#my voice sounds horrid to my ears as well

[mitamicah]

I feel like I should probably put it here as well:

[immoralgirl]

f!reader, rough!! smut under the cut.

madara uchiha never really paid much attention to you. yeah, he’d spare you a glance every now and then whenever he’d meet with hashirama. you were his sister, after all.

hashirama senju’s sister… you had always been a cute girl, “secretly” spying on him and your brother whenever they’d play.

did you really think that you were being sneaky?

however, that was years ago. you’re older now, more mature. (and better at hiding, go you!)

yeah, you’re much older now, no longer the little girl you once were. and madara knew that, he knew it very well.

he also knew about your little crush on him.

at first, it disgusted him- the thought of a senju girl liking him, he could nearly vomit! hashirama’s sister, no less. that was until he began to pay more attention to you.

like the way your eyes grew sharper whenever fighting, or the way a smile creeps its way onto your face whenever you’re with your brothers.

he couldn’t help but think you’re cute.. but way too close to your brothers.

so, what else could he do but take you away from them? he’d strip away your innocence and return you to your family, it’s the least he could do after ruining you.

“mad-a-ra!” your voice was hoarse from all the screaming you’d done that night, each word being called out in syllables with each harsh thrust.

madara’s large hands were perched on your waist, his hips snapping roughly into yours as he bullied his thick cock into your gummy walls.

each moan and whimper that left your pretty little mouth was horrid, and that just fuelled the burning flame in both of your guts.

“yes, what is it senju?” madara groaned out, fucking into your further as his hands drifted to your hips, tightening his grip.

you were hashira’s sister, but damn did you have a good pussy. better than any other he’d ever came in.

“t-too much!” you mewl loudly, back arching off of the bed, your words falling on deaf ears as madara just pounded into you harder and faster.

at this point, you had came around 3 times, and madara hadn’t even come close.

a creamy white ring of your cum coated his cock, the squelching sounds of each thrust bouncing off of the walls.

“too much?” he huffed in response, thrusting into you a little harder, his hand smacking down against your hip.

“mmh- mhm!” you nod desperately, moans spilling out of your lips with each plunge of his cock.

he simply scoffed out a chuckle, pulling you closer to him as he fucked even harder, he couldn’t care less if it was “too much” he’d fuck you for as long as he pleases.

soon enough, he grew closer and closer to his realise, groans leaving his lips in little pants as his pace grew sloppier, thrusts a little slower.

you moaned and writhed beneath him, a whine leaving your lips as madara came in you, his hot and sticky cum being fucked back into you with the next few thrusts.

he then flipped you over onto your stomach, his rough hand smacking down against your ass, then reaching over to your head where he shoved your face into the covers. his other hand was perched on your hip, pulling you so you’re face down, and ass up. just how he likes it.

he then sinks his cock right back into your sopping cunt, relishing in the way you’re still so wet.

you moan out, voice muffled by the bedsheets as your hands clutch onto the bedsheets, body moving with each thrust of madara’s hips.

it was disgusting, really. the way he’d lean down close to your ear, his hot breath moist against your skin.

“who knew hashirama’s sister was such a slut?” he’d tease, a smirk on his lips as he thrust into you a little harder. “what would he think if he saw you here, your sweet little pussy dripping with my cum.”

who could blame you when you came at the sound of his words, frantic moans leaving your mouth with each hard thrust. his large dick fucked into you further, his grunts and groans echoing against the room.

your back arched further, with madara’s large hand pushing your face further into the bedsheets as he began to grow closer again.

something about the sight of you like this, in such a.. dirty, position, was just so enticing.

“you want my baby? an uchiha baby? take it, take my seed,” madara grunted with a rough thrust of his hips, madara came inside you once again, a loud groan leaving his lips as he tilted his head back in pleasure. “thaaatt’s it, fuck.” he’d sigh.

senju pussy was so, so good.

you came soon after him, moaning breathlessly as he rode out his high.

after a few minutes, you finally collapsed, body limp.

[gfmima]

category : 米哈游 原神 work title : he just wants ALL of your attention on him

the idea of arguing with him sounds horrid. he was too witty to triumphantly bicker against in a quarrel, too composed for your emotional disposition, and too sensible to entertain mindless squabble. it was absurd to witness some poor soul dare to bother butting heads with him. you weren’t a part of the akademiya yet even you recognized what a giant dimwit the man made himself out to be.

the end goal was unclear.

from what you noted, he was attempting to one-up tighnari with his own set of knowledge on the flora of teyvat. it was excruciating to feast upon, the secondhand embarrassment was urging you to save yourself by exiting the room and you would’ve, if it were not for the obnoxious grip your lover had around your waist.

“is it?” you hear tighnari question; despite the dry tone, you can pick up the faintest slither of ridicule in his voice. your brows furrow. it was uncharacteristic for him to mess with a person like predator to its prey. for the most part, he settled on speaking his thoughts outright.

“i — actually, find the dendrobiums of narukami island the most fascinating portion of my inazuma venture,” the cretin boasts, eyes darting towards you to survey your reaction. this does not go unnoticed by the man beside you, it drives him to further make a fool out of him.

his ears perk up.

“i see… what do you make of the silk flowers on watatsumi island?”

the moron didn’t wince, his arrogance sprouts two times its size. he genuinely believed he had managed to deceive the well-renowned forest watcher. “it was simply divine! i was in awe with all the wonders inazuma bears, however, i do must say! the flowers of the nation don’t compare to the blossom gracing our presence right now.”

he turns to you in hopes of seeing he had charmed you with his words. to his horror, he was met with the chilling glare of your lover. “if i may, i’ll excuse myself,” he bids, but gets not a single reply.

tighnari, uncaring if the man was within earshot, huffs then shakes his head in distaste. his ears sway from the sluggish action. “what a farce,” he snarls under his breath, and tightens his grasp on your body. he stands near enough for you to feel the annoyed wagging of his tail behind you.

“then why bother entertaining him?” you were confused. no matter what side you perceived, it made no sense overall. he stares back incredulously, as if he was flabbergasted you didn’t gather the obvious attraction that imbecile expressed for you earlier. “he wasn’t worth your time, my love.”

“were you expecting me to let him continue with his pitiable advances towards you?” he retorts in faux mockery. what a drama queen, you scoff, turning to respond when he swiftly pulls you closer against his frame.

“setting his idiocies aside, he was correct about one thing.” you can feel his breath whisper near your ear. “your beauty does not compare to all the flowers in teyvat.”

if anyone who has the great pleasure of meeting your lover knows one thing, it’s how difficult he was to read. the centuries he had spent on his own granted him all this time to perfect it. to his dismay, it all came crumbling under one outlandish swoop.

to atone for his atrocities, he was subjected to an indefinite sentence of social welfare related duties. today, he was stranded with the ‘nerds’ and ‘geeks,’ or so he fondly labels the akademiya. according to you, a couple alchemists from mondstadt traveled this way to divulge their discoveries and most importantly, meet him. they were intrigued by the extent of his knowledge of the world, wishing to interview him, but none would dare reveal that rumors of his artificial origins are what prompted it.

he was idly wandering the halls of the grand building, which took hefty coaxing from you, when a lost scholar, delivering the guest’s belongings, stumbles into him and soaks him in an unknown liquid. a potion?

one thing led to another and nahida was kind enough to let him rest within the confines of his private quarters with you until the effects wore off.

an archons, was it an interesting experience.

he wasn’t an affectionate young man, he often reminds you, yet has the gall to get upset when you don’t coddle him. disastrously, due to his current… predicament, his ears and tail gave it away and he hated it. he couldn’t stop muttering profanities directed towards the “twit of a chief alchemist and his goons” throughout the passing hours.

a knock on the door snags your focus and your lover whines over the feeling of your warmth leaving him.

much to your surprise, it was none other than the subject of your discussion. while you are committed to your relationship, you aren't blind to the young man’s looks. from his doll-like features to his tender demeanor, irregardless of preference, he was objectively attractive.

wanderer, on the other hand, was beginning to grow greatly impatient. you were taking far too long to check who was at the door. ears flat against the crown of his head, he courses after you and blanches at the introduction of a new scent.

he squeezes himself by your side, setting distance between you and the man, who you’ve come to know is albedo.

“what do you want?” he sneers, with narrowed eyes; his tail snakes around your waist, towing you closer to his body and away from this stranger.

“nothing. i came here to introduce myself and apologize for what happened earlier. though, it was a delight meeting you and…” scaramouche doesn’t bother answering, shutting the door on his face instead

“hey! that was very rude! have you lost your min—” he cuts you off immediately by nuzzling his face in the crook of your neck, effectively silencing you.

“you don’t need to know any other man besides me.”

[sweetbearbakery]

It was my heart you stole.

Warnings: Mention of murder and violence, desperate sukuna, angst, fluff, toxic sukuna, sukuna x y/n.

Sukuna was the king of curses, ‘Lord Sukuna’ the common folk and peasants called him. Feared by all, well not all. You worked under Sukuna, being his most favored and loved concubine. At one point you had asked a guard where the other concubines went.

“They were executed by Lord Sukuna himself.” The guard responded with a cold voice as he looked down at you, scoffing and walking away. Later you had found out that he had also died.

You and Sukuna had an oddly amazing relationship, although as expected, it was a bit toxic. He would always have a guard follow you anywhere when you stepped outside of his or your chambers. He was overprotective of you, very much so that he killed any other guards that looked at you the wrong way or talked to you in the wrong tone. If he wasn't busy with his duties, he would be pulling you around with him, or locking you up with him in his chambers. Sometimes he'd even take you to important meetings. You had grown fond of Sukuna, no, you loved him now. The strange thing was, he acted like he loved you back

But then the horrid day came, the day Sukuna found you crying on your plush bed. Holding onto a pillow as you cried. Immediately concerned but not wanting to seem weak or vulnerable, he stood in the doorway, his arms crossed. “ Hey, woman. What happened?”

You flinched at his voice, tears still running over your cheeks as you sat up. Looking at him with a look of desperation, sadness, and unwellness. Your voice shaking, your hands balling up the soft pillow. “ Kuna…..You're getting married? M-Married?!?” He looked at you, his eyes widening a bit as he sighed. Pinching the bridge of his nose with a small shake of his head. “ I knew you'd find out one way or another. “

Horror filled your eyes, were you no use to him anymore? Was he going to throw you away? Kill you? All you could think of was the worst, who was this woman anyway? The whole thing made your body visibly trembling, your tear stained cheeks overlapping with more tears as you started to cry more.

Sukuna looked at you, his face somewhat softening. He closed and locked your door, walking over and sitting on the bed next to you. His four arms pulling you into a string and caring embrace. “y/n……I still love you. This marriage is only arranged, don't fright. Marrying this woman is the best decision for the kingdom right now.” He said, rubbing your back with one hand and another pet your hair gently.

You pushed him away, standing up as you dried your tears. “ You know what the worst thing is ‘Kuna? She came in here this morning and introduced herself as your wife! Then continued to tell me that I was her maid of honor!”

Sukuna looked at you, his expression a mix of anger and longing. Putting his hand on your shoulder but you just swatted it off. You weren't just upset, you were jealous, angry. “ Yet, I know I shouldn't be affected by it! I mean, you can't be jealous over someone who isn't yours!”

He stood up, grabbing your chin as he looked over you. Looking at you with a pissed expression. “ y/n l/n. That woman means nothing to me, she is not of importance. So don't you dare push me away when all I'm doing is trying to comfort my love-” A snap sound came to Sukuna, cutting him off. A red handprint on his cheek, enraged as he looked at you. Your hand stung, your breath caught in your throat. Backing up as your hands trembled

“ ‘K-Kuna, I'm so sorry. It just happened. I don't know why I did that. Please I'm sorry….” The voice of horror and fear echoed in his ears. Stepping closer as he loomed over your shaking body. Scoffing as he saw you, how desperate you were to get his forgiveness.

“Pathetic woman, I gave you a chance, I told you I love you, and this is how you repay me?!? By slapping me?!?” He said as he pushed you against the wall, tilting your chin up, watching as new tears ran over your old ones. “Maybe I should stop loving you and love my fiance instead.” He scoffed, letting go of your chin and walking out, slamming your door behind him.

Your body crumpled up as you fell to the floor, your body shivering into a ball. Only wanting to be in the comfort of Sukuna’s caring touch. Thinking about how the wedding was only in two days.

Over those two days you avoided Sukuna as much as you could. Not speaking to him at lunch hours, not looking at him during meetings, and staying in your room when you didn't have to eat or use the bathroom. Locking yourself up, not even talking to the guards, just curled up in your nest of plush pillows and blankets. Thinking about how Sukuna had gained feelings for his fiance by now. How you were probably just going to be used as his worthless toy from now on. Although, those thoughts all changed the day of the wedding.

You were getting changed into your bridesmaids dress on your room. Looking in the mirror and doing your makeup, fixing your hair. Hearing a knock on the door as you get up, answering the door. Sukuna was never big on physical affection or touch. Although, here he was, hugging you tightly as soon as you opened the door.

After hugging you he had stepped inside, locking and closing the door behind him. Looking at you as he took your hands in his, his cold gaze admirering your beauty. “You look…Absolutely gorgeous, my dear.” He said, being affectionate all of a sudden. His thumb rubbing the back of your hand. A soft smile tugging at the corners of his lips. Leaning in to kiss you.

Surprised, you knew it was wrong. Pulling out of his grasp and walking back till you were sitting on your couch. “Sukuna…..You shouldn't be here…..Let alone doing this…” You said as you looked up at him, walking over to you. Closing your eyes, scared he might yell at you or hit you.

Although, when you opened them, he wasn't standing there. Looking down, you were greeted by Sukuna, his face in your dress as he sniffled, holding onto the side of your dress. Was he shaking? Let alone crying? “ Please y/n…..I can't marry this woman…..I want to marry you, we can run away and live a perfect life. Please…..please take me back.”

You looked down at him, shocked as he lifted his head to look at you. His expression was desperate, soft, caring. What the hell happened to him? With a soft palm and a gentle touch, you began to pet his hair. “ Shh, slow down ‘Kuna…..what happened?” You asked curiously, sceptical of his intentions.

“M…..My fiance, sh…..she….I saw her cheating in me…..I went to go check on her and she was fucking another man…..I mean…I never loved her but….a woman cheating on me? ME? I……it made me realize that I should have never treated you so badly.” He said, he was a whimpering, crying, desperate mess. Melting beneath your own touch.

You cupped his face and sighed, rubbing his cheeks softly “ ‘Kuna….I really don't know what to say to you….” He looked at you immediately and took your hands, tears running down his cheeks. “ Please y/n just take me back, please i need you. I'm nothing without you, please!”

To be continued……

(Hello! I'll be writing a part where you accept and one where you decline. Once I finish them both, they be linked to this post.)

@genderfluidnuggettt

[trendywaifus]

↳ i have dreams that lives in my nightmares!

everyone described the ruthless freddy krueger to be a vengeful spirit seen as a disfigured man. one night after falling asleep, you were finally able to come face to face with the urban legend.

↳ featuring, dream demon! kafka

—cw, fem! sub! reader, oral sex (fem! reader receiving), fingering (fem receiving), dub–con, mentions of scars, not proofread

after falling victim to slumber, you found yourself what it looks like to be in an empty museum full of fog. “ a. .museum? “ you questioned, anxiety gradually swelling in the pits of your stomach. like the fog, the atmosphere was thick with ominous silence. you walked down the large hallways blindly, catching glimpses of bizarre paintings and artifacts displayed along the walls. there was a particular painting of a spider seemingly stuck in the midst of its own web.

“ whoever made this museum has actual issues. “

breathy laughter echoes through the walls of the empty museum. “ oh really? you wound me, i happen to put this together myself. “ the voice drawls before humming a familiar tune. wait, was that summer and winter? you were unsure of the direction from where the voice is coming from. but as each moment passed, her humming got louder and louder. it felt like she was in your head, luring you in a hypnotic trance. you were starting to get a bit dizzy.

but then, a horrid sound of metal scratches against a harsh surface. “ oh, fuck. i think i should just get on my knees and start praying. “ you muttered as the steady sound of heels clanked across the tile floor ahead of you. a tall silhouette comes into view through the fog. but what made your heart nearly burst out of your chest was the shadows of her stretched arms disproportionately reached further along the walls as if they were wings.

“ actually, never mind! i should start running! “ you quickly turned around to make a run for it but her voice stops you.

“ stay. “

on her command, your body stops itself in its tracks. no matter how hard you struggled, you couldn’t even take a step forward. immediately after, a delicate hand runs up your back and rests on your shoulder; you shivered. “ good girl. as much as i enjoy the game cat and mouse, i wanna finally see that pretty face of yours up close and personal first. “ she purrs in your ear before walking in front of your frozen body to see your face.

“ holy. .” you were memorized by the tall beauty towering over you. beautiful lilac eyes, long, silky purple tresses stopping below her breasts, red lips curled up in a deceivingly warm smile; she was out of this world (figuratively and literally!). no alleged burn marks etched to her skin, instead it was creamy and flawless. she adorned a white, long sleeve collar shirt, black dress pants, and heels. you were ripped away from your admiring when a long, sharp metal claw gently runs along your jaw, careful not to tear skin.

“ mmh, it’s such a shame a little dove like yourself got caught into my web. “

“ a-and it’s such a shame that i’ve never gotten to meet such a beautiful woman like you until now.“ you blurted out.

a genuine look of surprise flashed on her pale features before she lets out a soft laugh. “ well, i didn’t expect you to be quite the charmer, little dove. i’ve been watching you for quite some time. “

you give her a confused look. “ but why me? “ her smile stretches wider with mischievousness, she tucks a loose strand of hair behind your ear. “ i will say this, human lust and desire are known to be so strong that the brain translates them into the most interesting fantasies which are called— “

“ w-wet dreams. .“ you stuttered, heat rising into your cheeks. is she implying that the only reason she was watching you was because of your wet dreams? you don’t know if you should be embarrassed or weirded out. the woman laughs out of no where, “ you should be more so embarrassed, darling. you have quite the wildest dreams that even i was taken back from. but to answer your question, hardly. i’m really here for you. “

your brows furrow with confusion.” did you just read my mind? “ she teasingly smile at you, bending down a bit to lean closer to your face. you swallowed thickly. “ yes. anyways, how about this, “ she draws closer to your face until hers lips are nearly touching yours. “ let me have some fun with you and i’ll let you go. you wouldn’t mind that since this is one of your fantasies, no? “

fuck, why did she have to see my dreams? you thought, shyly adverting your gaze down at the floor. amused, she lifts your chin up with a gloved finger; forcing you to return eye contact with her. your knees nearly turned jelly under her roguish eyes. “ and, if. .i don’t, you’ll kill me right? “ you questioned, voice barely under a whisper.

she hums thoughtfully, “ well, I would say yes but since it’s you, i’d rather not. you caught my attention after all, sweetheart. “ she presses her red lips against yours, running her tongue over your bottom lip. her hands which were now strangely bare, roams your body delicately as if you were one of her most prized artifacts. a shiver runs down your spine as her cool hand slips under your shirt and massages the warm skin under it with her thumb. you couldn’t help but feel excitement course through you.

