you!” he yelled, trying to make his voice heard over the music. 

“My 16th birthday!” You yelled back. 

“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t know! I would’ve brought a present!”

You gave him a wink. “You still have time to think of one.”

“Oh yeah?” He asked, his eyes raking your body. “Yeah, I can think of one.”

You had never felt self-conscious before in your outfits, but Whitey had chosen this one for you, and it was a bit more skin than you were used to. But she had told you that confidence was key, so you gave him a smirk and walked inside the doors. You wanted a little bit of privacy.

He was a terrible kisser. Or maybe you were. You weren’t sure. It was your first time kissing, after all. But it was still euphoric. A rush of the senses, you could feel your body temperature rising in response to-

“Holy shit you’re hot,” Palms said, pulling away from you. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, that just happens sometimes,” you explained, rushing back to his mouth.

“No,” he said, pulling away from you. “You’re like, burning me.”

“Oh.” You could feel your cheek blush. Your skin started to churn, anxious at this new revelation. You couldn’t even kiss without your ability going haywire. 

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He said, watching the magma beneath your skin start to glow with slight concern. Not concern for you. Concern for himself. 

“Yeah.” The moment was gone, and you only felt shame now. “Thanks for the birthday present.”

He gave a nervous laugh. “If you need another one when you cool down, you know where to find me.”

You gave him a polite smile and rushed out onto the deck. Instead of returning to the party, you went up the stairs and to the back of the ship. You just wanted to be alone. 

You knew what some people said about you. How you couldn't control your emotions. And since your emotions controlled your powers, you couldn't control that either. People constantly questioned your father on your abilities, and his decision to make you lead strategist at such a young age. The only people who really trusted you on their teams were Marco and Thatch. The other commanders would tolerate you, but they would never use you to your full potential. It's like everyone was just waiting for you to mess up.

You leaned over the side of the ship as you cried, trying not to get any burn marks on the wood. You had been with your devil fruit ability for over ten years now, and you still couldn’t completely control it. You hated it. Some days you wished that you had never eaten that stupid thing, or that you had just let those men take you to the Navy and it-

“I thought we’d find you here,” Whitey said, coming up next to you. She gave you a light bump on the shoulder. 

“We?”

“Come on,” Marco said from behind you. “We’re going to play Strategist and Commanders.”

“You said I’m too young for that.”

“Not anymore,” Thatch said, a smile spreading across his face. “You’re sixteen now, aren’t you? Welcome to the club.” 

“But I’m just the lead strategist. I don’t belong to a division.”

“Don’t belong to a division,” Marco scoffed. “You can be on my team. Or Thatch’s. Whoever you don’t choose is stuck with Whitey.”

“Stuck with?!?” Whitey pouted, rolling her eyes. “More like graced with!”

“But-”

“Stop making excuses,” Thatch said, ruffling your hair. “Let’s go.”

You gave him a smile, already forgetting about your disastrous kiss. “Let’s go.”

Oh, they had no idea what kind of monster they had awakened that night. 

--

Departing - 2 years ago

“You’re sure you want to do this?” Marco asked, looking at you. 

“A lot of things will change in two years,” Thatch warned.

“I’m ready.” You nodded, adjusting your things on your back. “I need to do this.”

You walked over to Whitey, the goodbye you were dreading the most. 

“You gonna be okay without me?”

Tears filled her eyes. “Yeah.”

“You don’t have to lie, Whitey. I’m not going to be okay without you either.”

She let out a soft sob, and clamped her hand over her mouth. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. 

“Don’t be.” You wrapped her in a hug, crying too. Normal tears now, though your lava tears rarely affected your ice-witch best friend. 

“I know you have to leave to get stronger,” she said, her voice muffled by your gear. “But I hate it so much.”

“We’ll have SO much to catch up on when I get back, though!” you let out a choked laugh. “We can stay up all night under the covers, just like old times.”

“Promise?” she sobbed, clutching you tighter. 

“I promise.”

The two of you finally broke apart, viciously wiping the tears off your face. 

“That was embarrassing,” you both said in sync, which started another round of laughing sobs. 

“Y/N.” Your father’s voice boomed from nearby, quiet, but urgent. “We have a small window of operation to get you where you need to go.”

