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tarjapearce · 7 months

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El Diablo Wears Prada

Mafia Boss! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: MINORS DO NOT INTERACT. Cucking, Forced Voyeurism, A bit of Dark Miguel, Dom! Miguel, P in V, Oral (F receiving) Face sitting, manhandling, mild knife play, criminal undertones, Implied mild exhibitionism, emotional distress, mentions of cheating, Dubious morals, implicit non-con oral at the end (M receiving). No proofread.

Summary: Tired of warnings and dialogues with your stubborn and corrupt husband, The Devil shows up at your home.

A/N: Had to get it out of me. jsksj. Finally. Enjoy (?) ❤️✨.

Pt. 2

From the many times people tried to persuade you from marrying your current husband, none of them were successful.

Massimo Bianchi. An important lawyer that had swooped you off your feet with his smile and Italian charisma.

People often told you that he wasn't good. None had to be a genius to know the man was in shady business as his main job was to defend the top dogs of corporate world. He didn't have to mingle with underworld criminals to know how they worked cause he was one.

Corrupt lawyer that always came out successful in his cases. But you remained on the shadows, blissfully ignorant of your husband's doings to the world. All you knew was that he was the head of his firm and that alone earned him a good chunk of money.

You thought him good, though your marriage had been cold for the last few years. Even though he spoiled you with things, you didn't want materialistic rewards. You wanted him.

A true fool. Your friends called you. Sometimes you truly wondered if it

was love or just that attachment that had grown over time? The kind that makes one so used to a person that their absence feels odd yet expected? You didn't know nor cared. As long as he kept coming home at night, things would be right. Everything would be fine and the fake illusion of a perfect marriage would keep playing in the background.

And it was. Until death threats kept coming into your mail. All of them saying the same.

Stay away.

Confrontations weren't really your thing, but the tension had turned so dense that arguments were the main course of everyday. Massimo refused to spill the beans as dread only kept growing inside your already rattled mind. Just like the death threats. All of them signed by El Diablo.

"Amore, he is none. Just a petty criminal that is pissed I'm locking up his associates."

Lies, lies and more lies.

A petty criminal wouldn't put you on edge, wouldn't make you feel watched. Cause in truth, wherever you went the feeling of being observed remained etched in every step you took.

"That's exactly what they want you to believe, cara mía. That's a tactic for scum like them to scare decent people like us."

You didn't pressed any further, rather save your breath. He was as closed as an hermetic safe box.

-----

To relax your nerves you decided to go shopping, and returned home with an idea that you were certain would rekindle the cold flame in your marriage. Massimo seemed way too busy in his work to make an approach, and when you wanted to initiate things, he'd just push you away with the excuse that he was exhausted.

And you were tired of toys and your hand. So, you took a bath, lathered your body in rich and delicious smelling oils, and slipped into an emerald green silk and velvet lingerie set you just bought.

You hid it all underneath a skin tight black dress that enhanced your body shape. Hair done in a messy yet sultry look, a subtle fem fatale makeup with a gorgeous shade of burgundy lips.

The sound of your husband's car breaking violently snapped your attention at the front door. Massimo bursted out through the door and you smiled.

"Hey, darling!"

"Pack your shit. We're leaving."

You frowned in confusion at his sudden panicky and antsy state. But most importantly his tone. Urgent, demanding and scared.

"W-What? Where are-"

"There is no time for questions! Just do as I tell you! Now!"

He grabbed you by the arm and dragged you to the bedroom.

"Massimo, you're scarying me. What's going on?!"

Bianchi groaned as he threw you on the bed, nose flaring in anger at your reluctance.

"Non hai sentito, stupida stronza? Fai quello che ti dico, cazzo!" (Didn't you hear, dumb bitch? Do as I fucking tell you!)

Your teary eyes widened at him, frantic and fumbling with the suitcases. Filling them with papers and valuable objects. Not even clothes, just things you were sure he treasured more than your marriage.

"MOVE IT!" He roared and you blinked away your tears, scrambling out of his sight. He muttered things you didn't understand much as he shoved more papers inside. You grabbed the first suitcase you found and filled in with the necessary.

The sound of cars breaking and revving into the pebbled porch of your luxurious home made Massimo to pull out a gun, you gasped and he ushered you to come closer. You kneeled next to him as he spoke in hushed whispers.

"No matter what happens, you remain silent okay?"

Your trembling hands clung to him as fear begun numbing your judgment. There was a collective round of car's doors slapping shut and footsteps that approached almost in scary synchronization.

"Go through the pool entrance, take this with you and leave. I'll see you in the other apartment"

"N-No, Massi-"

He kissed you, as he pushed a stack of documents further in your hands.

"No matter what, don't let them get this, ok?" His hushed whispers didn't help soothing your already fried nerves

"Massimo!"

"Go!"

He dispatched you with an angry growl, shaking legs scrambled once more ducking down the windows. You removed the heels as you crossed the manor, tears momentarily blurring your sight as you reached the pool. A shot in the air made you still, before you ran back inside.

A few shots and screaming voices followed you. The pained screams of your husband along some grunts made you whimper in fear. You hid behind the kitchen's large breakfast island as steps echoed ominously close. No matter in what direction you tried to go, the men, clad in black and red were there. Awaiting for their prey. Anything that moved.

The paper crumpled under your tight grip, and you covered your mouth, to remain as quiet as possible. Heavy steps retired from your area, and you exhaled in mild relief. Heart pumped hard with every passing beat, you snuck past the island to go back to the main entrance.

And just as you were about to taste freedom, the largest man you had ever seen, clad in a rich black suit and polished shoes, blocked your entrance with a stoic gaze that shifted into a shameless smirk upon seeing you.

Big, strong and long limbs trapped you against him as you cried and thrashed in a meek attempt to free yourself.

"Shh, shhh shh"

His nose nuzzled your neck and you stilled, tears rolled down your cheeks as he pointed a gun to your head. The cold metal against your temple made your breathings erratic.