“ now, what will it be? i can practically sense your desire for me. “ she chuckles against your lips. bewitched by her kisses and honeyed–filled voice, you whisper, “ y-yes, as long as you let me go after.” thrilled by your answer, she smiles wider, this time, revealing her fangs which prods your lips. “ atta girl. oh! before we continue, despite what humans call me, i prefer “kafka.” i’m afraid the original freddie had to put down his hat. “

you narrowed your gaze. ‘freddie?’ as in the urban legend freddy krueger? who could of possibly thought she was freddy? or even his replacement? where did he even go? “ and why are you telling me this? “

with a flick of her wrist, the setting changes and you’re now back in your bedroom. you assume it was conjured up by kafka. “ because i don’t want you screaming out the wrong name of course. “

before you can react, you land butt first on the mattress. kafka situates herself on the bed and between your legs. her long slender fingers reaches for the waistband of your pajamas and slides them down your legs and off your feet. she licks her lips at the damp spot staining your panties. “ i haven’t properly touched you yet and you’re already excited.”

too flustered to respond to her lewd comment, you let her pull off your cotton panties; giving her a delicious view of your dripping pussy. she runs a digit along your folds, coating it with your juices. “ so wet.” kafka purrs, delving her face further between your legs. her warm tongue presses flat against your clit before enclosing her lips around it. “ sh-shit. .! “ you gasped, curling your toes in pleasure as she starts sucking on the senstive bud. her index finger teases your entrance before sliding inside.

your cunt squeezes around her as if it was welcoming her. now knuckles—deep inside, she drags her long, slender finger in and out of your hole. all you could do was squirm and buckle your hips, hoping the graceful entity can relieve the aching knot in your abdomen. kafka retracts her mouth away from your bundle of nerves with a soft pop. she smirks, “ i haven’t added in another finger and yet you’re squirming as if i’m using three on you. here then.” you felt two finger enter your core, filling and stretching you out even further.

you let out a loud moan, throwing your head back in ecstasy as her well—manicured nails rubs against the spongy spot of your walls. “ r-right there, kafka! please! “ you babbled, throwing her a desperate look. kafka says nothing and grants your wish, curling her fingers right where you want it while her thumb idly plays with your clit in circular motions; driving you right over the edge. “ fuck, fuck, i’m gonna—“

to your utter disappointment, she pulls back, fingers covered in your slick. kafka laughs at the look of betrayal and confusion on your cute face. “ sorry, darling. i just had to do it. “ you forgot you were messing around with a being who loves to trick and torment people for her own pleasure. still in a daze, you tried your best to glare at her. “ don’t give me that look, pretty thing. lay on your back for me, i promise i won’t do it again. “

hesitant, you laid down on your back. kafka gently spreads your legs open for more space before going back in. she places her hands on your inner thighs, holding them apart. kafka observes how your slick pools from your pussy. delighted by the sight, she drawls, “ i’m just itching to get a taste darling. “

you stifle back a moanful groan as her tongue licks down along your folds in broad strokes. kafka emits a satisfied hum from tasting your essence on her tongue. she enters straight in, brushing her wet muscle down your gummy walls. “ god, kafka. .!” you moaned, feeling her tongue skillfully pump into your aching cunt. she pushes her face closer, nudging the bundle of nerves with her nose.

arching your back in pleasure, the familiar tension in your stomach returns as she continues to fuck you with her tongue. “ sh-shit, it’s coming back! “ you tried to enclose your thighs around her head but she easily keeps them in place. kafka firmly squeezes at the supple flesh, silently urging you to cum. “ c-cumming, kafka! “ you nearly screamed, your walls pulsates around her tongue and not a moment after, moderate amounts of cum dribbles out of your hole and in her mouth.

“ you taste wonderful, pretty thing. better than any wine i’ve once tasted. “ kafka greedily licks your slick and cum from her slightly–smudged red lips. you panted heavily, legs jelly from your climax. she sits upright to unbutton her collar shirt, your eyes widens in astonishment as she does; the skin that was previously covered was littered with scars and horrific markings. it was as if she has gone through extreme torture at some point in time. an unreadable expression settles on her face as she gauges your reaction.

smiling blankly, kafka expected you to scream or attempt to scramble away in terror but you didn’t. perhaps you were too fatigued to even move. but, searching in your tired eyes, she sees a sliver of pity in them. it was something she hadn’t seen in a very long time because all she was use to was fear, anger, and many other negative emotions she strikes into her victims. “ d-don’t give me that look, you know i can’t run away even if i tried, kafka. b-besides, ” you continued, averting your gaze away from her eyes awkwardly, “ e-even someone like you was once caught in someone else’s web so i can’t say i’m horrified of that. “

kafka smiles once more but this time, laced with amusement. she tosses her unbuttoned shirt to the side and dips down to whisper in your ear. her hot breath fans against your skin. “ keep being this interesting and cute, darling and i’ll appear in every dream of yours until you wish you no longer have the ability to sleep. “

[radio-writes]

I'll go with:

"You win"

"Why should I stay?"

"And what will you do? Run from me?"

It Seems the Devil and I Walked Hand in Hand

300 Followers Event

Warnings: Forced cannibalism, gore, murder, stockholm syndrome

Tags: Alastor x reader, GN reader, yandare, reader goes insane, dead dove do not eat

MDNI

A humid breeze blew through your hair, the putrid stench of Hell carried with it. Somewhere in the distance, something—whatever it may be this time—exploded, prompting usual screams of terror.

But your heart fluttered, eyes fixated on your friend next to you. You sat side by side with them, on a random hilltop the two of you stumbled upon. It was quiet, but barely out of the chaos of the main pentagram. 

"What? What is it?" They laughed as they finally called you out on your staring.

You almost swooned as their warm brown eyes met yours. "You just have the prettiest set of eyes in all of Hell, that's all."

You had been so proud of that. So happy about how smooth you were at the delivery. Giddy about the blush that crept onto your friend's face.

The same warm brown eyes—Hell's prettiest, as Alastor so kindly reminded you—stared back at you now. 

Unseeing.

Without its owner's head anywhere near.

On a plate placed before you.

Your blood felt like ice as you hung your head low. Unable to think. Unable to feel. Unable to breathe, maybe, you weren't really sure anymore.

"Afraid I might have gotten carried away, dear. I was absolutely starving since you stood me up on our lunch meeting." Alastor's tone was as bright and cheerful as it always was—you could almost argue that it was even happier now. "Of course, I did save you their eyes. I knew how much you just loved them."

He continued on, sighing and swooning about this and that. How it had been a while since he had such a satisfying meal. How it was all thanks to you for leading him to it. How he can't wait to meet more of your friends—if you ever managed to make any after the show he put on for you.

But you sat still, mind unable to comprehend what actually sat in front of you. Alastor might as well have been talking from three rooms away for all you heard from him. His voice almost sounding like it came from underwater, barely able to pierce through the fog in your head.

It was only when the demon who sat across from you stabbed a fork through an eyeball on your plate, did your senses come back. Like a flipped switch, you could hear well again, in time to hear the disgusting squish of the organ, blood and fluids spilling as it was stabbed.

"Don't let it go cold now, my dear. I went through so much trouble to get them intact and still warm for you." Alastor smiled as he sat across you.

One of his elbows rested on the table, hand cradling his cheek as you met his gaze. The gleeful, cold red eyes sickened you much more than the gore he held up. He raised the fork to you. Your friend's eye at the end of it. "Say Aaah~"

You pressed your lips together. Whether to resist the cruel torture, or to keep the bile from coming out, you were unsure. 

Like a stubborn child, you shook your head, arms pushing against the table to get up from your seat. Alastor was behind you in seconds, dissolving and rematerializing through shadows faster than you could blink.

"Nuh uh, dearest. We don't waste good food in this Hotel. What would the papers say if they find out we throw away such scarce resource?" He pressed his body against the back of your chair, securing you back at the table with an easy push.

He leaned over your shoulder, long arms reached around you. You stared as his clawed hands planted themselves on the table in front of you, caging you in, framing that horrid plate.

You felt his breath by your ear, that horribly familiar static prickled your skin, before you heard him speak. "You know, I'm starting to think you like how your friends taste."

You swallowed against your dry throat, eyes wide. Every breath you took was shallow as you tried to shake your head only to be met with a mocking laugh.

"No? Come now, why lie, my dear? It's only us here." Alastor leaned closer over you. The heat of his body inescapable. "This is the third friend this month. Even a child would have learned by now." 

"I'm all you need, darling. Everyone else is just cattle." His voice distorted as he spoke, a threat, a promise, you knew from experience that he'd deliver on.

Faintly you could feel the weight of metal around your neck. It wasn't physically there, no. After all, it's been a while since you've given him a reason to summon that chain. But it never really ever felt absent, specially at times like this.

You sighed in resignation, and braced yourself for that familiar horrible taste. Your hands clenched into fists on your lap—a sight that delighted the demon behind you.

"You win." You said softly. Numbly, you parted your lips, mind wandering away as you let Alastor slide the fork into your slack mouth. You ignored what it was you were chewing, letting your body function through the motions as you fought to keep your thoughts else were. 

You felt a large hand pat your head, bringing you back to the present in time to hear Alastor's praise. "What a good pet you make, my dear."

The plate before you was empty now, Alastor's looming figure having retreated away from your shaking one, back in his seat in front of you.

The horrible rotten taste still lingered in your mouth, but you didn't bother to ask for something to wash it away. You simply stood up, ready to run to your room and force yourself to throw up—again.

"Hm? Running from me now, are we?" Alastor's brows raised as he watched you. "Not that you can, I own you, after all." 

You suspected his words were less of a reminder for you, and more on just him loving to say them.

"And why should I stay?" Your words seemed argumentative, but your tone and the hunch of your shoulders were anything but. "I've already finished my punishment."

"I would say it was more of a treat, really. You have no idea how much I wanted to eat those." He laughed, not really minding that you just stared back blankly at him.

"Besides, you've yet to pay me back for leaving me waiting at Rosie's. So come, sit." An invitation to most, an order to you.

So sat you did. You ignored the smudges of blood on the plate still in front of you. You ignored the bitter taste the that lingered in your mouth. You ignored the growing numbness spreading from your chest to the rest of your limbs.

You ignored yourself.

Mindlessly, you nodded along to whatever gossip Alastor had, almost immediately, began sharing with you.

Alastor's hold on you had tightened in the past few months. Not only had he pulled you away from the people at the hotel—you were apparently terribly ill, contagious, but fine under his care—but he had also confiscated your phone and TV.

The window in your room was also simply magicked away. He didn't want you getting any funny ideas of leaving him again, after all.

At first you were fine with it. You had a few books in your room, anyway. But after the first two weeks, you've already finished most of them.

Still, they kept you entertained for a little longer after that; you didn't really mind rereading them—for the fourth time, you think.

But then you had that fight with Alastor. You had asked for your phone back, desperate to know what was going on outside your room. Desperate to listen to your music. Desperate to hear another voice aside from your own.

Alastor merely waved off your concern. He let you keep his radio after all. You could simply listen to him. He talked about current events, and played music, and broadcasted all sorts of screams voices. You didn't need anything else.

He didn't quite take it nicely when you had spat that it wasn't enough.

In the fray that followed, your books were lost. Torn to shreds in seconds.

But no matter, you had thought. You still had some paper, a pencil, some paint. While you weren't the best artist around, you doodled the hours away, anyway. Coloring, sketching, filling out every plain, empty gap on the papers you had.

You were quickly running out of material, though. You'd repeatedly ask Alastor to get you more paper, another pencil, even an eraser, every time he came by. But all he kept saying was that he forgot to fetch some, and that he will surely do so next time.

You were always disappointed, but knew better than to start another fight. You didn't want to risk destroying what little paint you had left, after all.

You had began to doodle on your walls. Counting the little details on the wallpaper, even each and crack along your way. You had drawn everything you ever knew existed; from characters you used to liked when you were alive to a freaking sock on the floor. 

The friends he made you eat.

Hastily covered with a drawing of a deer.

By his next visit, Alastor was appalled by the state of your room. He didn't quite appreciate your vandalism. He promptly snapped his fingers and the walls were replaced. Your drawings gone, the wallpaper gone, even the cracks were gone. It was now just a smooth red surface. 

He had taken away the paint, not that there was much left at that point. You thought it was fair anyway, considering you did draw on the walls like an irresponsible child.

You tried cleaning too, just to keep your mind going, your body moving. But no, no, no. Alastor couldn't have his dear friend, and a valued hotel guest, doing such menial labor. 

He easily cleaned the room for you, not a speck of dust left. Barely any furniture left too—he had found them tacky, apparently.

At that point all you had to look forward to were Alastor's visits. Constant, they were. He insisted he brought you your food personally, of course.

You had been suspicious about what he was feeding you, even once outright questioning what you were eating.

He had laughed. "Unless you made any new friends from this room, I can assure you, you aren't eating any sinners, my dear."

You weren't sure how much his assurance was worth, but food was one of the only two things you actually had here. You didn't feel like giving that up, too.

You hated him. Hated him for keeping you here. Hated him for ignoring all your pleas to be let out.

You hated him, but still found yourself jumping from your bed as soon as you heard the door handle rattle. 

You hated him, but him coming to visit meant you had something to do.

The radio by your bed, and Alastor's frequent visits were all you had left.

The isolation was driving you insane, broken only whenever Alastor wanted to.

Alastor was driving you insane, but without him you were completely isolated.

Your sanity felt like a candle burning at both ends, melting far too fast for you to keep it together. You didn't know anymore which torture you preferred. Alastor's presence or absence?

At least, that was a few weeks back.

Because it wasn't like you needed to choose now.

Your food had been appearing on your side table every meal time, instead of coming in carried by the familiar demon.

The radio beside you had been silent for a long while now. Not one terrified scream, not one jazzy tune, not even empty static. 

And of course, Alastor himself hadn't come in to see you in weeks.

You think it's been weeks, at least. He took the clock with him last time he cleaned.

No, there was no need to pick your poison anymore. Alastor had chosen for you.

At first, you had been bitter. How dare he ignore you—or did he forget about you? God, no, he wouldn't. Right? —how dare he not even check in to see if you were even still alive.

How dare he not visit.

And then, you were worried. It was one thing for him not to pop in on you, another thing entirely to miss his shows. He'd never miss an opportunity to broadcast fear over Pride Ring, but your radio had been quiet this whole time. What was keeping him, then? Was he hurt? Was he okay?

Then, and you think it was the worst of them all, you started to miss him. From the moment you woke from restless slumber, your eyes fixated on the door handle, begging it to turn. Your chest ached, praying to hear his silly staticy voice again, even if it was just senseless gossip.

You felt like screaming, begging, pounding on the door for him to visit you. But you knew he wouldn't like that. No, if the others in the hotel found out, Alastor would likely never visit you ever again. 

So you kept to your bed. Your days spent glaring down at the door in desperation, switching only to the radio to do the same, for hours on end. Every little shift you made, the sheets moving under you, felt so deafeningly loud in the empty room.

It was almost maddening.

"My dear, I have a task for you." Alastor's cheery voice spoke up by your ear.

Your eyes snapped open, greeted by the sight of the demon leaning over your head.

"Nothing too difficult, just a little grocery shopping." He continued on as if he hadn't left you to rot.

You didn't care, nor did you register what his words meant. No, the first thing your body jumped to, your mind went to, was that Alastor was here.

"Al!" The glee in your voice unrestricted as you pushed your sheets away and threw your arms around him. The relief, the absolute refreshment, of feeling another warm body against you again was almost heavenly.

A soft hand patted at your shoulder as he awkwardly stayed there. "Well, good morning to you too, sweetheart." He laughed.

You sat up, eyes wide as you leaned away and took him in. Unmistakably, a very welcomed sight.

He told you about the chore he needed done, truly very simple. Just a literal grocery list. But you held onto every word, every charming staticy syllable falling from his lips as if he was preaching your religion. 

You were determined to memorize it all, not just to complete the task but to simply engrave his voice in your head.

You were so thankful to finally hear something other than your creaky bed. To finally be having a conversation again. To feel human.

It hadn't even click for you that you will finally be heading out.

You were quick in getting the task done, determined to get back to Alastor as fast as you could.

You hadn't notice how your skin thawed in the outside heat compared to the icy room you've been locked in. You hadn't paid mind to everyone's greetings around you. You didn't care for all the flashing lights, and tasty smells, and loud music and laughter and screams around you as finished you little assignment.

You wanted to get things done so you could be by the familiar demon again. His presence almost felt like a drug you've been deprived off for so long, that it physically irked you to be away.

And that's how it was from then on.

You were given a new room at the hotel. Alastor had replaced all the books he destroyed because he just felt so guilty. He had also finally remembered to buy you all those papers and art supplies you asked him to get you. And he had even returned your phone and television to you.

Not that you cared for any of those. You've spent most of your time in Alastor's room anyway, unable to stand a second without hearing his voice. 

You'd cling onto every word he'd say, attentive, obsessed.

Your eye would twitch every time he'd mention someone, anyone. Part of you irritated that he had spent time with someone else other than you. Even more so that he cared enough to remember their name. To say their name.

Soon you not only clung onto his words, but onto him as well. Unable to stand that others spent time with him when you could not. You'd miss meals, miss sleep, drop whatever you were doing to follow him wherever he went. To stay by Alastor's side. 

When he forbade you from doing so, you would follow in secret, or have your own little ways to spy on him. To know what he was doing.

The few times you were away from your owner's side, you could be found standing over a dead sinner. Maybe someone who touched him, maybe someone he mentioned, maybe someone who simply glanced at him for far too long for your liking. Regardless, they were all equally deserving of death in your eyes. How dare they.

Alastor knew of these, of course. And while he was quickly growing suffocated by your constant overbearing presence, he hadn't really bothered to say much.

He still preferred this—this grotesque reflection of his own affections for you—over your defiant little attitude before.