“Right.” You gave Whitey one more squeeze. “I’ll see you soon. And I’ll make a journal every day so I remember everything to tell you. You do the same.”

“Deal.”

You walked over to your father, towering above you. “Thank you for everything, Pops.” You tried to keep your voice level, but you could feel your lip trembling. 

Thankfully, your father’s was doing the same. “I know this is the right call. The timing couldn’t be better. I'll remind you, you’ve already done it, but continue to make me proud.”

“I’ll do my best,” you promised. 

“That’s all I can ask for.”

He pulled you in for a hug, and you could feel he was holding back tears, just like you were. You had never been away from your father, besides small missions and scouting trips. And now you wouldn’t see him for two years. 

“Ready, Izou?” you asked, looking toward the man who would take you to Wano. 

“Let’s go.”

You walked through the crowd, saying goodbye to the only family you had known your entire life. 

“Good luck!” called Haruta. He had just joined, and you were sad you wouldn’t get to know him more. 

“Get nice and strong, and come be our commander!” Teach yelled, and you gave him a grateful nod. 

“We love you!” called a group of young adults. You spotted Palms amongst them, and blushed as you waved.

You knew things would be different when you got back. You just didn’t realize how different they would be. 

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[hearts4youz]

The Captains Daughter -Chapter 3-

A/N Sorry for the longer wait!!! chapters 4 and 5 are ready to go and will be out this week/weekend as well!! hope yall are doing great and enjoy this chapter! its a bit of a slow one, the next few are too but I promise it will get better!!

@abbiesxox

Word count: 1.1k

Reader pov:

*Beep beep*

*Beep beep*

4:45 AM, your alarm was blaring. You let out an ungodly noise as you stretched your still sleeping muscles, reaching over to shut it off. Breakfast started in 15 mins, reporting was mandatory. You used the restroom, brushed your teeth, washed your face with your standard issue bar of soap, which to be honest, didn't do much for skincare. It was more for sterilization than anything.

You combed your hair back into a low ponytail. Luckily the uniform regulations were much more relaxed here than your old base. Your hair only needed to be tied back in some form if it was past chin length, instead of the required sleek low bun most other military organizations required.

Putting on your uniform and double knotting your shoes, you opened your door and began walking to the mess. Almost running face first into a man with a mustache. You looked up to apologize and realized it was your father.

"Watch where you're going fatass," You joked. (A/N- please tell me yall got the mean girls reference.)

Your dad laughed, your footsteps fell in sync and the two of you walked to breakfast together.

"How was your first day of training with your Lieutenant?"

"I don't think I'm up to his standards," you confessed. Remembering Ghost's disapointment with you the day before

"Ah yeah, Ghost is tough to please. Don’t stress about it kid, if he’s mean to you it usually means he likes you,” He winked.

You rolled your eyes, “he doesn’t even think I belong here, he kicked my ass when we sparred.”

“Ghost is a great soldier, he’s incredibly strong and has seen a lot of hand to hand combat. He can be blunt, but it’s cause he wants to make you better, not boost your confidence,” your dad tries reassuring you.

“Thank you dad, but something tells me him and I won’t get along too well," your opinion unchanged.

He sighs, the two you enter the mess hall and fall into line.

"Speak of the devil," your dad says, lightly elbowing you.

you turned around to see Ghost and Soap had gotten in line behind you.

"Captain!" Soap exclaimed, with just a tad too much energy for 5 in the morning."

You looked up at him and grinned. He had shaved his face, which appeared to have shaved a decade off of his life.

"MacTavish!" Your father clapped him on the back. "You don't look a day over twelve," he teased.

The four of you laughed, the first time you've seen your lieutenant do anything of the sort.

Ghost caught your quizzical expression and quickly stopped, expression reducing to the same stone faced soldier you were growing familiar with.

"Ghost?" Soap wondered why he stopped laughing.

Soaps gaze switched from him to you.

"Oh," was all that came out of his mouth

You were confused, why wouldn't Ghost laugh around you?

Why did soap seem to instantly know why?

Ghost pov:

I was not about to let Y/N see my "human" side, maybe once she proves she can handle herself. I think as I fork bacon onto my tray.