"Tranquila, corazón. I'm not gonna hurt you." (Relax, sweetheart)

He dragged you to one of the many spare rooms in the house. A tall black woman with a frondous afro was finishing tying Massimo on the ground to then wipe away the blood caked in her brassed knuckles.

His handsome face littered in bruises, a blooming dark eye on his left, a busted lip and his broken nose was all that remained after the bravado he often boasted up. Your heart couldn't help but sink in further at the sight.

You tried to go to his side, but the man only tightened his grip on you.

"Mr. Bianchi."

The man holding you spoke, to then aim his gun to him.

"S-Stop! Please!"

He kissed you deeply as his hands handcuffed your hands back. The kiss was so fast you barely had time to digest it, just like everything that was happening around you.

"You really need to shut your pretty mouth for a bit, cariño."

"Hei! Lasciala!" (Hey! Leave her)

A blonde man kneed him in the stomach, knocking all the air out of Massimo as he doubled in pain.

"Stop!" You squealed in between hiccups. Fat tears rolled down your cheeks, ruining your makeup. The papers you were given were long gone from your hands.

The woman with the afro smirked upon reading them.

"We got it, Miguel."

Massimo gulped at the name. Miguel O'Hara, one of the major criminal Don's in the underworld, El Diablo himself had came to his home to collect his reaps.

"I tried to be a reasonable man with you, Mr. Bianchi, but given your stubborn nature to cooperate and pay what's rightfully mine, I must take drastic measures for you to understand that I don't like being lied to."

Miguel made a sign for everyone to leave.

"M-Massi? What... What is he talking about?"

"You lie to your lovely wife?" His face turned one of disgust and his large feet pushed Massimo's head on the ground, his swollen cheek flattening against the expensive Prada shoes adorning Miguel's feet.

You only looked away as your husband groaned in pain despite Miguel holding back from hurting him seriously.

" You see, cariño. Your doting husband right here, has been fucking around with my associates."

He removed the outer layer of his suit and carefully laid it on a nearby chair.

"People that have worked hard for what they have and have come to me in dire need of protection against this... greedy coward."

Your eyes snapped back to Massimo as he kept folded in pain, his eyes adverted from you.

"Bribing the judges, increasing taxes, charging extra fees to those who need him? And not enough, this cabrón tiene los huevos para pedir dinero en mi nombre." (This fucker has the guts to collect money in my name.)

His meaty mouth clicked in disapproval.

"Is that true?"

He remained quiet, blood caking on his lips and chin.

"Massimo, look at me. Is that true?!"

"I'm really sorry you have to find out this way, preciosa. But don't you worry. I know he will pay."

Dread sunk in further at his words. If there was something you were so sure of, that if your life depended on it you wouldn't fear in risking it, is the little fact that your husband never really had the intention of paying debts.

A habit that stuck with him in your dating stage, something he never grew out of. And now the fatal consequences were only added in his karma balance.

"The hell I am!" Bianchi spat at his shoes, and Miguel, unbuttoned his shirt to then pull out a cigarette. He took a long drag. Cherry scent filled in your lungs as he blew the smoke in his direction.

"I'll put you behind bars, O'Hara!"

Miguel chuckled, showing his canines. One of the reasons of his nickname.

He pulled the cigarette out of his mouth and crushed the ablaze end on your husband's forehead. A new groan of pain along a few Italian curses filled in the room.

You looked away, too scared and stunned to actually do something. What help could you possibly be? You were handcuffed, barefooted and emotionally all over the place. The many warnings about him finally weighing on your shoulders.

Your name was called between breathless and pained yelps, but you refused to acknowledge him.

"Let her go, please." You heard him, speak, but no words or pleas seemed to move Miguel. He just stared at Massimo with a bored expression as he crouched to meet his eyes.

"Hope you have told her that you cheated her with one of my favorite colleagues."

His words were the last stab you could handle, you broke in tears.

"I should kill you for that alone, but that would be too merciful of me."

Miguel stood up and prowled over you, his hands reached for your face and wiped away your tears carefully.

"I am a firm believer of 'An eye for an eye', Mr. Bianchi."

He removed the shirt, leaving his torso bare before you, eyes couldn't help but wander before retreating away, Miguel smirked.

"Are you?"

Massimo glared at him, heaving through the pain as he pulled a pocket knife and approached you.

"I'll have to make you a believer, then."

The sharp of the blade slid down your dress, enough to tear through the fabric covering your breasts. His lips pursed to give an appreciating whistle upon seeing your mounds clad in the velvety and silky texture of your lingerie.

" Con permiso, cariño." (Excuse me, darling)

Big hands took each a piece of fabric to tear the dress in half as you gasped and tried to scurry away from him. A hand grope your nape and you stilled.

One of his hands was big enough to pull you before your husband as the other one rested on the dip of your waist.

"Look at that. Por Dios... Was this a surprise for him?"

Upon your silence he squeezed your nape a bit tighter and you yelped.

"Y-Yes!"

"Too fucking bad he doesn't deserves it, right preciosa?"

"Don't you dare to touch her!"

Miguel nearly cackled at his measly threats. He took a couch and placed it before him. The coolness in the room made your skin crawl, but when he kissed your neck, an involuntary gasp left your lips.

"How long has been since this man touched you?"

His hands roamed your body, fingertips grazed your silky covered nipples as his other hand ghosted over your velvet clad pussy.

Another tiny whimper as he sat down on the couch, you were placed ontop of him, your thighs stretched, making to meet the width of his well sculpted ones, clad in fine wool. Hot and moist tongue caressed the upper part of your earlobe.

"M-Months"

You gulped and his touches stopped.

"You steal, you cheat and are a con man, yet you refuse to touch your wife? And me thinking I was the monster here."

He sat you in one of his thighs and pinched the bridge of his nose, an annoyed and incredulous look on his face.