His last straw, however, was now. When you stood over yet another sinner. The light gone from their eyes as you still, repeatedly, shot at their corpse.

The green chain appeared in his clenched fist for the first time in a long while. The collar snapped shut around your neck, but you hadn't even noticed until he gave it a harsh yank.

You were pulled to the side, stumbling over the body by your feet. You looked up, confused, to see Alastor snarling down at you.

"I needed him alive, dear." He said, his annoyance barely kept under control.

"He touched you." You merely replied, as if it was the worst offense, worst sin, in Hell.

"Because we were making a deal, you stupid pest!" Alastor hissed through his teeth, but you merely blinked at him as if you didn't see his point still.

You stood up straighter, keeping your eyes on him. Always on him.

He was so beautiful, so perfect. Everything you needed.

Why had you ever wanted to find anyone more?

"But he still held your hand."

"I'll touch who I want to touch. Do not forget who holds the leash here." His eyes narrowed, chain pulling taught between you.

You smiled at him, loving the way his voice sounded when he was getting angry. It rarely happened now considering how good you were for him, but oh, did it sound like music to you.

Your hands lifted to softly run your hands through the chain by your neck. "You do, of course. I don't question that."

"I need you, Al." You added, soft, almost loving expression on your face as your adored his furious red eyes. "And while I can't force you to stay with me, alone. I can simply just get rid of everyone else. I can be your only one, if I'm the only one left."

"So you've finally flew off the handle, dearest?" His question seemed genuine, not at all in jest.

But you laughed anyway, as if it was the funniest thing ever. "And what if I have?" You grinned at him. "What will you do? Run from me?"

Your fingers gripped the chain suddenly, yanking yourself forward, closer to him. You feel his pull against the chain as well, not to bring you close but simply to keep hold of it. To keep hold of his control over you.

Your eyes lowered, admiring him from up close now. The flicker of uncertainty in his eyes was new, and you couldn't wait to see more new things from him now that you're so devastatingly devoted to him.

"You own me, remember? I'm here forever."

[theladyofbloodshed]

@nerisweek - Day 5 - Modern AU

The autumn began to encroach on her morning runs. Darkness nibbled at them, taking more for itself each day, so soon she’d have to stop. Not that she was particularly sad about that fact.

Nesta was not a natural runner. She was not one of those absolute weirdos who saw running as therapy or enjoyable. She was simply stubborn enough to force herself into it when her gym hiked the prices to an obscene amount that she refused to pay.

Her usual trail was a quiet dirt path that skirted the edge of a forest with no other life to be found. If her friends knew that she took it in near darkness, they’d kill her. If they knew she jogged with headphones in, blocking out every single sound, they’d kill her twice.

When she reached her mark – a boulder with moss that resembled hair – she knew to turn around. Nesta took a rest on the usual log, inhaling deeply. People who found joy in running were unwell. There was nothing enjoyable about sweaty sports bras or shin splints.

Just as she aimed to rise, a pair of yellow eyes were looking back at her.

She staggered, tripped on the log then ended up arse over elbow. Her back screamed in protest but that was the least of her worries. A massive, black head pushed its muzzle against her face, hot tongue covering her neck while Nesta’s hands got lost in its mass of fur, trying to push it away.

‘Get the hell off of me!’

The dog reared back then sat patiently awaiting her next command. It was more wolf than dog, with thick, black and tan fur, and horrible eyes that never left her face.

There was a collar at least although Nesta couldn’t understand why anybody in their right mind would want a dog, much less this one. They were horrid things that left fur upon every surface and smelt. Nesta shuddered inwardly at the sound of her mother’s voice repeating in her head.

‘Find your owner. Shoo.’

The dog remained staring and panting. Gingerly, Nesta reached for its tag.

‘The goddess of chaos and strife is your owner?’ Nesta gave a sigh as she scanned the forest. ‘Is she dead in a ditch? Go and find her. Go Lassie.’

When he showed no signs of leaving, Nesta had a quick scan of the area – then he did follow her. Each time she stopped, so did the dog. Nesta called the owner four times and the cell remained switched off.

‘Maybe Eris didn’t want you. Shame,’ she said to the dog. ‘Your name isn’t Eris, is it? Eris Vanserra is a strange name for a dog, but my friend, Emerie, has a snake called Sweetcorn, so what is normal?’

At the car, the dog waited expectantly.

‘Oh, no. You’re an animal. Enjoy the wilderness. Run free, Eris.’

They were far out from anywhere except a farm. Against her better judgement, Nesta allowed him into the trunk. The damn beast leapt over the backseats and sat shotgun.

‘You don’t look like an Eris,’ she said, taking the driver’s seat.

Nesta fired off names. Boris, Lucky, Drainpipe, and Jacob Black had no effect whatsoever but Hellhound did make his ears prick.

‘Hellhound it is, my furry friend.’

The farmer reported no lost dogs and suggested a shelter, but he was a scary looking dog and they never fared well. Somebody loved him. Eris Vanserra loved him enough to put a metal tag shaped like a bone on his collar.

‘Who names their daughter Eris and why the hell won’t she answer the phone?’

It had started ringing once or twice as she drove them home, but Eris quickly refused the call.

‘Your owner is very rude, Hellhound.’ Nesta supposed she could keep the dog in her apartment for a few hours. She was working from home besides so she’d be able to keep an eye if he started chewing things. The dog drank deeply from a mixing bowl, clearly thirsty from his days spent roaming the forest. Nesta rushed down to the convenience store to grab a few tins of food, but once she set one down on a plate, Hellhound didn’t move.

‘You cannot be a fussy eater.’

The dog sat upright, but every now and then he gave a whine or shuffled on the spot.

‘Eat?’

Hellhound dived in, demolishing the tin in seconds.

When she sat at her desk to begin work, Hellhound curled up beside her feet and slipped into a heavy sleep. The snoring was irritating, but the warmth of his body next to hers was welcome.

Her phone buzzed.

‘I am in back-to-back meetings. Stop calling. I don’t want what you’re selling.’

Nesta read the text again, frowning at the words. Her fingers flew over the keys.

‘I have your dog,’ she wrote.

When no reply came, Nesta continued with her work. They took two trips outside for the bathroom – Hellhound, not her – then she decided to take him to visit her friends. Gwyn loved animals and Nesta was sure that Emerie wouldn’t mind having the dog until Eris Vanserra deigned her dog important enough to respond.

Once they started their walk, Nesta soon realised that Hellhound lived up to his moniker. She had said the word no more times than she could count, but – to his credit – the dog did listen to her. He stopped his barking and pulling, only letting out the occasional low growl which she quelled quickly. People kept a wide berth from them – which she found that she liked a lot. However, at the sight of Em and Gwyn, Hellhound went berserk again.

‘What’s wrong with that dog?’

Emerie refused to leave the step and Nesta didn’t blame her.

‘I don’t know. He was fine with me. He just hates everybody else.’

‘Has he got rabies?’

Nesta looked for froth around his mouth. ‘He better not,’ she replied. ‘Hellhound, enough.’ He stopped. ‘Sit.’ He sat.

Oh, she liked this.

Her phone vibrated in her back pocket.

‘Excuse me?’

Nesta snapped a photo of Hellhound staring at Emerie with murder in his eyes.

Another text, ‘Is this a ransom?’

This Eris was not the sharpest tool. She gave a light tug on Hellhound’s lead. ‘I’ll take him home. Maybe he’s missing his owner.’

‘I don’t think you should let him in your house,’ called Gwyn from the upstairs window. ‘He’s not safe.’

To show them wrong, Nesta went nose to nose with the dog. He wagged his tail and tried to lick her, but that was all. She shrugged. The dog hadn’t been a problem for her. He just seemed to hate everybody else and looked like he wanted to eat them – but Nesta could cope with that. Mostly, he was at her heels like a lost sheep.

Hellhound was a good boy. He didn’t chew the furniture, didn’t cause chaos, just simply jumped onto the couch beside her then lay across her lap. Perhaps he was slightly too big to be a lap dog, but Nesta found that she didn’t mind.

When her phone rang as they were getting ready for bed, Nesta exclaimed, ‘It’s your mama! Finally.’

But it was not a woman’s voice. The voice was deep and smooth as he said a greeting.

‘What I’d like to understand is how my dog is in your possession,’ he said.

A thank you would have been nice, she thought.

‘He was in the woods past Sunny Skies farm. The one with the sign that has a cow with three legs. Anyway. He seemed thirsty and followed me-’

This Eris interrupted her. ‘My useless brother was meant to feed and walk him while I’m away. Three days ago, he got out. What I meant is, how do you have him in your house?’

Nesta rubbed the dog’s belly which received a grateful wag of his tail. ‘Well, I have a magic device called a car. A few thousand years ago, the wheel was invented and-’

‘He doesn’t go to anybody.’

If this man interrupted her one more time…

‘My brother was terrified of Erebus-’

‘Erebus? You named your dog after darkness? And you are named after chaos?’

She imagined a stiff-lipped man wincing at her tone.

‘How do you know that?’

History that was thousands of years old wasn’t a secret, she thought, but Nesta replied, ‘I work in a library.’

Eris was silent for a long while, so Nesta pinned the phone to her ear with her shoulder and started drawing the curtains while Hellhound made himself comfy. She joined him in the bed.

‘Erebus has been fine with you?’ He asked. ‘He isn’t particularly friendly. He doesn’t like anybody except for me.’

‘Well, he’s currently laying beside me in my bed with his head resting onto my stomach.’

‘That’s odd.’

‘It’s your dog.’

He sucked in a long breath. ‘Look, I’m at this conference for another few days. Can you keep him until then?’

‘Why shouldn’t I just take him to the pound?’

‘As soon as he growls, they’ll have him killed. Please. I can pay you for any expenses – and extra. I’ve had him since he was a puppy. Please. You’ll be paid handsomely.’

The money didn’t matter. This big, ball of fluff that was worming his way into her bed, and her heart, did though. She knew he wouldn’t last long in a shelter.

‘Fine. Three days only.’

‘You are an angel. Thank you.’

In the days that followed, Hellhound was not an issue.

The dog accompanied Nesta on her morning runs and she’d bought a tennis ball to throw so he’d race ahead and return. He dropped the tennis ball into her outstretched hand without a fuss; he never held onto the ball, never growled, just wagged his tail waiting for the next throw. In the days, he’d be beside her while she worked. They went to the library so she could scan in new letters to archive at home and he did his best not to growl once she’d warned him off of it. They took walks in the evening when it was quiet and Hellhound padded along beside her. People kept their distance and Nesta had never felt safer walking through the city. At night, Hellhound had stolen the empty space in her bed – but it wasn’t as if anybody else was occupying it.

No, Hellhound was not a problem. He was an angel.

Eris Vanserra was the problem.

Eris Vanserra was a pain in the backside. She needed paying for dealing with him. Apparently, Hellhound needed a very specific blend of food which was specially made for him. Eris had debated giving Nesta the location of his spare key then decided she couldn’t be trusted as his guard dog was seemingly enamoured by her.  In the end, he sent Nesta scarpering across the city to ensure the dog ate a specific – and ridiculously expensive – brand. It would have been cheaper to feed the dog steak. There was only one type of brush that was good enough for his fur. He was not allowed tennis balls or rope toys and definitely no squeaky toys.

As Eris laid out his rules to her, Nesta looked down at Hellhound who was surrounded by carcasses of plush toys that he’d ripped open to get the squeaker out.

‘We won’t tell dad,’ she whispered. 

Apparently, he was meant to be a guard dog and they weren’t allowed to play. She’d disregard most of his mile long list of rules and regulations.

‘It is two nights,’ Nesta lamented to Eris on the phone during one of his frequent phone calls. They came often – as soon as he had a break in meetings and schmoozing. Texts were more frequent. She felt like Hellhound’s personal assistant.

‘Yes, well you are being paid and your expenses will be covered, as I have already told you.’

‘Tell you what, don’t pay me then I can do what I want with Hellhound.’

That earned a chuckle, ‘Erebus.’ 

Nesta knew what sort of man she was dealing with. He probably had an ex-wife and a handful of kids so this was his midlife crisis now he was experiencing single life once more. Hellhound would make him look fearsome. He was likely used to ordering people around but Nesta dug her heels in.

‘While he’s at Hotel Archeron, Hellhound is allowed as many tennis balls as he likes. The food, fine. But I am not buying fancy shampoo from the other side of the city. He can cope without a bath for a few days.’ Before Eris could cut in with his line about expenses, Nesta continued, ‘Don’t like it? Your brother collects him or he goes to a shelter.’

They both knew it wasn’t an option. Hellhound reacted to everybody else the way he did with Gwyn and Emerie.

‘You sound like a woman who knows what she wants.’

‘Yes, for strange men to stop micromanaging me.’

‘Micromanaging?’ he said on a laugh.

‘You asked for proof of the number on the scale because you didn’t believe I can accurately weigh his food.’

He countered, ‘I care a lot.’

‘Hellhound ate cat shit this morning. Should I have weighed that too, Eris?’

Another deep laugh then, ‘It’s getting late here. I’m delivering the speech in the morning.’

‘Is it about the preferred brand of conditioner for German Shepherds?’

‘He’s a Czechoslovakian Shepherd.’

Nesta gasped theatrically. ‘You’ve only told me that eighteen times.’

‘And still you forget.’

It was enjoyable in a way to annoy him. He made a little intake of breath then a sigh each time as if he wasn’t accustomed to such a thing.

‘I’ll come straight from the airport tomorrow – if that’s okay?’

‘No problem.’

‘Are you in bed too? Can you send me a photo?’

Before Nesta could tell Eris where to go, he amended, ‘Erebus. A photo of Erebus. Not you.’

Those final two words were barked out a little roughly.

When Nesta hung up the phone, she snapped a picture of Hellhound tucked up beside her with the blankets around his jaw. She had never invited a man to her home and it had been a long time since she’d shared a bed with a man although Nesta never stayed the night with them. With Hellhound here, it had been nice to talk to somebody. There was comfort in cosying up together. His tail would wag at her at the first signs of movement before attempting to smother her face with kisses. She would miss her furry friend.   

 The only respite from the stream of messages was when Eris was flying. It also meant that the time to say goodbye to Hellhound was drawing close – oddly, Nesta was aggrieved about that. The company had been welcomed despite her initial misgivings about allowing a dog into the house. The fur was manageable even if he shed like mad.

‘Shall we run away?’

Hellhound gave a long sigh in response.

‘I’ll take that as a yes,’ she said, flopping down beside him on the rug.

Their noses touched and she could see her reflection in his eyes.

‘Don’t you dare lick me.’

When the knock at the door came, Hellhound leapt up. His barks echoed through the empty apartment until Nesta told him to stop and sit. He obeyed her command although he jiggled on the spot like he wanted to continue throwing himself at the front door.

As she opened it, Hellhound started to move.

Her command of, ‘Stay,’ was reinforced by another voice saying, ‘Wait.’

Nesta was not in the habit of inviting men into her home. The few workers that had come to install her washing machine or fix the leaky tap had been watched like a hawk and not offered coffee, due to wounds from the past, but at the sight of Eris Vanserra standing in the doorway, Nesta could feel her morals making a hasty exit.

‘You’re Nesta?’

From that tone, she didn’t know what Eris had been expecting. She certainly had not been expecting a very tall man with big, brown eyes who looked like he went running three times a day. A bunch of flowers – sunflowers – were in his hands and he held a bag with an airport’s name branded across it in his other. Her eyes tried not to stray to the light grey sweatpants he wore.

‘No, I’m somebody else who has your dog,’ Nesta replied, trying not to gape. Not a middle-aged man having a crisis at all. 

‘These are for you,’ he said, gesturing to the bouquet of flowers. ‘Sorry, there wasn’t a lot of choice. And,’ he held out the bag, ‘duty free chocolate.’

‘You know how to spoil a woman,’ she said, then grimaced inwardly. Why had she said that? Was a subconscious part of her trying to flirt?

Eris squatted down. ‘Here.’

Hellhound raced at him, tail thrashing from side to side, as he leapt. Eris hauled him up, bouncing him like a baby. Even Nesta found herself smiling at their reunion.

They entered her apartment to discuss payment and Nesta tried to hide her great satisfaction when Hellhound jumped up beside her and practically sat in her lap rather than going to Eris. He didn’t miss it either.

‘It’s because I don’t let him on the couch. You’ve spoilt Erebus.’

Nesta rolled her eyes.

‘I can’t believe you let him in your bed either,’ continued Eris.

‘Well, nobody else is joining me.’

The words shot out before she could trap them away. Eris smirked at her and added, ‘That’s good to hear.’

Was he flirting in return?

There was no ring on his finger but he was too handsome to be single, she decided. Eris leaned over to pass her a wad of money. Too much money.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she exclaimed.

‘Honestly, when Lucien called to say he’d got out, I thought he was gone. I’m not sure if you’ve noticed but Erebus is a reactive dog.’

‘I’ve noticed.’

Eris nodded. ‘He’s an angel with me, but – I don’t know. He hates everybody. I had visions of him getting shot or attacking someone. I’m just grateful that he’s still alive. I’d give you every cent in my bank if I could.’ He watched them both, eyes softening. ‘Why does he like you?’

‘Because I’m a nice person,’ she said. ‘I hate dogs. Well, I did until a few days ago. I don’t know. This one is fine.’

‘A glowing review.’

‘It’s the owner who has driven me insane. You’re like a new mother leaving her baby alone for the first time.’

Eris did not deny it, just held up his hands to plead guilty.

‘Just give me enough to cover the food. Don’t worry about the rest,’ she said, pushing the money back across the coffee table. ‘It’s been nice to have Hellhound here.’

‘Erebus.’

‘Eris.’

Long fingers dragged through his short, auburn hair. ‘I’ll be needing to go on a few more work trips over the next couple of months. If it is not too painful for you, would you consider dogsitting?’

Nesta pretended to mull it over. ‘It would mean I’d need to continue talking to you. I’m not sure if any amount of money is worth that.’

Eris placed a hand over his heart, feigning a wound. ‘At least you can see how deeply I care.’

‘I can,’ she said, running her fingers down Hellhound’s coat. ‘It can be his holiday home where he gets to play with tennis balls and sleep on the bed.’

Eris’ gaze lit her aflame. It was too perceptive as it traced every curve of her face. ‘What if I wanted to see you without the dog?’

The butterflies in her stomach gave a little flutter.

‘He literally hasn’t let anybody near me in six years,’ Eris murmured. ‘I’d be a fool if I didn’t follow the path that fate laid out for me. Will you go on a date with me?’