I dared to steal a glance at her, she was back to talking and laughing with Soap and Price. It is odd seeing someone act so informal around him. I know he is her father and all, but everyone else acts so reverent towards him.

I am due to continue her training at 4:00 this afternoon. Dread fills my veins. I hate the thought of being in charge of the training that is designed to save someones life. What if I fail to teach her something that she needs in a dire situation? What if I am too soft on her and she remains weaker than her opponents.

No, that won't happen.

You will be hard on her, you will show no remorse, you won't feel bad. She is not your friend, she is your sergeant. I repeat this to myself in my head as we gather our trays and walk to the table. I ate in silence, paying little attention to the conversation. Gaz and Alejandro had joined us at this point. I stared down at the plate in front of me. The bacon here is nasty.

I wanted to leave. I hated it with Y/N here.

Its not that I don't like her, well actually maybe that is partially why.

But, when I look at her, its like seeing a child. Something that needs to be looked after, someone with a lot to learn, someone who isn't ready to face the world.

I stood up to leave without a word. I head towards the gym to get in a quick lift before the morning briefing.

"Simon!"

Soap had followed me

"Fucking hell" I said under my breath.

"You cant be a jackass to her forever," Johnny said, jogging to catch up with me.

"Until I can safely befriend her without having to worry about having to identify her body a week later I will be," I huffed.

"Simon, I know it hit you like a truck when Henry Jones, and Bill Anderson died, I know how you get when you hear about the death of anyone," he tried to reason.

"I know you always think it's your fault when something goes wrong. I know you want to protect everyone, and I know you don't mean to be an asshole." I looked at him from the corner of my eye.

"But not everyone else knows that," he continued. "Your colleagues are afraid of you. They think you're heartless. I know you aren't, the rest of the squad knows you aren't, well except Y/N.

Him and I walked the rest of the way in silence. I contemplated his words.

Your colleagues are afraid of you

"I don't want her to be afraid."

"Hm?" Soap turned his head

"Y/N, I don't want her to be afraid of me," I confirmed

"The mask sure isn't helping," Soap joked to break the tension. "Actually, keep it on- whats underneath is worse," he snickered.

"You bastard, I'm not ugly," I cracked a smile from beneath said mask.

Johnny has seen my face once, on a mission. I was sucker punched and it cracked.

"What does she think of me?" I say, curiosity besting me.

"She thinks you're a total dick."

"figured"

"You can fix that though," Soap said "It's pretty simple, maybe instead of beating the shit out of her to start training, you could ask how her day is going." He sarcastically adds

I roll my eyes, "I'm capable of friendship."

Soap laughs, "I'll put in a good word for you LT."

Smiling and shaking my head, I walk away.

[felice-jaganshi]

My Fallen Apple

Lucifer X Reader

Chapter 5

He seemed distant all day, and you didn't know why. “Hey, Lucifer, what's wrong? You don't seem like yourself.” He had been looking out a window at the city, it seemed more on fire than usual.

 

“Hm? Oh, nothing nothing, everything's fine!” He tried to smile at you, but it felt fake.

 

“Does it have to do with whatever that ‘extermination�� thing was last week? What even was that? And why couldn't I visit?”

 

“Wait, you… you don't know about the exterminations?” He was shocked. “The yearly massacre heaven conducts on Hell.”

 

“The what?!” You look shocked and horrified. “No, no one's ever said anything about that!”

 

“Oh fuck. So they just keep all the rest of you in the dark when Adam runs his little slaughter brigade every year?”

 

“Adam runs it?! Oh God, that makes so much sense. That fucking dickbag. I've got to tell everyone! They have to know what he's been doing!”

 

Lucifer suddenly grabs your shoulders, “whoa, whoa! Slow your roll there. That's not a good idea! You could get actually kicked out of heaven for telling anyone! Then… then you'd be stuck here with me. Forever.” His eyes filled with hurt, “I could never do that to you.”

 

You take his hands from your shoulders into yours, “What if I wanted to stay here with you?”

A blush spread across his face, “wha- Becca, I'm married, remember?”

 

“And she's been gone for seven years without a word! Is she really coming back? Besides, you need a friend you can rely on. Someone who's got your back no matter what.” You held his hands a little tighter. He sighed and squeezed back.