"Lucky for you I'm in a good mood right now. Vamos a arreglar eso." (Let's fix that)

His hand cupped your chin and pulled you in for a kiss. Upon feeling his tongue invading your mouth, you recoiled but this only enticed him to snake his tongue around yours, sucking it and savoring you. The oils in your skin tickled his nose, a sweet and delicious scent that he'd often gift to his most prominent conquers.

But the way you had so dotingly prepared yourself for the cheating of a man you had for a husband, stirred something within him. You groaned as you demanded for air.

A thin dribble of his saliva connecting your mouths as hot pants fanned on eachother's lips.

He kneeled behind you and rolled your silk and velvet panties down your hips and knees. He tossed them away and bent you over, earning a yelp from you as your face was inches away from your alarmed husband.

"Don't" He shook his head and whispered. It came out like a silent plea that you ignored as Miguel sunk his face between your thighs from behind with a groan. Tongue teasing your mound, caressing softly at your clit.

You trembled and clenched your jaw to avoid moaning too loud. Shame spurted over your face in the shape of a bright red flush and a heavy feeling on your stomach. Big tanned thumbs spreaded your cheeks, to push himself deeper. His tongue lapped and teased; learning your skin's taste and texture that felt wonderful on his tongue and taste buds.

Wet and sloshing slurps made you pant and choke a moan as his hands grabbed your hips, exhorting them to use his handsome face as a seat. His tongue dribbled up and down your shivering and soaked flesh.

You groaned.

"Oh my god!" You mewled as you rode his face softly, "I-I'm so sorry!"

You spoke in between breathless pants as Miguel just moved your hips faster. Your mouth went slack and your needy breath fanned over your husband.

"Cara mía?" He'd whisper with pleading eyes but you were too enraptured in your brewing bliss. By instinct your hips seeked the movements of his tongue, chasing that relief only his mouth seemed to provide.

Legs quivered as they stood in their tip toes that curled in everytime he toyed with your clit. The smoothenes of his ministrations and the unceasing wet slurps he gave in your flesh, inched you closer and closer to the dangerous precipice of corruption and pleasure.

Another man was devouring you with such hunger you didn't think possible, as your lawful husband was forced to watch as you came right before him. It made your knees weak.

Eyes drooped before they clamped shut and your mouth hissed through panting and erratic breaths a needy Yes!

The guards outside the closed door were unfazed at Miguel’s antics. But the smirk on their faces were full of pride. El Diablo, their boss was someone people often had the misfortune of underestimate, until they were no longer laughing and rather plea for mercy or death, whichever came first.

Your hands behind your back slowly tingled as numbness spreaded upwards your arms.

Miguel separated himself and wiped his chin off your delicious slick and pulled the couch closer, he unzipped his pants and spreaded your thighs above his once more. Your chest heaved as you nested against his torso, fire licking your skin at the contact. The pocket knife was brought to your skin as he locked eyes with a disturbed yet aroused Massimo.

The tip of the sharp blades ran down up your torso, leaving a faint pink trail on it's wake, your breath hitching at the sensation until it reached the elastic lower band of your bra that held the cups together.

You didn't expected the quality elastic to give in so easily under the sharpness of a frail looking knife. Your breast spilled from the velvety green confinements and Miguel groaned while he hissed in delight at the sight.

He slapped your husband's face with a serious scowl

"Watch and learn how to treat a woman, cabrón."

Miguel fumbled with his pants and cotton briefs before releasing his aching and hard cock free. Bianchi adverted his eyes, embarrassed as defeat washed over him.

Miguel slapped the tip against your drenched folds, a cue for you to move your hips and smear more of your slick all over him before sinking in balls deep.

The intrusion felt delightful and painfully tight. Inner muscles clamped around him, making his head be thrown back, relishing not only at how hot and delicious you felt, but also at the feeling of your tightness trembling around him.

"Maldita sea preciosa, me estás matando". (Goddammit beautiful . You're killing me)

His hands hooked underneath the back of your knees, making you lean against him completely. Firm and cinnamon skin toned pecs supported your arching back.

Massimo couldn't help but peek under his disheveled hair and he nearly gasped at the sight. You were completely full and stretched at the size of his hefty cock. He could see your lower belly bulging a bit as his shaft rested within you. Bianchi was unable to look away, as emasculated as he felt.

A firm slap of his hips and it sent you curling your toes. Hips accommodated further in the single couch as his lips kissed your neck, canines grazing at your sensitive skin.

"So fucking tight f'me" He plunged you deeper, finally letting your walls meld to his size to then begin his slow thrusting. As much as he was dying to raw you silly, he had enough self control to be careful and not ruin you. That would come later.

It had been a long long time since he actually enjoyed having this kind of revenge. His eyes gave a quick glance to his beaten enemy and smirked in satisfaction when he noticed the bulge in between his imitation pants. Your hands fisted behind you, letting him to stretch you completely.

Your hips gave a soft rut, snapping his attention back to you, surprised you'd seek more of him.

His hands pushed your hips down onto him and your breast bounced. His eyes stalked yours, to assert his control, but you gave in so easily. Months of being untouched had made you a needy and sodden mess.

You were tired of your toys, and now that you had the real deal, it felt too good to let it slip. Things with your husband were surely done for anyways as fucked up as the situation was.

He'd probably be killed either way.

"Eyes on me, cariño" And just then, a sinful symphony of wet and merciless thrust fell upon you. Everytime he slid in made your pussy drool at his punishment. You cooed and stared at him with such a lovely and needy expression Miguel engraved in his mind.

Tears bit at the corner of your eyes as they drooped, taking your mind in this continuous trance of being torn between getting absolutely fucked out and coherent enough to give him a vocal reply like a moan or a praise and apologies to your voyeur.

"Cara mía, Don't do this to me" Bianchi shook his head in denial, but that only enticed Miguel to make it rougher.

Shy moans turned into shameless mewls and implorings that enticed him to ruin you at his contempt. The con man wished to cover his ears, but it was too delicious and forbidden to not indulge. Unavoidable too. Your pleas turned into lewd wailings and howlings. The tears and mascara long caked and dried on your cheeks.