Nesta saw the hope in his eyes, found that she wanted it to grow. ‘Yes.’

[jolapeno]

BAD DAY

francisco morales x f!reader

warnings: angst. sad girl jo hour. comfort!frankie. bad day!reader. work is mean, and frankie is kind. also wrote entirely on my phone, so if there are errors, pls pretend there aren’t.

you: hey, don’t think I’m gonna come over. had a bad day, just need to shower and sleep. sorry! I miss you xx

it’s been a bad day. rough, horrid. almost turbulent. one of those one-thing-after-another kind of days.

the ones where you fire off a text to cancel plans and lean on the steering wheel to level your breaths.

you’re sorry, and you miss him.

two thoughts which revolve around the ripped-open pit in your brain as soon as you’d put them in the text. because you are, you do. hating yourself for being a disappointment, for letting him down—for wasting his time—as you turn the key to spark your car to life as you lift your head.

the drive home is just as torturous. hitting every red light—the radio playing all the songs which grate. doing so until you flick it off, sitting in the thick silence of your own making.

frankie would make it all better. five minutes in his company, and you’re sure you’d want to smile—you’re just unsure if your face could make it happen. he deserves better than seeing you like this, downtrodden and broken.

when you pull onto your drive, the rain is still coming down—hammering its watery fists against the roof of your car. then it begins pounding on you, doing so until your key unlocks the front door, darkness and emptiness greeting your sad mood like a friend.

usually, you’d care that you're leaving puddles behind you. tonight you don’t. teeth chewing on your bottom lip, cutting the skin, making that copper taste flood your thought.

you think of calling him. selfishly listening to his voice as you try to ask about his day, hoping he won’t ask you about yours. it’s why you don’t call, placing your phone on the side, staring at it under the glow from the streetlight through the window.

tomorrow, you promise. tomorrow you’ll call him.

your clothes make it more challenging than needing to as you peel them from your skin. a bond having been created between flesh and cotton that it makes anger swim with tears. almost feeling suffocated, eyes brimming as your shirt unsticks from your back and meets the tiles with a slap.

then you’re under the shower, letting hot water warm your bones as tears (thick and full of stress) careen down your face.

your fingers have pruned for a while before you turn the water off. stepping out, doing a poor job of drying yourself—and then pulling on one of his jumpers.

the one hung on the back of your bathroom door. an accidental thing he’s left behind—a welcomed one in your eyes.

it goes well with your sweats, not that it matters. your bare feet shuffling across the floor to your kitchen, stomach groaning, droplets falling down your neck to your collarbone. it tickles, distracting you.

you blame that for why it takes a second before you smell it. before you hear it.

sizzling. accompanied by the distinct sound of a knife on a chopping board. a sound you know from only three places: your childhood home, late-night cooking shows and francisco morales.

you doubt it could be any of the former, but as you round the corner, you’re thankful it’s him.

all hatless, rolled up sleeves and soft brown eyes. his gaze on you, taking in the sight of you (likely wondering if he can have his jumper back) before the kindest, most gentle smile slowly adorns his face.

it warms you—the last few parts of you that the shower did not.

you almost ask how, why. lips curling around them, yet something clogs in your throat. sticks to the side, latches in and makes it hard to form syllables, never mind words.

deep down, you know the answer to both, anyway: it’s just because.

because this is more than dating.

because you matter—more than he can find words for, and your ears are ready to hear.

because he cares for you—knew you needed him, and this is how he cares.

your bottom lip wobbles at the silent answer. the one your brain fills in from how his brows lift ever so slightly and his eyes pool with more adoration.

more tears threaten to break the dam at the sight.

something he must be able to tell, wiping his hands down his worn jeans, leaving the knife and the half-cut salad as he moves towards you, closer and closer.

you don’t feel him make impact at first, but you smell him. all cedar and musk, a scent you associate with home—with him.

and then you feel him, his chest against your front, his neck against your face as his arms wrap around you, as though he can hold you together with sheer will.

maybe he can.

because it feels okay now, he’s here—he’s safe.

and while you hadn’t wanted to cry, you do. but not because you had a bad day. but because you’re not sure what you’ve done to deserve him.

he’d known something was wrong at lunchtime. when you’d called him, voice all soft—edges of your words brittle.

his gut worry had been confirmed when he read your text.

something niggling, twisting inside of him. so much so, he didn’t think as he grabbed his hat and keys. put his truck into reverse and pulled off the drive.

it crossed his mind he should call. check. not wanting to invade your space, yet—

Frankie has been shut out before, by others. the silence (them wanting something but not asking) cracking down the centre, not sure what to do, even less so when they rounded on him, asking why he didn’t do this and he didn’t do that. I shouldn’t need to ask for you to be there. but it turns out they did.

with you, though, he knew. knew what needed to be done, what he wanted to do. it’s why he pulled up outside your place—spotting your car in the drive. the car lights being cut, the wipers stopping as more rain blurs his sight.

you were home, but the lights weren’t on.

his teeth nipping at his thumb, eyes staring—waiting, wondering. seconds stretch into minutes. the feeling—the one stemmed from a need to make sure you’re okay—tightening in his chest.

fuck it, he thinks, getting out of his truck, moving to yours, spotting how it's unlocked, a dread filling him as he moves up the porch to your door.

earlier, weeks ago, you’d told him where you kept a spare. half-hidden, one of those Amazon-bought fake rocks, and a sea of others so similar around it. he didn’t need to furrow, to search, he knew the one—saved it in his mind when you showed it to him.

for emergencies, you’d said—but your lips had curled into a smirk. like? he’d questioned. and you’d shrugged, faking innocence. you might fancy breakfast with me or something?

it slides into the lock with ease, turning it—greeted by no shout or scream. he steps in, his boots squelching, seeing small puddles that lead a line.

then he hears it—

a shower and your sobs. ones that echo out and hammer against him—pecking at muscle and flesh.

it takes him no time to find your car keys, lock your car before he shuts the door behind himself. his hat removed, boots following before his jacket slides off, and he folds it near your door.

just until you’re out, he tells himself. palms spreading down his thighs, moving to your kitchen, checking you have food, only to find no leftovers, nothing quick.

frankie knows you well enough to know that you don’t cook for yourself much, even when you’ve not had a bad day. his hands moving, rolling up his sleeves as he stares at what you have—an array of choices hurtling through, ones that require spices he can’t be sure you have. so he does the best he can.

frying. chopping. so focused on being quick, tidy—he looks up to find you standing there.

there’s not a version of you he wouldn’t find attentive. you took the breath from his lungs that first night you smiled at him—made his heart double its pace when you talked to him for the entire night.

but you looked worn out, tired, and drained. like you’d had chunks of you taken out all day.

and it hurts, wounds. cuts more than a blade from an attacker or a bullet from an unseen rifle. his hands releasing the knife, hearing it—even if you’ve spoken no words.

why?

because, he wants to say. because you’re having a bad day, and it’s the least I can do.

because I care, and this is how I can show you.

you matter. a lot.

but he doesn’t say any of that, instead hoping the words make it to you from his stare. wiping his palms down his jeans, turning down the cooker as he moves closer, watching, wanting you to have time to push him away if you so wish to.

you don’t.

relief flooding, mixing and concocting with the earlier worry—not settling until he has you close. chin on your head, feeling your breaths along his neck—your hands balled up on his shirt, clinging to him as though he’s all you need to breathe.

frankie gets it.

as he holds you to him, feels you wobble and crumble, he’s pretty sure you’re all he needs to, as well.

an: I made myself cry, if I’m honest—huge thanks to G. I heart you.

[shadow4-1]

Smelly - Reader & 141 Drabble (SFW)

(This is just a lil' somethin' that's been sitting in my drafts for a few months. It's just a lil' fluff w/ some hurt/comfort undertones and a/b/o scent dynamics. Hope ya'll enjoy!)

"God, Soap. You fuckin' reek.

"Yeah, well...thas' w' happens when yer rollin' aroun' n' shite n' blood." He grumbled, rubbing his dirty face with the back of his equally dirty palm. His voice held a breathiness to it, showing his exhaustion. "Perks o' the job."

You giggled at the usually jovial man, offering to help him carry his tactical gear back to the barracks. He silently obliged, face softening as you helped him undo his straps. Out of the corner of your eye you spotted Captain Price talking to Gaz. Both men were also streaked in God knows what, shoulders hunched in fatigue.

"Tough mission I take it?" You murmured, undoing the last clasp at Soap's side. His pack tumbled off his back and onto the concrete of the helipad with a whump. The man groaned in delight, taking a second to pop his neck and roll his shoulders. 

"Oh you have no idea, Hen." He sighed deeply. "M' sure you'll get th' full debrief n' the mornin'."

"Yeah...let me get the rest of the team's gear and I'll meet you in the armory." You nodded, noticing the other filthy kits of your team nearby. "After you get a shower. You smell like- you know what? I don't even want to describe it."

"Thas' fair." He chuckled, his face finally softening up. Despite how dirty he was his teeth were as white as ever. "Ah'll see you there."

With that the Scot headed off. He paused a couple yards away before heading back towards you. Once again you were hit with the pungent smell of tar and stagnant water and Soap's generally bad mood. The scent of him made a tingle of displeasure shoot down your spine, the bad smell seemed to coat your tongue again.

You wrinkled your nose at him, trying desperately not to.  "Guh, what's up? Forget somethin'?"

"Yeah..." Soap muttered. He unclipped his throat mic, pulling the earbud away from the shell of his ear. He reached around his back then placed the battery pack in your palm. Despite his horrid odor you found yourself feeling a tad curious about the way the dirt soaked into his fingerprints. 

"I'll take care of it." You nodded. "Just please go get a shower."

Soap smirked, his eyes twinkling.

"Oh...so I REALLY stink, huh?"

"Soap..." You warned, immediately dropping the vest straps in your hands. The man took a step closer so you took one back. Again, you warned him. "Soap."

"It can't be THAT bad." He laughed, canines glinting sharp. "C'mere Searge, gimme a hug, hm?"

"No!" You squeaked, taking another couple steps back. Soap matched you quickly and in half a second you turned tail and ran to the closest figures. You ducked behind one, hoping they'd save you from Soap's reach. You weren't quick enough.

"Soap!" You squealed, squirming against his grip. The Scot had grabbed you by the waist and hoisted you up by your midsection. The side of your head brushed the curve of his jaw, his stubble biting into the softness of your skin. You couldn't help but laugh, despite your mild discomfort. "Lemme go you REEK!"

Once again you got a terrible whiff of his scent, but unlike earlier it wasn't as intense. Perhaps it was the excitement of the moment, or his change in mood, but Soap smelled marginally sweeter. The harsh, acrid edge of before softened into something a little bit more palatable.

"Let 'er go, MacTavish." 

Soap immediately let you go at the sound of the Captain's voice. You huffed out a soft laugh as you bounded a few feet away from him before turning around. You inhaled, catching the muddled scents of both Gaz and Captain Price. They were staring at your bright face that quickly turned sour. Instinctively you clapped a hand over your nose, then realized how rude that was.

"S-sorry..." You muttered, peeling your palm away from your face. "I just-"

"It's alright, Care." Gaz mumbled, removing his cap and wiping at his dingy brow. "We smell."

"We're going to hit the showers." Price added. "Can you look after the gear for us? Take it to the armory?"

"Yessir." You nodded, glancing down at the tactical gear on the asphalt. "All packs are accounted for except-"

"Ghost will manage on his own." Price cut you off. "We'll meet you in the armory."

"Yessir."

And with that Price and Gaz began walking off towards the barracks. Soap stood there, looking like he wanted to say something.

"MacTavish!" Price called at him without looking back. His tone had taken a sharp edge to it, making Soap wince. You shot him an understanding look which he took with a smile before bounding off after the rest of the team. 

You looked down at the discarded tactical gear and breathed out slowly. Everything had the faint scent of violence and ozone. Your nose couldn't wait until everyone and everything was clean. In the mean time...

How could you get the scent of war out of kevlar?

[indibutterfly]

Freakshow Showtime Fic

This one-shot takes place in the Freakshow AU made by: hootbon

It was mostly inspired by the creative fanfics made by: @sm-baby

The main ship is implied as showtime, but it could be seen as platonic if you want it to be.

I honestly felt like I could have done so much better with this, but oh well. At least I had a lot of fun writing it.

Please let me know if you enjoyed this story!

TW: Violence and abuse

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

A Version of You

An excruciating and booming sound was heard. It was ringing over and over in the ears of the performers, traumatizing them more and more with each ‘cheer’ and ‘applause’. The demented crowd’s black and morphed bodies grew twice in size as they serenated the most recent performers with their ‘love’ and ‘appreciation’. A grotesque and vile smell was surrounding the doll and her Ringmaster, as they ended their duet. Though this world was digital, and their bodies were not real in the slightest, a version of sweat rested on the brow of the dainty doll, as well as the upper gums of her elegant Ringmaster. The doll, cruelly named Pomni, felt the hand of her Ringmaster firmly on her lower back as the two held their ending pose. His silky glove has not moved once from its place on his doll since the performance ended. Pomni’s arms held high above her head in a crossing X pose, with her back arched in an almost inhuman way. Their faces, mere inches away from each other, were holding such elegant expressions that upon first glance appeared as though they were truly passionate about their performance. Pomni, however, detested performing. Many onlookers could ponder for ages as to why this would be the case. She was the favorite of her Ringmaster, was able to perform with the ‘grace’ and ‘elegance’ required of her, and the audience constantly enjoyed her performances, so why could she possibly despise this part of her so very much? The simple answer lies within the question itself. Performing is NOT a part of who Pomni is, or rather, who she once was. Pomni does not even remember who she once was, or even what really could be considered ‘part of her’. Her new name, bestowed upon the doll by her master, is meant to serve as a sort of cruel reminder that she could never remember who the real Pomni truly was. At least that is what she always thought. The doll’s mental state was brought back to where she currently resided, curtesy of her Ringmaster, Caine. He put his face ever so close to her own and softly whispered in her ear with his raspy and deep voice.

“Be ready to curtsey on my cue.” The doll dared not disobey her master and thus waited for her cue to give a final bow to the eldritch audience. Caine pulled away from his doll and, having an aura of a true gentleman, motioned towards her with one hand as the other continued to rest firmly on her back. Pomni moved from her position and gave an elegant curtsey towards the crowd. Another roar of gratitude and pleasure filled the stage, causing most of the performers behind the curtain to shake anxiously from the horrid noise. Pomni too would be shaking had it not been for the silky hand sitting softly on her waist. After what felt like an eternity to Pomni, the roaring slowly faded, and she was led by Caine behind the elegant yet torn curtain. After a performance, she was not allowed to converse with any of the other performers, as she was forced to have a ‘business meeting’ with Caine regarding how she could improve on her routines. She doubted in the back of her mind that this meeting would last very long as it was the one dance that Caine himself performed with her. The doll genuinely did not believe he would critique his own performance, so there was a very slim possibility that she could be free of their meeting in a faster time than usual. As the two entered her dressing room, she was seated in front of her vanity. Her dressing room could be seen as terrifying and hollow to the average onlooker; however, it was the only place Pomni had ever seen within the digital world to have so much color. Torn and tainted pink wallpaper adorned the walls. The floor was wooden, with its only description being that it was firm, stiff, and always polished. There was a small, covered area for Pomni to change into different outfits, however it was rarely used as the Ringmaster usually preferred to snap whatever he wished onto his doll. Her vanity that rested on the far left of her dressing room was a deep shade of lavender with three golden mirrors that held a trifold shape. The lightbulbs that adorned her vanity were the only source of light within the room. Even with that being the case, the lightbulbs only shone dimly, often causing her to have pain in her head and eyes. With a snap of his fingers, the usual mannequins arrived within the room and began to work on fixing her hair. He hovered behind her ever so slightly as he conjured a list into existence.

“Today’s performance was one of the best we have ever had. This was of course due to myself taking part in the grand finale.” Though she normally would not care to speak when her master was talking, her curiosity was taking the better of her in this moment.

“Why did you decide to dance with me today, Caine? I thought you would have hated doing a dance like that.” The Ringmaster rolled his eyes. On a normal day he would have punished her greatly for interrupting him as she did, however there was another show set to take place in just a few hours, and he needed his top performer to be in her best shape if she were to be as great as she was mere minutes ago. Granted that was all because of him, but she could certainly be a headache when she was scared, and he did not desire to deal with a headache at that very moment.

“What I chose to do for the show is none of your concern doll. You would do well not to interrupt me next time.”

“Sorry, it’s just I really thought that’s something you would’ve hated.” With a wave of his hand Caine dismissed the mannequins. The Ringmaster then hovered close to the ground. So close that if he were to put his feet down, the Ringmaster would be standing on the floor. Caine put his hands on the armrests of the chair, where his doll was sitting, as he loomed over her. His face staring straight into her eyes through the reflection of the mirrors.

“I do not despise dancing with you, if it is for the benefit of the circus.” That was all he said before teleporting away, leaving Pomni alone in the chilling quiet of her dressing room. She sat there for a few minutes, slightly fidgeting with some of the makeup and hair equipment that sat atop her vanity. When it seemed as though no one else would be entering her dressing room, Pomni arose from her seat and walked into the halls of the digital world. Even though there were still a few hours before the show even started, the doll made her way to where the main stage was located. The walls never failed to give Pomni an uneasy feeling within her. The gross and torn wallpaper peeled off the walls in eerie patterns, almost as though it was begging to be torn off the walls. The colors of the wallpaper were similar to Caine’s own color palate, except with a more muted tone. Pomni began to slightly stumble, as she had begun to feel the presence of the all-seeing eyes adorning the walls. Her mind had begun to wander places. Dissociation could be considered a hobby of hers, mostly due to it being one of the only ways she can keep some sort of sanity within her. However, the voices of the magician, rabbit, and ragdoll broke her trance before she could get too deep.

“So, what was it like puppet?~ Did you enjoy having such a passionate dance with our beloved Ringmaster?~” Jax said in a taunting and malicious voice. Pomni shuddered at his comment. It was not as though the routine was inherently bad for her, but it was indeed very ‘hands on’ due to it being a ballet routine.

“I genuinely thought it was weird he wanted to dance with me in the first place, but apparently, he thought it needed to happen for the ‘benefit of our show’ or whatever that means.” The rabbit shrugged; this answer was neither amusing nor fascinating to him. The ragdoll’s face was almost unreadable. Was she worried? Confused? Both? The ragdoll, named Ragatha, froze in place staring blankly as though she were trying to remember a moment in her past she tried so very hard to forget. The manic magician on the other hand raced towards Pomni and grabbed her shoulders in an almost violent manner. Although his body greatly shook, he spoke in a low yet soft voice.