 

“I should push you away for your own good… while I still can. But… honestly I'm tired of being alone. So if you really want to stay as a friend , you can. I'll take responsibility for you and you can stay here in my palace.”

 

“Thank you. I'll just have to go back once more and get all my stuff. Next week, I'll move in, and our weekly hangouts can be daily.” You smile and he can't help but smile back, 

 

“yeah, that sounds… that sounds nice.” 

Suddenly, his phone rang and he pulled away, “augh, that ringtone.. sorry this one's important. Work stuff.” He looked at his phone contact and grimaced at it. “Hooo, okay… you can do this, just the biggest idiot you've ever met, and your eternal beloath-ed.” He took a deep breath and answered the call. “Adam. What? You literally just finished. What could you possibly- a fucking meeting? You can't just say what your ugly- HE HUNG UP ON ME?!! THAT BITCH!!” Suddenly Lucifer grew horns and a tail, a little fire lighting above his head. You squeak and jump back a bit. His devil form was out and… you know… the more you looked at it, the less scary and the more… attractive it actually was.

 

After he was done cursing the phone, he turned and looked at you, confused by your staring till he realized his horns were out. “Ah… uh, sorry. This happens when I get too angry.” He returned to his normal form. “I didn't scare you, did I? I promise, I'd never hurt you, I'm not that kinda guy.” He held his hands out in front of himself, pleading with you.

 

You shook off the shock and stepped closer, taking one of his hands. “No, no, I'm fine. I just… that form looks really nice.” You're blushing, you can feel it. And he sees it too.

 

“Oh! Oh. A heh… Well, thank you for thinking I look nice! That's a nice ego boost coming from someone as pretty as you.” He then realized he said that out loud! “I mean I um, hey excuse me a minute while i call my daughter!” He then ran off to hide from you in the palace.

You roll your eyes, well, at least he thinks you're pretty. That's a good first step. Probably the most important step will be getting him to accept Lilith's not coming back… but that would be a hard one. Ten thousand years they were together for… just taking 7 years apart for a break was a drop in the bucket for that long of a marriage. 

 

Regardless, the next step was to move in and act naturally. Get him comfortable around you, enough to introduce you to his daughter. That was something you only do when fully committed to keeping someone in your life. Plus, maybe Charlie will help with the “get over lilith” campaign you were going to eventually need to run.

You decide to wander the palace and see if you could find where Lucifer had disappeared to.

 

It took an hour before you found him curled up in his bed.

“Lucifer? What's wrong?”

“I- I'm a bad father…” He was trying not to sob, tears in his eyes as his head peeked out from a burrito of blankets.

 

“Hey now, what makes you say that?” You walk over and sit on the edge of his bed.

 

“I called her and asked her to talk to Adam for me! I can't even take care of my own shit!” You sigh and lay next to him, pulling him into a tight hug. “Oh you silly burrito… there, there.” You pull the blankets back enough to free his hair and play with it. Eventually the waterworks stop and he starts to calm down, looking sleepy. You can't help but giggle a little, “Uh oh, is it nap time for hell's king? Come on, let's get you back up on the pillows at least.” You adjust him back up with ease and get him comfy before draping one of your own wings over him. He actually starts purring as his eyes close.

 

“Hm… you'd make a great mother.” He said sleepily, and your eyes tear up. You can't help it, and you keep playing with his hair. 

 

“Thank you… I tried very hard in life.” His eyes open back up, and he looks at you in a moment of wonder and curiosity, but decides not to bring up something that might cause you more pain. You two just enjoy a peaceful moment in each others company till you both fall asleep. 

[saintsir4n]

UNTIL WE MEET AGAIN

Teasers:

Wattpad Story link

TikTok edit

Tommy, trying for his daughters

Tommy, will deal with it

Tommy and his suspicions

Tommy is the devil

Tommy, needing to be with his girls

Opinions:

Tommy Shelby stories

Writing POCs into period pieces

Story:

Prologue cast list 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

15 16 17 18 19 20 Epilogue Bonus chapter

One shots:

Smut:

Fluff:

More Shelby’s

Cheeky girl

Happy without me

Hold on

Three little birds

Angst:

Betrayed

Death becomes you

One time