Despite three years deep in marriage your husband would never care enough to leave you satisfied. It was everything about him, not really minding if you finished yourself by whatever means you found or thought right.

But this, this was pure torture. Sure, he didn't do anything to please you, but the thought of you being with another man always made him kick enough with the right amount of jealousy that would keep you satisfied for at least a couple of months while he kept ruining lives.

The slaps and Miguel's grunts turned desperate.

"Just like that! Yes!" You sobbed as his sac slapped against your clit, serving a good amount of punishment to your sensitive nub of nerves.

Your skin shook, breast bounced as you squirmed and twitched in absolute enjoyment.

"Like that, princesa?"

You nodded in between blown breaths, the pressure coiled tightly in the pit of your stomach. Menacing to snap at any second.

The sex and his Oud Wood by Tom Ford undertoned sweat made a puddle of your mind. Mouth gaped and shallow breaths came clenching through gritted teeth but he stopped just when you were about to greet God to release your hands from the back.

He pushed you on the floor on all your trembling fours, wool pants discarded completely, just as his CK briefs. Everything of him exuded with luxury. Even his rutting felt like an exotic meal you've tasted for the first time and you'd never go back to settle for anything less delicious and mind blowing than this.

But poor Massimo Bianchi was a reminder of your golden band that was wrapped around your ring finger.

Miguel's hand held tightly around the base of your neck, both hands melded at the size of your frail joint. both his feet planted on each side of you, caging you between his hips, and he sheathed once more in your already puffed and beaten pussy, making you yelp at the fullness and depth.

"Miguel!" You cried as your hands held on your husband's crossed legs. Your body lurched forward, meeting his cock in a merciless pace it had you bubbling like a total fool.

"I'm... Im sorry" A choked whimper, "Oh god, I'm so sorry Massi" Your mouth mumbled before Miguel squeezed your neck to keep you from apologizing to him, choking words in your gaping mouth.

He didn't deserve your regret, he deserved nothing. He wouldn't give him that much satisfaction.

"But it feels so good!"

You rasped and Miguel smiled darkly.

"Why don't you give him a farewell kiss, cariño?"

You shook your head and he frowned.

"No? Should I stop then?"

A whimper. Eyes twinkled in amusement as you reached for your husband and forced a kiss on him while El Diablo plowed remorselessly into you.

Bianchi could only whimper in pain as you bit his busted lip and kissed him, with a rough motion Miguel pulled you away from him. Your head far too gone into a place only he could reach. His panting and mumblings had turned borderline animalistic. He had praised you through it all and you were more than willing to comply.

Your body went taut, spent walls milked and creamed him as he cradled you against his torso. Body convulsed in bliss as he spilled his hot, sticky and big load inside your spasming walls. He laughed at your husband and at your dumb-bitch gone look.

He gave you a deep smooch before laying you on the couch. He slicked his hair back and caught his breath for a couple of minutes to then put on back his boxers. His eyes darted to an expectant Massimo.

Eyes wide. Still deciding between feeling horrified and happy for having such a twisted fantasy come true. A sick fuck through and through.

"I expect my payment within a month. More than enough time for you to collect what you owe me, Max."

Miguel purposely butchered his name as he threw his thousand dollars shirt you way.

"Put that on. We're taking a ride."

----

His men had escorted you back to his car. An armored black Bulletproof Lincoln Navigator SUV. House slippers was the only thing he had allowed you to get on your feet. The cold seemed to not affect his naked torso as he waltzed out your now wrecked home.

The cologne in his shirt stronger, as it covered your naked body from prying eyes.

"Get inside"

"N-No"

Miguel's nostrils flared in anger, despite the dazing and scrumptious raw fucking he put you through some moments ago, you knew he was a dangerous man.

"Why wouldn't you just-"

"-Ta madre, que entres al puto carro, mujer!" (Fucking shit, get into the fucking car, woman!)

His booming voice made you still with a frown. His temper switching surely made you confused. Tears welled up in your eyes, and seeing the sluggishness you took to get in, made him drag you inside himself, and sat beside you and sighed.

His sour mood was thanks to one of his men, Peter. He had the most awful timing to deliver news. One of his younger recruits had been shot. Not fatally shot, but surely would cost him a great chunk of money. Bribing judges to prevent him from sending him to prison, and medics through thirds would take some resources he was planning to use in another mission.

Miles G. Morales.

The name made his patience even shorter, and it didn't helped you were sniffling as your hands rubbed your ring despite the sore wrists.

After all he did to you you still thought about that cheating cuck?

No. He wouldn't allow it. Not when he has already found a perfect use for you.

As the ride begun he pulled up the middle window, blocking his sight from Ben as he drove. He made a couple of calls, you were recoiling away from him at every chance he tried to wipe your tears. Reject was something he was used to, that didn't mean it set right in his heart. And it showed as he unzipped his pants and pulled out his cock once more.

The calls ended and he tossed the phone back to the inner pocket of his suit and pulled out his gun to rest it on your temple.

Your eyes widened as he spoke.

"Clean it."

Fear clung to you as a new wave of tears rolled down your cheeks. But your mouth beat you to voice your true desires.

"No."

His brow quirked and smiled darkly once more. He grabbed your hair and pulled you down on your knees before him. Legs still recovered from the previous cucking session, not that he cared anyways. The SUV cabin was spacious enough for him to pull the stunt.

"Funny you think you have a saying, cariño. Now be a good girl and clean my fucking cock. You made a mess out it."

The gun was pressed further, the click of his safety removal made you gulp.

Was this the life that you'd get from now on? It couldn't be. Part of your brain refused to acknowledge him as your owner, but the other part was terrified and intrigued to see how all of this would unfold for you. You won't make things easy for him as he was already making it a living hell for you.

You mouth begun to work him as he pulled another cigarette and blew the smoke in your direction.

The Devil seemed pleased. For now.