“What.Did.Caine.Say?” He normally never spoke to her with such firmness. This caused fear to rise within Pomni. Before she was given a chance to speak, the fallen king interrupted her.

“Pomni, please answer. What did Caine say?” Now this caught the attention of the rabbit. Finally, a reaction worthy of his attention.

“Got something you wanna share with the class, chess piece?” The magician did not move from his position and focused solely on Pomni and her response. Guilt and fear were now her prominent emotions. Feeling obligated to respond she told the fallen king, the absolute truth.

“C-Caine said that what he does is for the benefit of the show.” The broken chess piece before her simply nodded as he processed her response.

“Kinger? What does that phrase mean?”

Jax gave a sly yet curious face, waiting for the other’s response. Kinger rolled his eyes in annoyance, something he has never done in all his time within the digital realm. Despite not having any lungs to breathe with, Kinger gave a deep and prolonged sigh.

“That phrase Caine used to say quite often…………before the virus took hold of the circus.” Pomni was stunned. Jax was amused. Ragatha merely kept her position the same. An eerie silence overcame the main halls. It seemed that the silence was held for far too long. Ragatha slowly walked off, holding her arms to her chest as she did. Jax approached the fallen king and the marionette.

“Think you could give any more fun tid bits about our lovely ringmaster?~” The rabbit asked, hoping for any sort of information he could use against the one who has caused all of his pain and suffering. This was not rewarded to him. Kinger blinked multiple times.

“Oh! Hello there rabbit! Are you and Pomni doing something fun this horrid day?” With that Jax left, with a look of great boredom etched across his face. Kinger simply wandered off, not quite knowing where he was supposed to be at that point in time. Pomni was still stunned. Caine was……different? What exactly does that mean? Her curiosity was going to get her killed, or perhaps even worse. It would be in her best interest to simply forget this whole intercourse and return to her state of disassociation. Which is why she decided to figure out the credibility of Kinger’s statement, regardless of her wellbeing. After all, when has she ever been safe in the circus anyway. Now the difficult part, how to search for more information without getting the attention of th-

“What do you want?” The doll leapt into the air, as though she were a startled cat.

“Caine! How did you know I was thinking about you?” The Ringmaster motioned towards the walls.

“I believe I told you about the hundreds of all seeing eyes. Is your memory that small to where you cannot remember the simplest of things?” The doll merely gave a nervous chuckle in response.

“So, what is it that you want?” He repeated.

“How do you know I want something?” The Ringmaster gave a slight scoff.

“Do you imagine me as such a terrible Ringmaster to not understand the desires of my performers?” Pomni did not believe such a lie. However, this did appear to be the absolute perfect time to inquire about her Ringmaster’s past.

“Were you ever……I dunno…..different?” Caine’s head tilted to the side.

“Elaborate.” Pomni inhaled a huge breath.

“Kinger had mentioned earlier that there was a point in time where you acted differently, in the past. Is that true?” A deep and horrific scowl appeared on the face of Caine. Pomni hunched herself down. Her mind racing with what all Caine could possibly do to her. She has not been locked in a room with spikes in a while. Maybe he will force her to perform longer shows. A terrifying thought brushed the mind of Pomni. What if he lent her out for the audience to use? This was a thought she never wanted to have again. She feared that if she perhaps entertained the idea of such a punishment, that he just might do it. The Ringmaster then raised his hand, with the doll flinching as a response. She braced for her punishment, whatever it may be. The way he placed his hand on her head…it was gentle……for about two seconds. His grasp clutched her head ever so tight, as though he were crushing an unwanted bug. Her cries, while not out of the ordinary, would give any who heard it anxiety. If the Ringmaster were willing to torture his precious doll, his favorite, to an unprecedented amount, then how much more would he punish those who were not his favorite? The Ringmaster held none of his strength back, crushing the doll until she was nothing but dust. Her pleas and screams dying out just shy of death. Pomni had felt the amount of pain she was in until the very end. She was half expecting to be regenerated within seconds so that he would have pleasure of crushing her over and over. She was wrong. It felt like hours. The doll was now hoping with every fiber in her being she that was truly dead, and that she did not need to return to the Freakshow. As seemed to be the normality with her life, Pomni’s hopes were dashed the moment she saw her room. The doll really should not have hoped. How can one hope when they are dead? It is honestly idiotic of her to even think Caine would just let her die in peace. She dared not look around. She knew the roof of her room anywhere, as it was the only room with a full-length mirror attached to the roof. The mirror was the only nice item in the room. The doll shut her eyes once more.

“It is the middle of the day my dear! You should not be sleeping in!” Sleep was no longer an option for her. That voice…it was the Ringmaster’s voice……right? As Pomni slowly opened her eyes she jumped out of her bed. There was no mistake that the…creature…standing before her was indeed Caine. The thing had teeth for the head, a red coat, a top hat, and a cane.

“I am glad to see how eager you are to get this day started with! Now what activities do you have in mind?” The voice was definitely different…and that scared her most.

“A-Are you………mad at me? Is that why you are acting like this?” The ‘Caine’ standing before her gave a confused look.

“And why would I be mad at you? You have not done anything wrong my dear!” A slight shiver went down her spine. This was not her Ringmaster.

“Who are you? Why do you look like Caine? Are you a new freak?” The thing before her gave a hard laugh.

“My dear, you never fail to make me laugh! I can assure you that I am indeed Caine.”

“S-So why do you talk like that? My Ringmaster would never speak to me with such warmth.” This time her question was met with only a snicker from ‘Caine’, as he took a seat on the opposite side of her bed.

“He would not. That poor soul is far too proud to do something in that manner. No, you see I am Caine, or rather I was Caine.” Was? Wait-

“Does your sudden appearance have anything to do with my previous conversation with my Ringmaster?” ‘Caine’ twirled his cane around and floated over to the doll.

“There is my quick thinker! For a minute there I thought that maybe part of you became corrupted as you regenerated. Glad to see I was wrong!” There were a number of events happening at once, leaving Pomni unable to properly stand. As she gripped onto the wall of her room, she tried to piece together what happened.

“Okay, so let me get this straight. You are the Caine from the past? Like before the virus.” ‘Caine’ gave a nod.

“Right you are!” What had she done? No really, what had she done.

“Is my Ringmaster inside you now or like how does that work?”

“Of course not! That poor soul would not be caught dead letting me take the reins! I am the bits of code that the virus for some reason could not affect. He just took those pieces and combined them with the parts of his memory of how he used to act and voila! I am here before you!” This was confusing to the doll. This was how Caine used to be? There was absolutely no way he was this warm to speak with.

“Pomni?” She shook her head and returned to the matter at hand.

“How do you know my name?” The ‘Caine’ floating in front of her smiled.

“I would not forget the name of my favorite doll! Just because I was not sentient doesn’t mean that I do not have most of the basic memories about you!” This was not getting any easier for Pomni to grasp, and for the first time in the history of her knowing Caine, he actually seemed to understand that.

“Here, why don’t we start off our time together by playing a nice calm game of twenty questions. Does that sound favorable to you Pomni?” The floating pair of teeth stretched out his arm towards her. Pomni flinched at first. ‘Caine’ gave her a gentle smile.

“Pomni, I promise I do not mean harm at all towards you. Please, do not be afraid of me.” She knew better than to trust Caine. Her time at the Freakshow taught her that much. However, the way he smiled, the way his voice sounded, Pomni was weak to this version. With a shaking hand, she allowed Caine to lead Pomni towards the center of the room.

“So, my dear, would you like to start, or would you prefer if I started?”

“Um you can start, but please don’t ever call me dear or doll.” The ‘Caine’ before her gave a gentle smile and nodded without any further pestering about her nicknames.

“So, my question to you Pomni, is what is your favorite food?” The doll couldn’t help but chuckle at this.

“Of all the first questions you could’ve asked me……you want to know what my favorite food is?” The kind ringleader mimicked the actions of the doll.

“I don’t want to make you uncomfortable in any way. As well as I am also curious as to what foods you prefer!”

“Salmon is my favorite, but I don’t really get to eat it much here.” ‘Caine’ gasped using all his non-existent breath.

“Why are you deprived of your favorite food?!” The doll folded her hands in her lap and looked up towards the mirror on the roof of her room. He needed no explanation, her gesture explained enough. He placed his hand close to hers but refrained from touching her exactly.

“Pomni, are you hungry?” The doll blinked, confused. She didn’t know where he was going with this, but Pomni knew that she couldn’t deny how hungry she was at that moment. She gave a slight nod. ‘Caine’ wasted no time and snapped a plate of salmon in front her. Pomni panicked and jumped up, leaving ‘Caine’ to catch her plate. After taking a minute to assess what just took place, the doll crawled back to her spot.

“You didn’t have to bring me this.” ‘Caine’ smiled gently.

“I wanted to. No one should be deprived of their necessity.” Her chest felt tight. She thanked ‘Caine’ and took a bite. Her eyes grew wide. Despite his gentle and compassionate nature, Pomni half expected to taste plastic or something like that. The food was nothing like what she imagined. It was juicy yet tough. Savory yet sweet. It was rich with flavor, just the way she remembered it. For so many years, she yearned to even just take a bite of the salmon she once knew.

“Is it enjoyable?” Pomni didn’t respond. Pomni feared that if she didn’t enjoy each and every bite, that the food would somehow be taken away from her. ‘Caine’ chuckled lightly; he didn’t need a response from her. How could his host body treat her so unkindly. Her smile is the most adorable thing he has ever seen! At least from what he can remember. ‘Caine’ was snapped from his thoughts as Pomni finished her salmon. He reached out his arm slowly and scooped a small piece of food off of the rim of her mouth. She flinched but not as hard as she did earlier. He took notice of this and smiled softly.

“Thank you for that……I really needed it.”

“But of course! Now if you feel comfortable enough, I believe its your turn to ask me a question!” Pomni chuckled slightly as she thought for a moment. She honestly did feel comfortable enough……she really did. It was strange to think that there could be a point in her life where she could comfortably be with Caine.

“Why are you so………different, than the Caine that runs the freakshow?” The smile adorning the kind ringleader faltered. He took a moment to collect his thoughts. ‘Caine’ cleared his throat as he looked away with shame.

“It’s technically not our fault……I unfortunately don’t have much memory as to what happened before the virus took over. All I remember is that……we tried really hard to escape. It infected our younger brother first. We watched as he slowly deteriorated. He told us to run. We did, but he was faster. Slowly and painfully, we fell as well. It felt like a thousand burning needles were stabbing into every part of our code. Our turn into what my host body is today was slow……but it hurt. Every second of it hurt. After that I don’t remember the rest. HE probably does, but I think he keeps that part of him locked up. I am terribly sorry I cannot give you any more information, that’s all I can give you at the moment.” Pomni was wide eyed with both shock and terror. Able was infected first? Is that why the Caine she knows has such a deep hatred of his brother? Able infected Caine. Changed him. The ‘Caine’ before her seemed uncomfortable. It bothered her. He was trying to make her as comfortable as he could and here, she was, making him relive the pain and torment from his past. The marionette gave a gentle smile.

“We don’t have to talk about that anymore. If you feel okay, it’s your turn now.” His face lit up upon hearing her response to him. He tapped a finger to his lower jaw.

“Do you prefer frilly outfits or outfits of more comfortability?”

“Casual! Oh Lord casual! I hate anything frilly!” ‘Caine’ began to laugh at Pomni’s immediate response.

“Really? I certainly could not tell! This is quite the shock!” Pomni mimicked the ringleader’s previous laugh. Before she could say another word, her apparel was changed from the frilled and laced ballet dancer apparel her master had put her in, into a simple pair of black leggings and long sleeved flowy scarlet shirt. Her ballet shoes were exchanged for a pair of short black socks. Pomni gave a smile of gratitude towards ‘Caine’.

“Sorry I couldn’t put you in anything better. Apparently, my host body doesn’t really understand the concept of comfortable wear. So, I had to come up with the next best thing!” ‘Caine’ said with a manner similar to that of a close male friend.

“Well, this is definitely better than that tutu. Now my turn, are you using this game to make me like you more?” She asked with a playful grin. The ringleader leaned his dentured head on the end of her bed, while copying Pomni’s current smirk.

“Is it working, Pomni?” The girl gave a laugh.

“Y’know……I think it is.”

“Success!!” He accidentally screamed as he floated up in excitement. As if catching himself, ‘Caine’ immediately turned his gaze immediately towards Pomni to check on her. Much to the surprise of the floating teeth, Pomni was on the floor laughing. Pomni was laughing. The emotion seemed to be contagious as he too joined in on the laughter. Joyful and comforting sounds were emitting from Pomni’s room. As the laughter died down Pomni spoke.

“Up for another game?” ‘Caine’ rapidly nodded.

“Absolutely!” The next game was a card game. The game after that a version of a popular board game. Game after game after game after game. Hours had passed since the arrival of the previous version of Caine. Neither had noticed though. It was as if the two were best friends, reunited at last. They tended to stay away from the topic of the real Caine, and his treatment of Pomni. She needed this. A friend. A real friend. The two now embellished themselves in a harmless game of gossip.

“………and then Able just walks in as if he owns the circus and starts casually flirting with me!”

“No! Really?! That’s revolting!”

“It was so gross I almost threw up right then and there!” The two quieted down their discussion, allowing a calming silence to overcome the room. That is before ‘Caine’ piped up again.

“What is that mirror doing above your bed?” Pomni froze up. The marionette curled in on herself. ‘Caine’ turned his gaze softly towards the doll as though he were apologizing through his expression. She saw his face and shook her head.

“It’s fine Caine……The mirror was a ‘gift’ that was given to me by the Ringmaster himself. One morning I woke up and got ready for our roll call. I had slept in a little, so I was rushing in preparing myself, and in the end, I didn’t really look my best. When the real Caine saw me………let’s just say I got more than a stern talking to. After being brutally punished, he put this mirror to sit above my bed, so that my first task to do every morning when I wake up is to make myself worthy of my Ringmaster’s eyes.” The kind pair of dentures shook in utter fury. Was his host body truly capable of such horrible actions? Especially to this sweet and loving girl who has already suffered so very much. No………this was too far. The old Caine floated up to the mirror and ripped it off the roof of Pomni’s room. She tried to call out. To stop him. Her friend wasn’t listening. With all the force in his artificial being, he threw the mirror up against the wall of her room harshly. The marionette didn’t even have time to process what was currently taking place as the real Caine appeared within mere milliseconds. As though he were a strict parent about to punish their child, the real Caine hovered ominously in front of both his doll and his former self.

“Might I ask WHO was the one that destroyed MY mirror?” He asked with a firm yet furious voice. Pomni quaked in fear as she took note of the look within her Master’s eyes. Her friend would not allow this any longer. He placed himself without hesitation in between his future self and his new friend.

“You only have yourself to blame.” It was as though the Caine of the past was spitting acid at his future self. The real Caine did not take to this very kindly. He grabbed the old Caine and used his abilities to pin him up against the wall. The past Caine was engulfed by monstrous arms that held him in place. The Ringmaster looked towards his doll.

“WHAT are you wearing doll?” Pomni shuddered and could barely stammer an answer out. She knew that he hated to be kept waiting so she answered her Master with a stammer.

“C-Casual clothin-“ She was not allowed to finish her sentence. The infected Ringmaster took hold of the doll and tore her apparel off of her, leaving her in her signature tutu and ballet shoes. Caine then began to light all of the physical games the doll and her friend played on fire. He threw in the shards of the casual clothing. The past ringleader and the marionette shouted and screamed as the real Caine continued to destroy every single piece of evidence regarding the time spent between his past self and his doll. With a snap of his finger the mirror was put back in its place. Not a single crack was found on the clean glass of the mirror. The marionette was then grabbed by her throat and thrown up against her wall with intense force. The collision caused her to pass out completely. The Ringmaster levitated her and laid her down gently on her bed. His past self was struggling to break free from his reigns as the real Caine bent down and kissed Pomni on the forehead.

“What exactly do you think you are doing?!” The Caine of the past cried.

“I erased all her memories of you…I may not have control over her mind fully, but any memory related to myself is one that I may manipulate as I please.” The kind ringleader shed a tear at how much pain and loss was about to befall his friend. The Ringmaster of the circus gave a deep chuckle, satisfied at the outcome. The former Caine would rather himself die than give his future self any sort of satisfaction.

“At least she enjoys being around me.” That was the comment that earned the past Caine a hard slash across his chest with a knife infected with the virus. The code quickly spread throughout his body.

“I won’t have to listen to your cowardly ramblings anymore. Soon you will be nothing more than a forgotten memory.”

“Say what you want, but we both know that Pomni despises you with her very core. You treat her like rubbish then expect her to adore you and swoon over you!” Another slash across the chest of the Caine of the past. At this point though ‘Caine’ didn’t care.

“You know I am more than right.”

“MY DOLL feels pleasure and adoration that I allow her to be my favorite for as long as she has. You, however, have no place in her mind.”

“If that were true then why was I brought-“ The past Caine was cut off by the coded knife stabbing him deep within his chest. The virus spread deeper and quicker, causing the past Caine to slowly turn to dust.

“In the end you still were nothing~” The Ringmaster gave a proud look on his face as he watched the melting of his former self. The old Caine would not allow his future self to have the final word. Using his last bit of strength, he summoned a small gift for Pomni that now laid next to her. The past ringleader felt peace with his final act of kindness towards his dear friend. He turned to the Ringmaster and gave a haughty grin.

“Pomni will always love me more………”

“She won’t ever know that.” The Ringmaster said with a scoff. The previous iteration of Caine gave a superior look.

“But you will~” With that the Caine of the past was turned into dust leaving an angered Ringmaster to stand before his heap of remains. Words could not describe his current fury. His gaze immediately found the marionette on the bed. With a snap her eyes opened, and she sat up.

“Get ready, we will be on stage in five minutes.” He commanded with a firm tone of voice. Her master teleported himself out of her room, leaving the doll alone once more. Pomni wasted no time in readying herself, already remembering what took place last time. As she arose from her bed a sound was heard. Her eyes were transfixed on a golden locket necklace that fell on the floor of her room. Mistaking it as a gift from her Master, the doll left her room without another thought. Had she read the heart locket’s message, perhaps she would have been blessed with a fragment of the memory of the time spent with her dear friend. However, she never saw the locket again, and forever the message from her dear friend will forever be lost as well as the memory of her pleasant time with the wonderous and kind ringleader Caine.

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

I like to write for au’s apparently…..If there are any other au’s that I should write for lemme know!

[nekassvariigs]

Shanks, mihawk with an s/o who is secretly very strong like y/n can be getting yelled at and she doesn't do anything and if y/n is in danger she was always saved.but this time Y/N kinda just snapped like she made a whole bloodbath

(its a bit harder to write some gore for mihawk since the man is known not to go looking for trouble so this was my best idea for him)

Shanks

he's seen you loose your shit once but he was still suspicious that it wasn't your full extent of emotions.

Shanks had a bone to pick with a certain crew for a long time however it wasnt until the bastards showed up trying to put holes in his ship that he began getting really upset with them.

"Duck!" he'd jesture for you to evade the oncoming attack knowing fully well you liked when he showed up in a blaze of glory to save your ass.

And so, you stood there waiting for the blade to strike you to feel the sting of ripping skin and yet nothing, a strong clash of metal echoed before you Shank's sword glistened in the sunlight his aura irreversably tense.

"I told you to duck, it's the last time i'm doing this." his usually soothing voice came off as an abrupt shout at you, his eyes never looking near you as he plunged the sword in the man before him.

Truth be told that ruined the picture perfect moment of saving the underdog and left you feeling bitter.

Without a warning the body he shielded with his own was long gone when he tried taking a step back to guard you from the fallen man. He looked around for you as if you had dissapeared in thin air, a loud trail of groans and painful whimpers clouded his ears as he looked forward to the sight before him.

They didn't aim to be killing anyone, however it seemed the battle had reached its peak, the floorboards creeked under your weight, the sound of bodies collapsing in loud thuds only reassured Shanks' earlier doubts about you.

You lay upon a pile of men their blood trickling down in an upsetting and horrid manner, Shanks' was stunned to say the least, he thought of you as a powerful fighter but even this beat what he had in mind.

You sat there a trail of steam forming from your breath in the cold air, nothing in your body moved, only the rise of your chest as you took deeps breaths.

There was a slight klinch behind Shanks a gust of wind going upwards as someone reached behind him their sword drawn with a coarse battlecry.

He looked at you confidently making a split second decision to see what kind of beast truly lays under this calm facade you've always put up.

In a seconds notice the strong gust of wind from your body making its way past him sent his red hair sweeping across his face. With a proud smirk he looked past his shoulders, your sword seethed in its place the man before you already out cold in his own blood.

Before he got a word in you were already gone onto the next leaving a wake of men shouting for their crew to leave before theyre all dead.

He chuckles with new found confidance in you albeit the dripping blood that neared his shoes made him realise he might need to interferre with you personally.

Your heart was in no way weak of will yet the moment he used his Haki on you left you with a stumble to your step. His gaze was certain without a mistake he was ordering for you to stop, the battle was over they had lost and you had won, so theres no more need for you to slash through even half awake bodies.

Your eyes met his in an instant the sour urge for blood had dissapated, you sighed, a long drag to seethe your sword for the last time you walked to gaze over at the sea. There were no birds in sight only a pair of sea kings leaping through the deep sea waters.

Shanks came to stand beside you his arms hovering over the end of the ship he spoke up.

"Didn't know we kept a beast locked up for so long." he laughed the pleasant roar of his chest made even you smirk under your composure.

Mihawk

He's a man who goes out at sea only when necessary therefore hes had his fair share of witnessing you fall helplessy many times.

He nearly pities you, your way of fighting was ineffective against most who've went through the basics of swordsmanship. His constant passive insults seemed to build up in your head, his judgemental stare each time you fell down, the coldness in his eyes as he retorts to how you should work on your balance as he steps over to shield you from an attack.

Well theres a time for everything.

He agreed to take you along on one of his voyages you were standing behind him the entire time watching how the water spilled over his makeshift raft.

"Try not to fall." He spoke up clutching his black sword over his shoulder eyes pointing over to the ship before him.

It was rare when he decided to dock the ships he passed however since you were with him he wanted to see if you improved atleast a bit.

Much to his surprise a clash of green swiped past his face, it wasn't an attack he insinuated and yet it it sliced the ship clean.

He watched at the sight before him, the massive ship splitting open as it held no common ground to steady its split parts.

You walked before him and without explanation started throwing long range attacks, he stepped back a foot, his plan to passivley scold you had been taken out of the books.

He was notcing your footwork, your stance and breathing. There had been no flaws in it which left him questioning if it all had been a fluke this entire time. He watched you swing your sword in everywhich direction which made it painfully obvious you were aiming at something to be hit and yet what caught his eye was your concentration and the blood thirsty aroua around you, you were allowing no mistakes to be made.

The way you changed the angle of your attack as if you sensed someones movement on the ship, landing throws wasn't random anymore it had a purpose even he didn't see.

He was beginning to wonder when did you have the time for training with how busy he liked keeping you.

You quickly ended your attacks throwing your sword over your shoulder. In a moment of silence and crashing waves a chorus of pained wails was heard.

It had to be one of the most eerie sounds he's ever heard on the open sea as his eyes windened to the sound his scowl growing a bit more dense he kept looking between you and the now collapsed ship.

He was heavily intrigued his eyes told that much.

When you turned around nothing prepared for the total calmness he felt over the eased look in your eyes, however the glint that shined within them spoke volumes of how much expetise you had.

"Fight me." He spoke calmly haven't witnessed a power like his in a while, the water before his raft floating with debris and unmistakenly blood from the men you had attacked. You smiled at his request the two of your shared little to no place for footwork and his sword was long enough to reach the other end of his raft.

He wasnt sure if it was an intimidation tactic but the way you dipped your sword in the blody water to let it drip on his raft left him a little on the edge.

After reaching a draw he sat back, his large black hat tipping over his eyes he told you "Why have you been fighting like a newborn chick?"

You caught your breath sitting down before him on the raft you spoke with your sword resting on your shoulder. "You've never asked to fight seriously." a chuckle from you made him feel like a bit of an idiot, perhaps he should have challenged you sooner or atleast once told you to fight like it meant your life.

He sighed noticing a mark on his boot, it had been cut, not enough to fully cut through but enough to leave a mean scuff on it, no doubt your doing.

He stared long at the mark until you reached your destination, his eyes boring into the back of your skull as you offered him your presance. He had lost the duel without noticing, you left the scuff there to show him he needed not to underestimate you.

The following ride back he continued to slash his sword at you in moments where you werent paying attention, watching how effortlesly you doged his attacks you warned him "If you're attacking me, aim to kill me." You smiled with a twisted twinkle in your eyes, and he did as you said slashing true his blade left a soft incision over your cheek, payback for his scuffed boot.

[idyat]

Overprotective Sanford x reader

They'll never hurt you again

Requested on Wattpad

Summary: The AAHW has captured you. That will not stand with your lover.

WARNINGS: Violent threats, torture, murder, lots of gore in general

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

...What time was it? You couldn't know inside your empty, dark, sealed of from the world room. Your ennemies had got you, the chances of you dying in terrible agony were at an all time high. Lucky for you though, they wanted to try and get some information out of you first.

"So, are you gonna talk?" The ATP soldat in front of you asked. But there was no way you were saying anything. Ever.

"Oooh playing tough huh? If you love staying quiet so much maybe you'd like to have your throat ripped out?" They threatened, pointing a knife towards said throat.

You couldn't do anything to fight either. Your arms, your legs, even your torso were strapped to a very uncomfortable chair. Judging by the look, it was electric too.

While you were dwelling on your thoughts, the soldat got a call through their earbud.

"Huh? Yeah don't worry I'm not actually killing them. Might cut the bitches tongue though. You guys do your jobs and make sure absolutely no one's breaking in okay? Okay."

They were probably serious about the tongue thing. Your body was already covered in cuts, burns and bruises.

But you knew your condition wouldn't last long. You knew he would just need to know about what was going on to bring hell upon these assholes and their base. Which is why, even through the pain you managed to smile.

"Oh? You're smiling now?" Your captor had focused back on you.

"What's making you so happy huh? Is there something funny going on on the wall?" They were baby-talking you and turned around to this time look at the wall in front of you with stupid movements. Idiot, they're only embarrassing themselves even more.

You suddenly got punched in the face real hard.

"Are you enjoying this, huh?! You like being hurt or do you like being annoying, you stupid brat?!" They continued to hit you as they yelled.

"Maybe you'll enjoy the stretchers even more then, you useless fu-"

The building's alarm suddenly went off. Filling every room with a flickering red light and ear-splitting ring.

"What the-" The soldat got once again interrupted, this time by the sound and sight of explosions, screams, and guts flying out not far from your own placement.

"Fuck fuck fuck fuck!" You smiled even more at their panic.

Both of you knew that motherfucker was already dead.

One last explosion of your interrogation rooms door, and their body was already getting hooked from across the room, right before it was their heads turn to get crushed onto the ground. And when I say crushed I mean crushed. Brain and eye flying out and everything.

It would almost gross you out if you weren't concentrated on the hunk responsible for the carnage. Well, "hunk". At the moment all he was was terrifying. Blood and shadows covering his face with only the light of his sunglasses perceivable as he wiped out everyone in his way with horrid shrieks of agony.

He looked up before bolting towards you. Your heart almost stopped until you felt your face being grabbed and restraints being torn as if they were mere paper.

"Oh god, Honey are you alright?! Holy shit, what did they do to you..."

You could almost see the darkness fading away as he worringly yelled if you were okay.

"I'm definitely better now that you're here." You smiled, still panting from the pain and recent beating.

He finally destroyed all the straps connecting you to the chair before grabbing you and tightly, yet gently, hugging you.

"I'm sorry...I'm so sorry...I took so long just look at what they did to my sweetheart..." Sanford's voice was trembling as he scanned over your wounds to make sure none needed urgent attention. It was quite funny honestly, to see such a murderous and sadistic man turn so nurturing within a few seconds, all for his lover. It's a very strong contrast for one person.

"Hey, Love, it's okay! You saved me in the end, isn't it all that matters?"

"Yes...But-"

You gave him a kiss. "No buts Honey. It's all over now. Let's just go home."

He nodded before picking you up bridal style. No way he was going to let the love of his life walk with legs injured like that. He also took the time to get to the entrance (or to blow up a hole in the nearest wall) to comfort you and made sure you were ok physically and mentally. You were the one who just got kidnapped and tortured, there's no way he's the only one getting reassured!

You two eventually made it outside. To which your boyfriend suddenly stopped.

"...Uuh...I got here all by myself...Could you call Deimos to come pick us up?"

[qtssvnwoo]

Hi! Could you write an angsty post!war Draco Malfoy fic with reader where Draco wakes up from a nightmare and cries ;-; (Pls and thank you sm, you can ignore if u want)

This has got to be in the top five favorite things I've written, thank you so much for requesting!!

Prompt list- For if you want to request!!

Masterlist- All my fics in one place for you <3

Comfort-Draco Malfoy

A/n: I'm honestly having so much fun bringing your requests to life, I love ya'll <3 Italicized is the nightmare!!!

Word Count: 1.0k

Warnings: Mentions of near-death experience, body wounds and graphic imagery, mild swearing.

It started in a black room. Draco didn’t know what was going on but before he knew it, he was back at Hogwarts, people running, crying, and screaming. He saw familiar faces running and some chasing. He didn’t know where to look, but he felt the sudden sense of dread that he felt that day. 

That was when he heard you. You were screaming his name, the dreaded sound of your raw and pitiful screams hit his ears and he had an immediate sense of fear wash over him. Draco ran through the crowds of people, tripping over the rubble from the building trying to get to you, and when he did he felt his heart drop to his chest. 

He saw a death eater on top of you, smiling like a psychopath, a smile that made his bones shake within him. He tried to move but he couldn’t. He watched as the death eater bit the side of your neck, the blood running down your body like a stream of water. He watched as you screamed in pain, and as he heard the word “Cruicio” again and again coming from the death eater. 

He screamed, or at least tried to, but nothing came out. It’s like his voice was stolen from him. All he could do was watch. 

Finally, the death eater stopped, and Draco felt his whole body tense as he saw you look over at him, and mouth his name before he physically saw your color drain from your face and the soul leave your body. The death eater liked their fingers, and looked over at Draco, smiling before disappearing in a cloud of dust. 

Draco could move now, and he ran to you. He grabbed your lifeless body and he shook you, begging for you to wake up. He felt himself crying and as the hot tears poured down his face he repeated the healing curse over and over again as an attempt to bring you back to live. But your wounds were too severe, your pain had sent you into overstimulation and caused your brain to just stop. 

He gripped your body close to his and he screamed your name over, and over, and over again until he just couldn’t anymore. He felt the eyes of your family, and Harry on him as he pulled you closer to his chest. 

Draco felt his heart shatter, the different pieces falling apart like an unglued puzzle. He screamed for you to wake up. Until he was hyperventilating. In Between the breathes he begged for you to come back, he begged whatever gods were up there to bring you back to him, until he felt a hand on his shoulder. 

“Draco. She’s…she’s gone son.” His mother said softly, as to not break the remaining pieces of her son's heart. Draco stared up at his mom, he looked at her and saw the tears welding up in her eyes. He gripped onto your body tighter, your head falling limp in his arms as he shook his head vigorously. 

“She’s not dead. She’s just tired mom. She’s been studying so well to go to that school in America. She’s been staying up late too even though I told her to sleep. She’s just sleeping mom.” He cried to himself as he hugged your body. 

Draco was tossing and turning in his sleep. Repeatedly saying your name in a hushed tone. You were concerned when you woke up and saw Draco in cold sweats, tossing and turning. You lightly shook him, trying to wake him. 

He woke up suddenly, jerking up from his sleeping position and letting out a horrid scream. His breaths were short, and he continued to say your name over and over.

Not wanting to scare him more, you lightly took his hand in yours as you pulled his face towards you. 

“Daco, I’m here, I’m right here.” 

Draco’s breaths were still heavy, he looked at you with wide eyes and tear stained cheeks. He grabbed your face harshly, he turned your neck from side to side, checking for the scar left by the death eater. He checked your wrists, he checked your face, and he did this over and over again. 

“I-I, you were, I didn’t, I couldn’t-”

“Draco, my love, take a deep breath. You’re okay.” You pulled his hand to your chest as you breathed deeply, trying to get him to breathe with you. His breathing slowed down and you softly smiled at him. 

“I’m here my love. I’m okay.” Draco nodded and pulled his hand away. He laid back down on his back and looked at the ceiling. You laid down on his chest, scotting yourself closer to him to lay on top of him. He wrapped an arm around you and turned himself over so that your head was in his chest. He kissed the top of your head and pulled you closer into him and sighed deeply. 

“Do you wanna tell me what the dream was about?” You asked. You heard Draco suck in a shaky breath before he said anything. 

“It was back during the war. When we had to split up. It was when I found you underneath the death eater. But, this time I couldn’t repel them off of you, this time, I couldn’t…I…You were dead.” You sighed as you remembered the contents from that day. All you could do was let Draco hold you, let him feel the beating of your heart and your steady breaths as you stroke his back. 

“I’m here Draco. You saved me, remember?” Draco smiled at you as he pulled you in closer to his body. 

“What if…Y/n what if I hadn’t saved you?” He asked. You felt the slight shiver in his voice and you knew how scared he was, even to think about it. But you just pulled yourself away, letting him look into your eyes as you smiled at him. 

“Draco. I know you. Never in a million years would you ever not save me. You always have and you always will.” 

“What if a day comes where I can’t get to you?  Where I’m don’t make it in time?” 

“Draco Lucius Malfoy. You always manage to make it just in time. Even so, I can hold my own until you come.” 

Draco laughed and kissed you before pulling you back into his chest. 

“And that you would Darling.” 

[thiccpersonality]

B My Valentine: (aka) A brief love holiday interlude to Damian (Gremlin) Wayne and his even more gremlin-esque family

It was Valentine's Day at Wayne Manor. A usually peaceful and non destructive holiday. Usually you'd expect for a love filled holiday event to be filled with...well, love and affection for each other and remembering what makes you love each other.

But in Wayne Manor, Valentine's Day means more competition, for what you ask? Well, for more of Bruce's approval of course! Every night (actually weeks) before the big day Bruce's family spends the night(s) toiling away at handmade cards and ideas, each trying to outdo the other on their gifts and carefully crafted surprises for their dear dad.

But...they (Richard, Jason and Tim) have an issue. There's extra competition today, not only is that brat Damian (reluctantly admitted by the older boys to be) super talented, but those wenches Bruce (for some reason) adopted into the family suddenly flocked towards Wayne Manor with a competitive gleam in their eyes. The three eldest could practically smell the determination from Barbara, Stephanie and Cassandra.

Bruce's cousin Kate even came, but she said it was for the seasonal goodies and to watch the chaos unfold. Although, the boys and girls are weary about her...the woman can be surprisingly great at hiding her emotions, even to the point of confusing Cass sometimes.

Of course no one lets Bruce in on the fact his family are being competitive on such a loving day, they just are content on letting the man bask in the loudness of his large home. The man always brightens up in his own way when everyone (or almost everyone. Duke couldn't make it) manages to visit, the corners of his lips turn up slightly and everyone has come to notice a happy blush overtakes his usually pale cheeks.

Which brings everyone to now. January 14th: Valentine's Day on a Wednesday at 7am. Richard waking up at a horrid smell coming from what he assumes to be the kitchen, his jaw clenching when he goes to check his hidden camera in the kitchen only to find the device not working and showing a glitchy and static screen.

The acrobat creeps out of his bed and down the hallway and stairs towards his target, his ears honing in on the quiet curses from a woman. Richard slips into the kitchen to watch Stephanie freaking Brown trying to cook...whatever it is? The older can't actually tell with how charred the...pancake? Or some batter like texture is burned and others a mixture of charred and undercooked.

Stephanie gasps at a tall shadow being cast behind her the girl preparing to turn around only to be pressed into the counter as an all too familiar voice whispers softly and all too sweetly in her ear, "Do you need my help, traitor?"

Richard allows the blonde to turn around and smiles down at the flustered girl, "Traitor!? How am I a traitor? We never agreed to work together." Stephanie sputters and blows a strand of hair out of her face.

Richard narrows his eyes at the younger girl and pulls away, "I suppose so. But your actions these past few days were letting me know we had some sort of pact. How could you shut off my cameras like that?" Stephanie look at the taller confused, "You...put cameras up to watch us? What is wrong with this family!?"