#miguel o'hara #miguel o'hara x reader #miguel o'hara x you #atsv miguel #mafia au #t writes✨#mafia miguel #miguel o'hara fanfiction #miguel o'hara x y/n #Something for kinktober I guess #kinktober

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artemisgrayy · 2 months

Note

Had this rattling around in the old brain pan- fueled by your incredible writing even more

During the final battle, reader gets badly injured are isolated from the rest of the group. Adam finds her but instead of killing her he offers her a proposition- let him have his way with you (always wondered about demon-strange) and he’ll let you live, decline and he’ll kill you [and maybe still have his way with you]. Alastor overhears and is NOT having it.

Your Unlikely Hero

✨Masterlist✨

Tags: Minors DNI, Alastor x Reader, Adam threatens rape, non-con, gore, violence, fluff, swearing, traumatic events, Alastor is bad at feelings, Alastor to the rescue.

18+ - Minors DO NOT INTERACT

Pain slashes through you like an angelic spear as the fatal wound on your leg gushes streams of crimson across your skin. The smell of iron and cinder invade your senses as you struggle to apply pressure to the seeping gash.

“Well, what do we have here?” A voice cuts through the distant screams and explosions that surround you. Your chest tightens when you lock eyes with Adam who approaches you through the debris, a shit eating grin splayed across his unmasked face. Your heart slams in your throat when you see the look of pure malice in his eyes.

You desperately attempt scramble to your feet, only to feel your leg give out, pain shooting through every nerve ending like dynamite. You're immobilized. You have no way out of this.

“Fuck,” you shriek, shaking uncontrollably from the adrenaline coursing through your veins, fear ripping through you deeper than the wound. He glides towards you effortlessly with malevolent purpose.

“You know,” he laughs, grabbing a fistful of you hair to pull you to eye level, your scalp screaming as individual strands breaking free, “I've always been curious to know what you hell-bent degenerates feel like around my cock.”

You screech, the pain in your leg becoming far less urgent as you kick violently to escape his grasp. The warmth of your tears cut through your dirt-covered cheeks when he smashes his lips against yours. You swallow back the acid building in your throat, nauseous from the unwanted advance.

He rips you backwards, his gaze locking onto yours. You tremble when you observe vile smirk on his face, “How do you like the taste of humanity, bitch?”

“Please stop,” you beg, hopeful for a shred of compassion.

He throws you to the ground and you feel the back of your head connect against the cement with a sickening thud. Everything spins. The crimson sky above you full of screams as the exorcists launch a full scale attack on everyone you've ever loved. Everything closes in around you as Adam stands over you, ready to have his way.

“Adam!” Chimes a radio filtered voice from behind him, “I know you have a penchent for being a nuisance but unfortunately y̴͕̋o̸̫͛u̵̙̚'̷͈̇v̵̪̇ë̶̹́ ̷̻̊f̶͊ͅǘ̴͎c̷̻͆k̸͉̀ẹ̷͐ḑ̴̐ ̶̨̆w̵̠̒ỉ̴̺t̵̹͛h̴͐͜ ̷̜͗t̵͉̾h̴̛̖e̸͓̕ ̵̗̚w̴͚͒r̵̭̅õ̷̡ń̴̦g̵̭̾ ̵̘͂p̴̪͠e̷̲̊r̸͖͗s̵̤̎o̴͖͐n̷̦̿.̶̱̈”

You peak around the angel and see Alastor standing there, his blood red eyes glowing with a rage you had never seen before. Both of his hands are overlapped casually on his cane in front of him — though his stance and expression are anything but casual. His smile holds firm but fury bleeds from his gaze like the saliva dripping down his chin. The furious demon's squared shoulders raise with every irritate breath as he stares down the first man with murderous intent.

A wave of relief flushes through your chest at the sight of him, tears line your eyes but the state of shock you're in prevents them from going further.

“Not yet I haven't.” Adam cackles, standing his ground over his prey.

“Ha ha ha, cute” guffaws the Radio Demon, tilting his head. He slams the bottom of his cane against the cement. Swirls of shadowy demons and tendrils explode violently from the ground, spawning all around him. His eyes narrow, daring the angel to make a move.

Adam turns toward you and his hand shoots down towards your throat. You choke out a stutter as he drags you up in the air by your jugular. Wind whips the hair free from your tear soaked face as you hang 20 feet over the roof of the hotel.

“You want your bitch? Come and get her, you fucking pussy.” Adam beckons as you fight for breath, his nails digging into your skin when his hand tightens. You claw desperately at his grasp, fighting to stay conscious as a dark vignette clouds your vision.

“Gladly.” Alastor promises, “though that's an appalling way to talk about a lady.”

Sharp peaks of shadow laced with an electric storm of green fire from Alastor’s position, slamming into Adam, breaking you free from his grasp. You stutter and gasp, your lungs awarded with the sweet taste of oxygen as your airways shoot open — but the relief is short lived when your body begins free falling.

You close your eyes, ready to accept your fate as you plummet towards the scene below you.

To your surprise it wasn't the cement that broke your fall, but instead something much softer. When you open your eyes you find Alastor's face looking down at you, his eyebrows furrowed with concern. You're enveloped by the feeling of security as he holds you tight against his body.

“It appears as though I'm not the only falling, darling,” coos the demon, pressing his forehead against yours, “I'm sorry I wasn't here sooner.”

You're taken back by the sincere show of emotions from him, “and here I thought you only tolerated me,” you jest, your voice raspy as you continue to fight to catch your breath.

“Heavens, no.” He pulls his head away, reflecting for a moment, “Though I’ll admit, the threat of losing made it clear how much I need you. Let's keep this between us, shall we?” he pauses, “at least for now.”

A smirk forms on your face and you nod in approval. He presses his head to yours once more before setting you down against the wall.

He turns his back to you, facing Adam, who has recovered from the attack, and is menacingly standing a top the broken sign of the hotel.

“Adam — first man, next to die!”

Part 2 now available!