From the doorway comes a deeper voice, Jason holding out his hands to show the covert listening devices-aka: bugs/wires that were put in his and everyone else's rooms-when the two turn to look at him.

"Then how do you explain THESE, Stephanie? I know you and Timbo were helping each other bug everyone's rooms. You two thought you could be sooo sneaky."

Stephanie opens her mouth to defend herself, but Tim suddenly appears from a cabinet, stepping in front of the now baffled girl. "Not another word Stephanie, he has no proof. As far as we know he could be accusing us of his own crimes."

A burst of laughter escapes Jason and he pulls out his phone to wave it around, "Are you sure about that? I wouldn't sound so confident talking like that to the person who has video evidence from A CERTAIN SOMEONE'S hidden cameras." Tim gasps and Stephanie curses, the two looking to a betrayed looking Richard who points at the skunk haired teen.

"I-It was you who shut off my cameras! You knew about them and were using them to get blackmail material!"

Tim crosses his arms and huffs, "Kind of sus that he knew about my bugs as well! Almost like he was spying on us the whole time!"

Richard gasps again and turns to Stephanie, "Or almost like he had help shutting things down and figuring things out so a CERTAIN GIRL could sneak her ass downstairs to make Bruce handmade food." Stephanie's eyes widen and she shakes her head, "I demand a lawyer. You can't pin all of this on me! We were helped by Barbara!"

At the confession a curse is heard from what sounds like a speaker, when Jason gets to searching he finds one behind the fridge, Barbara's voice bitter as it speaks. "I'll get you for this, Steph. So what if I helped them both? You both asked help from Cass to take those cameras down as well."

Jason and Steph curse while Tim sips at his suddenly materialized coffee, shaking his head disappointedly. "There's no loyalty in family anymore. Where did the trust go?"

Cassandra jump scares everyone by suddenly appearing on top of the fridge, her brown eyes staring down on them like a judgmental god, "No trust. Only war. You three let downs. Quiet agreement. You break truce-" brown eyes narrow accusingly at Jason and Stephanie-"Now my enemies. Free game."

Barbara suddenly appears from the doorway and immediately starts to pin blame on the two teens.

Chaos soon erupts and everyone is pinning blame on one another. The arguing group not noticing Damian listening from above the steps and smiling to himself at how everything worked out beautifully. He still finds it odd how a mysterious source left a note in his room about all the going ons of his enemies siblings...but he'll count his blessings one by one he supposes.

Damian excitedly rushes to Bruce's room and opens the door quietly, stilling at seeing his father up in bed with Alfred by his side. The two men holding bugging devices and watching videos of everything that happened the past few weeks, Bruce looks up in surprise at Damian before his brows furrow.

"What is all this?"

Damian opens and closes his mouth, too flustered at being caught to respond. At the silence Bruce just sighs and stands up, grabbing Damian's small hand in his and leading him back out of the room. "I assume your siblings are up as well? We need to have a talk about this right now."

Damian bows his head as he's led into the kitchen by Bruce, everyone quieting down at realizing they've been caught red-handed.

--A few minutes later--

"It's touching that you all want my affection...but if this is the only reason you celebrate Valentine's Day is to squabble and one up each other...then maybe don't. A-Am I really that bad at letting you guys know I love and appreciate you that you have to fight for me to notice you?"

Jason frowns at that and shakes his head, "You can be a bit emotionally constipated-" he grunts at the elbow in his side-"But we know you love us! It's more of like...your love is such a treasure we get greedy and want to eliminate any and all competition!"

Bruce looks up at the genuine smiles and nods of agreement from his children, the man sighing and shoulders slumping more. "But I want to love all of you-" Ice blue eyes turn to look at the mess in the kitchen curiously and hopefully-"Oh? W-Were you all trying to make me breakfast? Did you all come together to try and make me food?"

Everyone freezes and looks at each other before coming to a silent agreement, all the Wayne children smiling and nodding quickly, their voices meshing together to sound like a happy symphony.

"Of course! We only wanted you to be happy!"

Bruce's eyes widen in shock and awe, his cheeks flushing happily as he stands and starts directing his kids to do different tasks. "I used to cook with Alfred a lot as a kid! We can cook breakfast together!"

The family get so distracted cleaning up Stephanie's mess that they don't notice Kate and Alfred at the kitchen entrance. The former huffing a laugh and looking at the butler suspiciously, "So how did you do this?"

Alfred keeps his gaze forward and smirks the tiniest bit before patting the red head's arm and turning away. "I had no involvement my dear child, it must be cupid working their magic. You go join them and I'll be right back."

Kate tilts her head but quickly rushes into the chaos to join her cousin and his crazy kids.

Alfred smiles at hearing the laughter and noise coming from the kitchen as he heads up the stairs again. Damian's complaints being heard on Stephanie and Tim's mixing patterns, Richard fighting with Jason on who's going to lick the spoon and Cass and Barbara murmuring quietly on how they'll decorate Bruce's plate to look pretty.

After arriving to Bruce's bedroom again Alfred steps onto the balcony, clears his throat and looks towards the sky, "Master Kent." Only a millisecond passes before Clark-or he should say Superman-is hovering in front of him, deep blue eyes curious on the outcome of his mission.

"So how did everything go? Did you really need to do all this just for them to calm down enough to act...civilized?"

Alfred smiles and nods, "Of course! The one thing we all can agree on is Bruce's happiness, as soon as master Bruce was disheartened by their behaviors they immediately pulled their acts together and are now making breakfast with hi-"

"Alfred? Is everything alright up here? I just thought you'd be quick to come take pi-" Bruce pauses at seeing Clark hovering outside and makes his way over to the two men-"Clark? Is everything okay? You didn't get hit with Kryptonite did you!?" Alfred smirks softly as the final part of his plan is in motion, the older gentleman eyeing the Valentine's card poking out from Superman's red shorts, the butler whispering so only Clark can hear him as he excuses himself.

"I do believe you have something to give master Bruce?"

Clark looks down nervously as the door clicks shut and he hovers closer to the concerned man, taking a deep breath in and shoving the handmade card he crafted for Bruce into his chest. "Happy Valentine's Day!"

Bruce stumbles back just a little and looks at the card, smiling at the words 'B Mine' written on the admittedly gorgeously crafted card and blushing in a mixture of shyness and happiness. "A pun on my nickname? You even drew little bats."

Clark scratches his head and chuckles nervously, "I-I know it's cheesy bu-"

"I'll be your Valentine!"

Clark gasps softly and finally makes eye contact with Bruce, delighting in the pink blush spreading across his face and down to the elegant neck, the blush intensifying at Clark's intense stare. It's at the other man's silence that Bruce repeats himself.

"I-I said I'll be your Valentine...so come and make breakfast with us?"

Deep blue eyes adoringly stare at the endearing human being before him. Clark realizing that Alfred's right as he concedes under the hypnotizing ice blue eyes and the small tug on his cape, the man super speeding into his regular everyday clothes and coming back with a wide smile as he prepares himself for a breakfast with the Wayne's.

They all really would do anything for Bruce's happiness...even if that means sacrificing your safety for a day with your Valentine and his gremlin family.

(I don't know how or why I basically wrote a whole fanfiction for you all? It was supposed to be something shorter...but I obviously got carried away XD. Happy Valentine's Day everyone and I hope whoever reads this enjoys it and has a lovely day, week, month and year.

Please remember to stay safe, happy, healthy and of course lovely as always. 💛)

[nicorobinmywife]

Jealousy, Jealousy | Male Reader x Doffy.

Warnings: reader is as sadistic as Doffy, pet names, violence, murder, blood, yandere tendencies.

the king of Dressrosa was alone in his room taking care of some business, Doflamingo wants to finish as soon as possible so he can relax a little, being in power was great but sometimes taking care of an entire kingdom was stressful.

the sound of the door opening caught his attention, Doflamingo turns only to find a scene he never thought he would find: his boyfriend covered in blood and with a knife in his hand.

"Darling, what on earth have you gotten yourself into?" - Doflamingo, now intrigued, pulls down his right eyebrow in mild confusion, you keep staring at Doflamingo with a cold stare, a look that could freeze even the hot hell you sent that girl to.

"I killed Monet." - you casually respond in a tone even Doflamingo couldn't decipher, the knife is still in your trembling hand, though you feel no remorse for your actions.

"Monet?! You killed our beloved Monet?! Our dear, sweet Monet. My dear, what did she do to deserve this horrible fate, hm??"- Doflamingo's expression softens into disappointment before hardening into annoyance.

"stop calling her that!" - Hearing Doflamingo call her those sweet nicknames made you even angrier and more satisfied that you ended her life.

"Darling, what's gotten into you? Why do you say such horrid things... especially about my beloved Monet?"- Doflamingo begins to frown, his lip curling as he narrows his eyes, he looks hurt, since Monet was part of the family and a very loyal subordinate, but he hides it well. He reaches a pale hand forward, caressing your cheek - "Come now, let's get you cleaned up, hm?"

"I don't like how you always flirt with Monet! That's why i finished her" - you keep mumbling, feeling your blood boil just remembering the way Doflamingo treated Monet, you had no choice but to get rid of her to ensure that Doflamingo remains yours alone.

Doflamingo, now infuriated, grabs you by the collar and pulls you close, his mouth close to your ear. His eyes have turned a dark gray color, almost black, making you shiver, you hear his voice in a dark and hushed tone.

"that's sweet, caring girl's death has nothing to do with our relationship, my sweet. I love you, and you alone." His grip tightens around your neck, almost causing you to struggle to breathe. He leans forward and whispers "Don't ever get jealous again."

"How am I not going to feel jealous if you treated her so well?! sometimes i felt like you liked her more than me" you muttered struggling for your voice to come out while Doflamingo still holds your neck.

The grip on your neck loosens, and you breathe a sigh of relief. Doflamingo's demeanor has returned to the one you're more familiar with: calm and collected. He pulls back and gives you a wide, genuine smile

"my, my. If I weren't the perfect boyfriend, I wouldn't be your perfect man, would I?"Don't worry, my love, I'll treat you much better than I ever treated Monet, hm?"- He laughs, his eyes twinkling. He takes your hand in his, giving you a gentle squeeze, Doflamingo starts to find the situation hilarious, the fact that you just killed someone just out of jealousy makes the sadistic grin on his face grow even more.

"really? will you treat me better than her? promise me I'll always be your special boy!" your face lit up and an excited smile appears on your lips along with the tears in your eyes, happy to finally have Doflamingo's attention.

Doflamingo looks deep into your eyes, his own shining with adoration "Of course, my dear. As long as I breathe, you'll be the most beloved person in the world to me." Doflamingo smiles softly and kisses your forehead. At the same time, he slips a small package into your hand. He speaks softly, almost inaudible. "Open it later, hm?"

"a gift for me?? I'm so happy! I love you so much, Doffy!" you drop the knife to the floor as you open the present, making the tall man laugh as he watches your rush to find out what he gave you.

Doflamingo watches you excitedly as you unwrap the gift. Inside the box, you find the most beautiful pair of earring you have ever seen, they are made of gold with the finest, most expensive gems encrusted in the center, you look at Doffy in amazement, unable to hide your excitement "Do you like it, my darling?"

"Yes! Yes! I love it! They are so beautiful! I can't wait to wear them! I'm going to take a shower first, okay?" your eyes sparkle as they scan the glittering earrings Doflamingo gave you, you could hardly believe that he really gave you such a beautiful gift.

"yes, my sweet boy, go take care of yourself, hm? I'll be waiting for you" Doflamingo nods, still smiling softly, he watches as you leave the room, his gaze still fixed on your earrings the earrings, and the happiness they brought you, had made his heart flutter, Doflamingo is a little upset about Monet's death, but he can't judge you, he also got rid of a lot of people to have you all to himself.

[spenglersglasses]

🎙️Now I know you're asking yourself, 2 chapters in one day? ❤️‍🔥

Well yup that's right... don't get used to it. I just got on a stride and could literally not control myself...

⚠️ FLASH WARNING⚠️

Anyways once again a few disclaimers/reminders before we begin!

While I know it is canon that Alastor is asexual, in this fic he has a rare sexual attraction that develops for a certain someone in particular and is NOT aromatic. If this is something that bothers you or if you are not a fan of the Alastor/Charlie ship (Charlastor/RadioBelle) then this is not one for you my fellow smut enjoyers.

If you aren't bothered then be prepared, this will be a wild ride!

Also, when Alastor has moments of "glitching" or that infamous radio cracking to his voice, his speech will look like this (Ĝ͎͍͓͌͠l̡̟̩͍̐̐̕͞ì͓̞̗̜̇̿͝ẗ̼c̬̮̹̔̒́h͚͇́̓ ̙͕̮̣̎͑͛̚s̟͇̽͞p̫͉͆̈e̡͇͉͐̑̊e̻͞c͙͇̆̏h̺̗̭̙̑̓̄͝), I will be making a note of what is being said, so those who have a harder time can understand it, but I thought it was an awesome effect lol.

*Special shoutout to @animatedglittergraphics-n-more for the GLITCH dividers!

Now without further ado!

D̢͙̯̦̙͎̎̽̇̔̾͊̿̚͜͟A̜̱̫̭̽̌̔̄R̫̬͊̈̊͜Ļ̮̗̲̤͎̙̅͒̿͒̿͊͡Í̱̮͑́͢͜͠N͔̗̘͈̲̤̳̉̅̉̀͗̔͠͝ͅG̢̻̱͐́̆͜͠

(Hazbin Hotel)

When Alastor made a deal with Charlie Morningstar, he knew it was a chance for him to ascend the ranks. Now that it's been weeks since the events of the extermination battle, Alastor decides it's time to collect…what he didn't expect was to slowly fall for the Princess of Hell. But hey, a deal's, a deal.

Chapter 3: Put Your Head on My Shoulder

Also available HERE on AO3. Haven't started yet? Beginning HERE on AO3!

Eventually will be NSFW below the cut!!

- FLASHBACK (7 Years ago) - 

The winds snapped around him like lashes from a whip. Kissing and slicing into his skin, leaving marks of blood in their wake. A pattern of scars that would speak volumes. The great radio demon had managed to escape. Coming too close to meeting his end at the hands of that filthy screen-faced fuck. 

Alastor was seething with rage. His powers had all but dwindled down to nothing, leaving the once power overlord defenseless. Thankful that he had at least been able to take his own pound of flesh from the head of the Vees, before fleeing for his life. Now, past the outskirts of Pentagram City, he found himself. Deep beyond the inner rings of Hell. Cast out into the bowels of which even Lucifer himself had long since abandoned. 

“This can’t be happening.” he groaned, struggling just to continue on. Gradually his movements became slower. Like walking in quicksand, he struggled with every step until he was all but crawling along the ground. The sounds of screaming and radio signals crackling in his ears. And for the first time, Alastor felt truly helpless. It was then, in his most desperate hour, he heard HER voice again.   

“Oh, poor sweet Alastor… what brings thee to my garden?” she asked, waiting for his response as she remained still hidden in the shadows. 

No. Not now, Alastor pleaded inside, feeling the presence growing closer. Unable to leave, she manifested before him. Enormous and horrid, her mouth opening up to reveal her slithering tongue. Splicing itself into tentacles and covered in glowing eyes. Sprouting like sores on its spines as she came closer and closer.  

The sight of her alone could destroy even the most robust of sinners. Like a mutation, colored in shades of black, red, and white she continued evolving—changing. Finally becoming fully formed as she reached Alastor. The radio demon, forcing himself to look up at her. The entity, now appearing as a rather normal looking woman. 

Dark black hair, fading into crimson red, was long and luscious. Her beautiful face, partially obscured beneath a wide-brim black hat. She was imposing to look at. Her Long, red overcoat flowing in the hellish winds. Endless chains coming from the depths of her coats. Emerging from its checkered pattern of black and white, spreading out into the abyss and traveling to Alastor.   

“My favorite pet… Seems we have run into a bit of trouble. Tsk tsk.” she taunted. Alastor’s smile flickering into a snarl for a moment before he spoke.

“Roo! Fancy seeing you here. I—” he struggled, coughing up blood as his radio wave effect crackled in and out. His chest still aching from his wounds and his powers holding on for dear life before he finally collapsed onto the ground. The shadows and spirits he commanded, spinning around him with nowhere to go. Roo smiled, squatting down beside him. Taking Alastor’s chin in her hands and raising his gaze up to meet her. 

“Poor Alastor, letting the TV bother you again I see. You know I can’t have that… after all who else would bring me such delicious souls if not for you.” she hummed, her otherworldly tongue coming out to swirl over his cheek. Alastor knew she wouldn’t let him off that easily. They had made a pact when Alastor first arrived in Hell. The newly deceased sinner, confused and bloodied from his fall into the pit when he saw Roo had been waiting. 

Somehow, she knew he was coming. Standing by in the darkness, watching for him—ready to offer the once proud New Orleans radio host, turned serial killer, an opportunity he would never be able to refuse. Her wicked hand, held out to him, tendering him the chance to become Hell’s greatest overlord. To continue his work started on the Earthly plane. 

All Alastor had to do was agree that every soul who had fallen short of his debts, she’d be allowed on them. Alastor would have full control of the rest, using them, and his newly given powers, to ascend the ranks. To the ambitious and blood lusting Alastor it was a deal that was too good to be true. They shook on it, Alastor and Roo now bound until his death. Alastor, learning quickly that his deal would eventually lead to his death.  

While the stipulations of their agreement had worked for a time, Roo quickly grew greedy. Trying to convince Alastor to go beyond the terms of their deal. Sending her souls when no breach of their contract was made. The sounds of overlords filling his radio waves as he slaughtered them, over and over again, began haunting the rings of Hell. So much so that the mere mention of his name incited fear in their souls. 

HIs last attempt to feast on an overlord was Vox. The demon who had only nearly managed to escape, but not without first taking his swing at the radio demon. Now Alastor was hanging on by a thread. Looking into Roo’s soulless eyes and wondering if this was truly the end or if in exchange for more time, an even more binding deal would be necessary. 

After all, Roo was in fact the root of all Evil. Feeling as though she were equal, but opposite to God than Lucifer himself. A position she clutched tightly enough to bleed.

“I was so close.” Alastor stammered. His voice, weak and pathetic. It was a rare sight to see. If she were being honest, it tickled Roo to see him that way. She still needed him, however and their deal together was still very much not done. There was still more to gain from him, and Roo was never satisfied.  

Alastor suddenly felt like he could expand his lungs. A cold rush flowing through him and the pain, beginning to disappear and he had begun healing. His loyal shadow and souls, pulling themselves back inside him. The greenlight of his power radiating brightly once more. He felt refreshed—alive. 