I was HELLA excited to see this prompt in my asks so THANK YOU 👏👏

More like this plz.

✨Masterlist✨

#hazbin hotel #alastor #hazbin #alastor hazbin hotel #alastor the radio demon #alastor fanfiction #radio demon #alastor is in hell for a reason #alastor is bad at feelings #alastor altruist #alastor x reader #alastor & reader #tw noncon #hazbin adam #hazbin hotel adam #adam is a jerk #soft alastor

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sloanesallow · 3 months

Text

need

Sebastian misses his girlfriend. The solution? Well, surprise her, of course! Alternatively, needy and greedy Sebastian. ✨Sebastian Sallow x F!MC Tags: NSFW! MDNI! Explicit sexual content, oral sex (f receiving), face-sitting, needy Sebastian and lots of cheesy dialogue. 2.6k words [Read on Ao3] | [Read on Wattpad]

Sebastian Sallow is an idiot.

He knows he’s an idiot and it isn’t because his roommates Ominis and Garreth tells him so almost every day. No, it’s because only an idiot—a needy, madman in love—would apparate, uninvited to his girlfriend’s flat in Marseille in the middle of the night.

This is the first time since the start of his romantic relationship with Sloane that they’ve spent significant time apart. While he works his apprenticeship at Gringotts in London, she is in the south of France, researching with an elite group of herbologists. Wary of the split from the start, time and distance has made Sebastian unwell, to put it mildly.

His need for Sloane is a thrumming pulse in his veins, an ache that won’t subside no matter how he tries to distract himself. To say he misses her is an incredible understatement. The separation gnaws at him, a relentless hunger that only her presence can satiate.

When did he become so co-dependent—or has he always been this tethered to her?

The yearning threatens to turn him mad. With an address and her in mind, he slips through space and time itself, traveling over six-hundred miles in the blink of an eye. Sebastian can smell the ocean when he materializes with a pop on a dimly lit street, glancing from the parchment in his hand to the placard on the nearby building.

He is an idiot, he thinks to himself again as he climbs the stairs as quickly and quietly as he can until he’s staring at the bronze number 8 pinned to Sloane’s door. It takes him several moments to collect his thoughts, practicing what he might say when she opens the door—Merlin, he hopes she’ll open the door.

What time is it?

His first few knocks are far too gentle, not nearly loud enough for anyone to hear. Glancing at his surroundings as if he is being watched by some unseen force, he shuffles his feet and tries again, this time rapping his knuckles a little harder against the thick wood. Nearly a minute passes and he wonders how acceptable it would be to just break in when the door creaks open.

Sebastian forgets how to breathe.

There she is, standing in the doorway—Sloane, dressed in the tiniest chemise known to mankind. Barefoot and bleary-eyed, she doesn’t seem to comprehend his presence, lazily covering her mouth as she yawns. His restraint is threadbare, fingers twitching at his sides as he resists the urge to yank her into his embrace.

“Do you always answer the door half-naked, sweetheart?” he teases, flicking his gaze from one exposed patch of skin to the next.

“I was asleep—” she mumbles half-heartedly, and he grins when realization settles across her face. “Seb—Sebastian!?”

Fuck it.

He crosses the threshold, and Sloane barely has time to react as he plucks her up off the ground and into his arms. Her legs instinctively wrap around his waist, soft hands framing his face as he kisses her like the greedy bastard he is. Sebastian kicks the door shut, relishing in the heat of her body against his. He kisses her until his lungs burn for air, pulling away just enough to alleviate the sting and look at her through heavy-lidded eyes.

“Where’s your bed?” he murmurs against her lips.

Sloane, in a surprised haze, take a moment to reply. “Down the hall.”

Sebastian steadily makes his way through the small dwelling until they reach her cozy bedroom, an organized mess of journals, potions, and plants. Her bed reminds him of the sleeping arrangements back at Hogwarts—large enough for one person, barely enough room for two. Good thing he doesn’t plan on sleeping.

Sloane lets out a breezy laugh as he flops her down on the mattress, her body stretched out for him to admire. He remains standing bedside, mirroring her delighted expression, thankful she didn’t have a negative reaction to his surprise. She watches him with sparkling eyes as he disrobes, haphazardly shedding his clothes until only his socks remain.

“Are you really here?” she asks as he shifts to hover over her, bracing his weight on his elbows. Her fingers trace the outline of his face again as if he is a figment of her imagination that might disappear.

“Yes,” he simply answers, momentarily slowing down to pepper her face with sweet kisses before trailing down the curve of her neck. She smells like fresh rain and lemon zest. “Have you been dreaming of me?”

Sloane’s coy smile and brilliant blush is enough of an answer. Her breath hitches as he nips the delicate skin above her collarbone. “But why are you here?”

“Isn’t it obvious, sweetheart?” Sebastian teases, a devious chuckle echoing against her ear. He pulls back just enough so their eyes can meet. “I missed you.”

She sighs, something between pleasure and amusement. “It’s been—”

“Three months,” he quips. “I know. But…being apart from you, Sloane…it’s harder than I ever imagined it to be.” He steals a quick peck, and then another. “Work keeps me busy, but when I go home in the evening and you’re not there, I find myself…lonely.”

“And I can’t very well go sneaking into Ominis’ room,” he comments with only a little sarcasm. “Well, I could, but I don’t think he’d appreciate me waking him up for a snuggle.”

“Is that what you call it?” Sloane’s nose scrunches up as she giggles. “You really came all the way here to…fuck?”

“Don’t say it like that!” Sebastian murmurs, hanging his head at the tickle of shame that churns his gut. The optics of his impromptu visit made him out to be an even bigger cad than usual. “Good grief, woman, you know what I mean.”

“Do I?”

“It isn’t like I’m spending every waking hour of every day in a perpetual state of sexual frustration—”

“You aren’t?”

He blinks, realizing Sloane is teasing him. She smirks, leaning up to kiss him in the soft way that always calms his heart. “I missed you too, Sebastian.”