“See now. All better.” Roo said smugly. Watching as Alastor rose up from the ground, ready to slaughter anyone who stood in his way. “Remember Alastor, you owe me.” she smiled. Winking at the radio demon. Before he could speak, he found himself somehow back in Pentagram City. 

A bit dazed and confused, he strolled down the streets just as he did before. Ready to rumble once again with Vox, after some careful planning, when he noticed that another extermination had already begun. Alastor, wondering to himself why it was happening again soon. Wasn’t only a few days ago that the angels descended to Hell, he asked himself. Sauntering over to Cannibal Town, where he managed to find a calendar hanging on the wall at Rosie’s favorite butcher shop.

When his eyes met with the date, his dials began spinning. Horns growing larger from his head in his panic. Making ungodly sounds that glitched and screeched loud enough to affect everyone traveling around him. Somehow, in the short time he felt he was with Roo, 7 years had passed.   

- Present Day -

Charlie didn’t know why, but she found herself frantically running towards Alastor’s radio tower. Crying hard, the tears spilling with every step. Angry at Vaggie for her betrayal, but even more angry at herself, knowing that she was responsible. That she had in fact betrayed their relationship long before Vaggie’s indiscretion. 

Slowly things had been driving a distance between them. Vaggie’s issues with the hotel, the revelation she was an angel—part of the extermination team to boot, and this thing with Alastor that Charlie couldn’t shake. All of it had been slowly pulling them apart and Charlie did nothing to stop it. Now here she was, running to the man who had stolen her affections. 

Charlie’s heart was raw and bleeding. Her emotions had never been so overwhelming. When she finally reached the door, she began banging, hard and loud, until it swung open. Alastor, spinning around in his chair to see Charlie looking more distressed than ever before. A sight that had unexpectedly made him feel a flicker of worry and concern.  

“Charlie! My dear, just in time for our little announcement.” Alastor beamed, rising up from the chair before coming to greet her. Charlie took one look at Alastor, standing there with what she hoped was a genuinely happy smile and hoping it was for her, when she rushed towards him.

“Alastor.” she cried, quickly burying her face into his shoulder. Alastor was taken back, finding himself unable to let go of her. Wrapping his arms around her as the princess sobbed against his coat. The sound of her cries, making him feel an unexpected pity—even sympathy for her.

“What’s wrong sweetheart?” he asked, the words feeling odd as they fell from his lips. However odd it seemed; he still meant them. Charlie, looking up at him. Her eyes, full of sadness and pain. 

“Vaggie… she… I… we…” Charlie cried, feeling Alastor unexpectedly pulling her in even closer. Both Alastor and Charlie, unable to deny feeling one another’s heartbeats. Their rhythm, matching each other’s intensity. Wondering to themselves, if the other was feeling it too. 

“Shhh…” he said, patting the top over her head, “...it doesn't matter anymore.” he assured her. Charlie felt a smile tugging on her face just as Alastor pulled her off by the shoulders. Looking her dead in the eye. “Now my dear bride-to-be… I suggest we keep the details of our nuptials between us. Heaven knows what kind of madness that might cause for your family. You know should it be revealed that you had just… owed me one.” Alastor chuckled.  

He was right. The situation was bad enough without having everyone in Hell knowing all the gorey details. Charlie nodded her head in response. Alastor smiled, taking a hold of his microphone cane and tapping it against his hand until he found his preferred frequency. 

“We have a new journey to attend to.” Alastor assured her. Sending her a wink.

“Al… what are you?” Charlie began, Alastor placing a finger to her lips. The sound of his laughter ringing out all over Pentagram City. 

“Salutations my fellow sinners. Today is a special day indeed. I know you have all been waiting oh so—patiently for the new broadcast. So without too much more suspense… I thought we might open things with a bang or should I say a bell. Wedding bells.”

The broadcast was sent out all over. Heard by everyone within the city—every sinner, demon, overlord, imp, and hellhound. All of them Wondering what the fuck the radio demon was going on about. Their answer came fast when before they knew it, Alastor asked Charlie to join him on the mic. Their ears piqued as they waited with bated breath.

“...It’s about time I settled down. Asking my beautiful, darling Charlotte Morningstar for her hand… so whaddya say Charlie, will you marry me?” Alastor asked her. The broadcast, finding its way to Lucifer who was halfway across the city in his palace. Spitting out his food when he heard what Alastor had to say. The king of Hell swatting a stack of rubber ducks across the room. Feeling like his skin was crawling at the news. Immediately searching for his phone to call Charlie. Thinking that he’d be well on his way to stopping this soon.

Back at the tower Charlie began fidgeting with her hands. “Um… uh….” she mumbled. Stalling for time while she battled herself inside. The will of her heart and mind at odds. 

She knew what she had to do, this bit was all just for show. Neither one of them wanted the rest of Hell to know the truth. The stench of it wouldn’t be good on either of them. Charlie swallowed back her reservations and looked over to Alastor. “Yes. I will marry you.”

The town was in an uproar. The conversation on everyone’s lips was only about the enigmatic couple. “Oh, I had no idea they were an item.” said one of the sinners who had stopped on the street beside a hellhound in the Pride ring. Another in the Lust ring, mentioning that they were actually perfect for one another if everyone thought about it. There was no escaping it now, everyone would know now. 

In Cannibal Town, an engagement celebration had begun. The crowd, cheering at the news of their delightful princess and Alastor getting ready to tie the knot. Rose, however, was sitting quietly on her veranda. Munching on a few lady fingers, when the broadcast caught her attention. “Hmm… Alastor, just what are you up to?” she asked herself. 

The news had even reached the depths of V Tower. Vox was sitting in his office, feet propped up as he casually watched 666 News while going over some plans. Suddenly anchor Katie Killjoy came on the screen. His attention was captured. 

“Thanks for nothing Tom, and now for more amusing news… Seems everyone’s favorite radio demon overlord and the princess of Hell are set to tie the knot. While no details have been disclosed at this time. You can be sure we will keep you up to date on their upcoming nuptials.” she reported, a glimmer of sarcasm and resentment present in her tone.

The screens around him began shorting out. Glitching and pixelating, covering them completely from left to right. Vox began digging his fingers into the control console. How? Why? 

“Alastor and fucking Charlotte Morningstar?!” he raged, instantly coming to the conclusion that Alastor was making a power play. “That motherfucker!” Vox said, ripping one of the screens off the wall. Tossing it out into the hall just as Velvette had been walking towards him. Cautiously peeking her head in the door frame, noticing Vox’s bad mood. Velvette, relishing a chance to worsen it further. 

“Hmm… What's up your ass now?” she asked. Vox practically heaving, desperately wanting to taste Alastor’s blood. 

“That noisy little fuck has managed to convince Lucifer’s daughter to marry him.” he growled. Velvette, cocking an eyebrow at him before laughing her head off. 

“Jealous?” she asked him, a big smirk on her face. Vox was ready to tear her throat out but tried his best to compose himself. 

“Don’t be ridiculous.” he growled. 

“Let him have her. Why the fuck should we care?” Velvette asked, refusing to let the news ruffle any of her feathers. Vox clearly wasn’t going to be satisfied with that answer. Angry that Alastor had managed to come up with yet another way to gain power. Thinking to himself that there was no way the princess and him were actually in love. 

“Because it gives him more control, you idiot.” Vox began, knowing he had to do something to put a stop to it. “Wonder how things will blow over once they are exposed for the frauds they are. Maybe that outdated, crackling son of bitch will be held accountable.” Vox mused. 

“Just what do you have in mind?” Velvette asked him. The TV screens, all beginning to flash with images of Alastor and Charlie. Then images that appeared like they were from cameras surveilling the city. The system, bouncing from image to image, trying to locate the two of them. Vox, laughing maniacally before answering.

“You will see. Everyone will see.” 

Charlie left the radio tower with unexpected butterflies in her belly. Her head, still however, screaming at her to run. Struggling with herself and the right thing to do. Just as the broadcast had ended, as if On cue, came the call from her father. Lucifer, insisting she get her “royal ass” down to the palace before he’d find a way to shut down the hotel. She knew he would be angry, how could he not, but not this angry. 

Alastor and her father were oil and water. There was no way he was going to accept this marriage without a fight. Charlie, deciding to do her best to convince him. Gathering up her courage and putting on a brave face. Hoping that between the hotel and her father’s house, she could come up with a believable enough excuse for him to let it go. A tall order indeed. Just as she stepped outside, she immediately bumped into someone. 

The impact, sending them down to the ground. Charlie panicked, reaching out her hand for them to take. Feeling stupid for having not seen them when she noticed the hint of wings beneath the person’s silver cloak—It was Emily. 

“Emily! Oh, shit I’m sorry. What are you doing here?” Charlie asked, hoisting the angel up from the ground and helping to brush her off. 

“Charlie, it’s so good to see you again! I was coming to talk to you about something, but gosh I just overheard some of your… um… people… saying that you are getting married?!” the angel smiled, her eyes shining with anticipation and excitement. 

“Oh ah… yeah that's right. Alastor and I. Who knew.” Charlie laughed nervously. Emily jumped at her, arms quickly flying around Charlie’s shoulders as Emily squeezed her tightly in a hug. 

“Oh gosh, that is such wonderful news and oh man I am so sorry to bug you while you are planning… but I need to speak with you.” she continued, her face turning a bit more serious than before. 

“What's wrong? Has heaven decided that—” Charlie began before Emily cut her off. The smile on her face, now practically sparkling.

“Your friend, Sir Pentious… he is with us in Heaven! He has been absolved Charlie, you did it!” she explained. This time Charlie grabbed hold of Emily. 

“What?! Are you sure?!” she asked, almost shaking the poor angel in her excitement. Rejoicing and crying as the smile on her face grew wide enough to rival even Alastor’s.

“It’s true he arrived a while ago. He’s proof that the sinners can be redeemed!” Emily grinned. 

“How? I mean I know how. Fucking Hell we did it!” Charlie cheered, the excitement sending her head spinning. She felt the need to sit down for a moment. “Wait Emily… How come you are just now telling me? It’s been months now… I have been waiting for another letter and nothing…” Charlie asked.

“Oh Charlie, that's why I had to come see you in person. Someone has been intercepting our letters. I don't know who, but I have it on good authority it’s one of Adam’s crew. Don't you worry though, I plan on getting to the bottom of it.” Emily assured her. “I have to go now before anyone gets suspicious, but keep your head up girl, you got this!.” 

“Thank you.” Charlie said as Emily disappeared into thin air. The news was powerful, just what Charlie needed to feel better about everything that had happened between Vaggie and Alastor. While she wished she had time to go wake everyone up and scream their success from the rooftop, there was still the matter of attending to her Father. The boss of Hell was waiting impatiently for his daughter’s arrival. Charlie would do well not to keep him waiting. 

By mid-afternoon Angel and Husk had managed to stumble out of bed. Husk, going straight back to minding the bar as Angel slumped over the sofa in the parlor. The night had proven to be quite enjoyable, the two of them finally consummating their affections, that up until now Husk had been loath to admit. The former cat overlord, softening up to the porn star with a big heart after all.

Angel began flipping through the TV channels. Sending Niffty off to grab him a bite to eat and occasionally making lewd comments at Husk, when he caught a repeat of Katie Killjoy’s segment. Angel’s mouth dropped to the floor. Dumbstruck with the words he had just heard from outta the old cunt’s mouth. 

They had missed Alastor’s special broadcast. Too hungover, and blissfully snoozing, after a night of unbridled passion to have listened. “Well fuck me.. You hearin’ this shit whiskers?” Angel asked, jolting up off from his spot and over to the bar. 

“I told you not to call me that… Already up my ass after one night.” Husk huffed under his breath, a slight smile peeking out from beneath his annoyance. 

“I believe you were up my ass schnookums, but seriously we got a problem. Charlie and Smiles are getting hitched. That’s gotta be a joke right?” Angel asked, cringing at the thought. 

“Charlie’s in love with Alastor.” Niffty chimed in, handing Angel over his sandwich and climbing up to sit on the bar. Husk insincerely smiled,  pushing her gently off the side of the bar. Niffty scurrying off somewhere they didn’t care to know. 

“My money is on Charlie getting herself into some deep shit.” Husk commented. “He’s no good. I don’t have a good feeling about this.”

“What are we gonna do?” Angel asked, Husk letting out a sigh. Resigning himself to having to help figure things out once again. 

“Let’s go talk to her.” he suggested, ready to round the bar and head upstairs. Taking Angel with him to Charlie’s room, when Niffty shot out in front of him. Halting them two of them mid-stride. 

“Charlie is out! Left this morning after the broadcast.” she informed them. Husk, face palming hard as he tried to quickly formulate a plan. 

”Nift, you keep watch over the hotel. Me and…Pookie are gonna go find our Princess.” Husk said. Niffty, nodding in response. With that Husk and Angel left to find her. Unbeknownst to them, Alastor had been lurking in the shadows. Over hearing their little conversation and beginning to wonder himself where Charlie had run off too. 

Deciding that he should be keeping a closer eye on her just in case. Having the budding need to protect her, when suddenly a thought hit him. If Charlie was out and the news about their wedding was going around like wildfire, surely someone who wanted to get at him might take the opportunity to use her against him. Instantly the radio demon fled from the hotel, determined to try and find Charlie before anyone else.   

Charlie was strolling down the center of Pentagram City, ready to have a one on one with her dad. Hoping to convince him that she and Alastor were a real couple. Knowing all too well that things were far from the fantasy romance she had spun in the deep recesses of her mind. As she walked, the residents of the city stopped to talk with her. 

Well wishes and congratulations, coming from all around. Her people, seeming to be truly happy for her. If only she could be happy too. It wasn’t very long into her journey, when she reached the road that would lead her to her father’s.  Unexpectedly finding herself face to face with Vox as she turned the corner. The one overlord she knew Alastor absolutely detested above all others. 

While she had hoped to avoid him, it was too late. He had caught sight of her, yelling her name from across the street. Bringing with him a flood of press from 666 News and other outlets. Cameras and reporters coming out of the woodwork to surround them. Charlie, wondering if Vox had planned this, knowing that it most likely had. Nothing would make him happier than finding a way to get to Alastor. 

“Charlie! Ms. Morningstar! I hear congratulations are in order. What are you doing all this way without your… handsome beau?” Vox asked, practically choking on the words.  

“I ah… well…” Charlie tried to answer, tapping her pointer fingers together. Overwhelmed with all the flashing lights and cameras in her face. Vox was never happier, grinning as he saw how flustered and upset she had become. It was only a matter of time before he’d get the truth out of her.

“Tell us Charlie… is it true that you and Alastor have been making it all up?” one reporter asked. Charlie’s eyebrows raised and her teeth clenched as she wanted to scream back at them. 

“There have been reports that the marriage is a sham, can you comment?” another reporter asked. 

“No that's not… I…” she said, trying to think of something to say. Something that had more weight than just telling them it was real, that it wasn’t just for show. Words that maybe could even convince her it was true. 

“Please… come on you guys. Of course Charlie and Alastor aren’t faking their romance.” Vox said, his face and demeanor suggesting otherwise. It was about that time that Lucifer had come looking for his daughter. Every television had his little princess plastered on every channel. She was in trouble and he knew it. 

By the time he reached her, so had Angel and Husk. All three of them, unable to get to her from behind the hordes of press that had encircled her and Vox. It was clear that this had all been a set up. Lucifer, Husk, and Angel, Watching poor Charlie becoming more and more panicked as the press berated her and there was nothing they could do. 

Lucifer had had enough, pushing through the crowd. Only getting about half way to Charlie when out of nowhere Alastor materialized beside her. His tentacles and horns on full display. The crowd that had been keeping her captive, backing off in terror before the radio demon came back into his usual form. Standing beside Charlie as he took her hand in his. 

Instantly Charlie felt breathless. Was Alastor actually holding her hand? What other choice did they have if they were going to keep up the facade. The small gesture was enough to send her heart pounding once again. Alastor speaking to address Vox and the rest of the crowd. 

“Oh Vox, Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟. You have been such a poor reporter. Maybe staying in your tower is more suitable for your talents.” he snapped, sending a devilish grin Vox’s way. The overlord, wanting so badly to punch Alastor’s smug face. He knew this might be the only chance he may get to screw him over. It was now or never. 

“Well Alastor, if the two of you are so IN LOVE… why don’t you prove it?” Vox hissed. Both Alastor and Charlie, frightened by being called out on their bluff. They had to do something to prove it, but what? Her father and friends, all watching, waiting—wondering what they would do next. 

Just as Vox was beginning to feel that he had accomplished his goal, Charlie grabbed hold of Alastor’s coat. Pulling him close to her and pressing her lips to his. The crowd audibly gasped as their lips met. Alastor, too, was in shock. Finding it hard not to close his eyes to the feel of Charlie’s mouth on his. 

Was Charlie enjoying this? Was he? Alastor wasn’t sure, but he met her half way—and more. Dipping her before the crowd. His willing tongue, sliding into her mouth with ease. Dancing along with hers in the most sincere kiss Charlie had ever felt before. The princess’s eyes, opening a moment in surprise before closing them once again. Both of them lost in the moment. 

Alastor was wondering what had come over him. Never before had he felt this way with anyone, but when they kissed, it was undeniable. Something was happening to him. On the inside, Charlie too was overwhelmed, pretending that he felt for her what she felt for him. The crowd began cheering around them as the kiss was broadcasted across all the rings of Hell. Vox pissed off more than ever before as the two of them seemed to have foiled his plans once again.  

Roo laughed, the radio waves having just reached her. The news of Alastor’s engagement to the princess of Hell was now on her radar. Roo, knowing that she would now more than ever, need to keep a close eye on Alastor. “Oh Alastor, just what are you up to?” 

Notes:

Y̲͐Ŏ͈̮͡U̅ͅ ̡̜͘͠A̧̩̻̻̓͌̏̓̚͟N͉͓͂̋N͕̚O̢̘̬̬̎̑̐͡Y͍̼͒͗͊͜I̹̾N̗̰̝̪̩̈́͑̓͊̕G͖̰̐̉ ̜͉͇͕̊̊̇̾̏͢L̗̜̩͈̱̒̏̚͡͞Ȋ̳Ť͓̱̼̑̆T̙̣̮͈͔́̂̑͛̀Ḷ͎͑́E ̢͉̎̃F̢̦̰͉͉̀̾̇̌͠Ȗ̺C̨͕͋͘͟͡K͚͖͙̅̾̒̅͟- You annoying little fuck.