For several moments they simply kiss, languid and unhurried despite the circumstances. A small part of him regrets this impulsive decision, knowing his time in Marseille is limited—a few hours at most. Time will tell if he’s inadvertently added to his suffering when he has to leave, not knowing when they’ll see each other again.

“How long can you stay?” she asks when he breaks away to kiss down her neck and shoulder, as if she can read his mind. Instead of answering right away, he follows the low line of her negligée, her breath hitching when he tugs the fabric down with his teeth.

“I have an appointment at the Ministry in the morning,” he says, words mumbled as he sucks her exposed nipple into his mouth. Sloane moans and it is a sound he’s been yearning to hear. “But I can be…late.”

Sebastian shifts, lowering his body down as he pushes her nightgown up, bunching it beneath her breasts. He kisses across her abdomen, dipping his tongue into her navel and grinning when she squeaks at the ticklish sensation. Sloane lifts her hips when he tugs at the band of her underwear, making it easy for him to peel them away and toss over his shoulder to join the pile of discarded clothes on the floor.

It isn’t until Sebastian is about to make himself comfortable between her spread legs that he notices something…different. He falters, eyes darting up to see Sloane biting back a cheeky smirk. His gaze drops back down to the apex of her thighs, where instead of the soft blonde curls he’s used to seeing, there is only bare flesh.

A strangled chuckle escapes him. “What did you do?”

“I did as the French do,” she simply explains, clearly amused by his bewildered reaction. “One of the other researchers here, a girl my age, insisted on taking me shopping.”

“Is this what they call shopping in France?” Sebastian sarcastically remarks, slowly brushing his fingers across her now smooth skin. Whatever Sloane’s response was to be dies on her tongue as she whimpers, hips twitching towards his touch. Fuck—she’s so warm, and soft, and he suddenly can’t wait to taste her like this.

Just as he’s about to dip his head down, a wicked idea flashes through his mind, a fragment of a fantasy he’d constructed while alone in his bed with only his thoughts and his hand. He pulls away, delighting in the mewling whine that slips from her lips. She watches him with a confused expression as he stretches out next to her, his head comfortably resting on the pillows.

“Straddle me,” he says, rather plainly, flashing a wicked grin. “Sit on my face.”

Sloane’s eyes widen and for a moment Sebastian is worried that he’s scandalized her, but he can’t take it back now. He licks his lips, carefully observing his sweet girlfriend’s face as she mimics the action, clearly envisioning the act in her mind. The second she moves, his hands are on her waist, helping to position her body above his. Her knees press into the pillow on either side of his head, and when she glances down, he thinks she must be an angel sent to escort him to the afterlife.

She flashes a shaky, uncertain smile, “like this?”

Sebastian groans in satisfaction, the scent of her arousal dizzying, intoxicating. She’s barely situated when he darts his tongue out, tightening his grip around her hips to keep her steady. He licks a stripe through her folds, repeating the action in broad strokes as he lavishes her, unable to resist. The taste of her is something he wishes to bottle, to drown in later when he’s forced to depart.

He wraps his lips around her clit, eagerly sucking the bundle of nerves that makes her quiver. Sloane’s breath catches, a broken whine spilling from her panting mouth as she braces herself against the headboard. Her fingers grip the wooden frame and her head sags forward, eyes clenched tight as she succumbs to his fervor.

“Rock against me, love,” he instructs, a raspy request made against her inner thigh. Sloane complies in a heartbeat, brows furrowing together in concentration. Sebastian supports her, his fingers squeezing around her hips as he guides her movements against him. “That’s a good girl—fuck—you taste so good.”

He’s relentless in his desire, desperate to feel her come undone. He pushes his nose against her, nearly smothering himself as he probes her entrance with his tongue, grinning when she makes a high-pitched, satisfied sound. Sebastian groans in response, gripping her tighter as her thighs begin to tremble, her body tensing as he edges her ever closer to oblivion.

“Sebastian,” Sloane gasps out, her voice a strained whisper, a plea laced with the ecstasy he’s drawing out from her. She arches, head thrown back as her chest heaves with every ragged breath. Her rocking becomes more frantic, seeking out the sensations his wicked mouth is conjuring.

Seconds later she shatters, crying out his name in a broken moan that nearly sends him over the edge as well. Sebastian holds her through it all, his arms moving to wrap around her thighs and waist as she convulses against him. All the while his mouth never ceases its frenzy, coaxing out every tremor until she’s slumped against the headboard.

When she starts to teeter, he’s there to catch her, gently placing her against the pillows so she can catch her breath. Sebastian is equally winded, but the slight sting to his lungs is worth it to see such a fucked-out expression on her face. He rolls to frame her body with his own, slotting his hips between her thighs so he can press his aching cock against the slick mess he’s just created.

“Do you need a moment?” he asks, gruffly. He balances his weight on one arm, using his free hand to tenderly cradle the side of her face. Sloane shakes her head, flashing a breathless smile as she shifts to accommodate his eager arousal. She hooks her legs around him and he reaches between them to guide himself, easily sliding into the tight warmth of her core.

As soon as he is fully sheathed inside, Sebastian takes a moment to absorb the sensation, wishing he could stay with her—inside her—forever. His initial rhythm is slow and measured as he watches Sloane’s face, memorizing every flicker of pleasure, every sigh and crease that forms between her brows as she loses herself to the feeling. His pace gradually builds, intensifying with each stroke as the fire between them burns.

Sebastian gathers her hands in his free one, pinning them above her head as he shifts his weight to grind down, the angle allowing him to slip deeper. Sloane responds with a litany of moans, her back arching up to meet each roll of his hips. Eventually his thrusts grow more insistent, more demanding as he craves to see her climax once more. Her legs sinch around his waist and her walls clench around him, urging him on, silently begging for the release that is so, so close.

He captures her lips in a searing kiss, both hungry and panting as the end draws near. Sebastian grunts as he ruts against her, completely losing control as her entire body shudders and tenses with the wave of her orgasm. His own builds at the base of his spine, a heat that threatens to consume him—and he might just let it. Before he can fully realize it, he’s spilling into her depths, the two crying out in tandem ecstasy.

The next coherent thought Sebastian has is when he’s blinking up at the ceiling, his heart still pounding in his ears from the intensity of their coupling. He attempts to steady his breathing, but it’s a lost cause. Instead, he turns his head to find Sloane in a similar state on her back, a content smile curling her lips in an adorable way.

She lazily glances at him and sighs. “I missed you.”

He nearly ruins the moment with a crass joke about her missing his cock, but decides that saying something earnest is better.

“I miss you every day, Sloane. And I can’t wait for you to come home,” he says, reaching over to delicately trace the curve of her cheek with his fingers. “Well, wherever you want to call home, that is. I don’t suppose you’d want to live in a tiny London flat with two other men–”

He stops when he realizes he’s rambling.

“Anyways…” he sighs, brushing through her hair. “I am ready to spend every night like this.”

“Every night?”

“Yes,” he quickly replies. “And morning. And afternoon. Every minute we can spare.”

Sloane smiles, and for several minutes they simply exist, gazing into each other’s eyes as the present and future looms. She exhales, and there’s a sadness in her eyes that he doesn’t want to see. “Are you sure you have to leave?”

“Are you sure you have to stay?” he counters, though he knows it would be unfair to ask her to come back to London. He attempts a tease, “you know, you could come visit me.”

“I could,” she agrees with a nod, though her tone indicates she’s skeptical. “But I don’t have roommates. Ominis may be blind, but he doesn’t need to hear us—” “Nothing he hasn’t heard before,” Sebastian murmurs, earning him a playful pinch. He sighs, closing the distance for a moment to kiss her, knowing their time is running out. “We’ve always been resourceful, sweetheart. We’d find a way to be together.”

The levity gradually melts into a content silence, Sloane scooting to nuzzle against his side with her head on his chest. Sebastian wraps his arms around her, his hands slowly caressing up and down her back until he can sense she’s drifted to sleep.

He’ll stay, just for a little bit longer.

#hogwarts legacy #sebastian sallow #sebastian sallow x mc #sebastian sallow fanfic #sebastian sallow x f!mc #hogwarts legacy fanfic #sebastian sallow smut

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ghostkennedy · 9 months

Note

Hi! I love your blog and I’ve almost read all of your Leon fics, I particularly fell in love with the hybrid Leon one so I was wondering if I could request something?

If you have some free time of course and if you’re up to it!

(It’s similar to the one you’ve already written so I hope it’s not an issue)

I was thinking a dominant hybrid dog/wolf Leon (re4 remake) where the female reader is submissive and also a little curvy, has large breasts and stretch marks along with them ovulating and being super horny and Leon is just absolutely driven feral by their scent so he goes wild and breeds them.

Also roles switched so Hybrid Leon calls the reader a good girl etc etc UwU.

If you could write this it would absolutely make my day!!💖✨

Take It Like a Good Girl

~ Dog/Wolf Hybrid! Leon Kennedy x Plus size! fem! Reader~

Word count: 1295

Content warnings: smut, sexual content, sub/dom dynamic, alpha/omega dynamic, mentions of breeding/knotting/impregnation, uses of sir and daddy, teasing/taunting, very brief blowjob, a bit aggressive

!!!!!!MINORS DNI! GHOSTKENNEDY IS STRICTLY 18+!!!!!!

“Look at you,” a familiar voice speaks up from behind you.

You jump up from your place on the couch. “Leon! You scared the shit out of me. What’re you doing here?”

“This is my home too, isn’t it?” He chuckles at you, teasingly.

His eyes rake up and down your body. Tight shorts that barely cover your ass and a tank top that’s ridden up your stomach, exposing the soft skin of your belly. You’re quick to pull your shirt down, covering yourself back up.

“Sorry, I’m such a mess! You’re home early.” You cringe at your own words. As if both of those facts weren’t obvious.

He takes slow, sure steps toward you. You feel like cowering before him, his complete attention more intense than you could’ve prepared yourself for.

He comes to a stop when his form is towering over yours. You look up and meet his eyes, but he shakes his head at you.

You immediately recognize what he wants from you.

You advert your gaze, staring down at the bit of floor between the two of you as you fall to your knees before him. You lean back and rest your ass on your ankles, clasping your hands behind your back.

This is how he likes you. Completely submitting to him.

His fingers rake through your hair, pulling it out of your face.

“There’s my girl. Are you gonna be a good girl for me?”

Without lifting your gaze from the floor, you reply, “Yes, sir.”

He grasps your chin between his fingers and forces your face up to look at him.

“Always so sweet for me, aren’t you Omega?”

You try to reply but the words are lost on your tongue. He smirks at your loss of words as his fingers trail from your jaw, slowly down your neck, until they’re tracing over the top of your cleavage.

“Or maybe you’re playing innocent. Nothing about the way these tits are practically pouring out of your shirt screams sweet, does it?”

You whine up at him before biting your lip, trying to keep your pathetic noises from slipping past your lips.

“You think I can’t smell how fucking wet you are for your Alpha right now? I can smell the desperation coming from that little cunt of yours. Need me to breed you, huh? Fill up that sweet pussy with my puppies?”

You’re panting, eyes practically rolling into the back of your head as your tongue lols out of your mouth, drool dripping down your chin. You nod your head quickly, causing him to roll his eyes in disapproval.

“Use your words. Now.” He’s gripping your chin again, pulling you to your feet with his single hand.

You whimper as your arms reach out, grasping onto his forearm. Your back is straining as your toes practically leave the floor. He doesn’t break a sweat–his face doesn’t show a single inclination of the strenuous activity he just pulled off effortlessly.

“Y-yes, Alpha. I want you to breed me. Want your cock so fucking bad, please.”

He releases his grip on your chin, bringing his hand to the top of your head and forcing you down to your knees again. You feel lightheaded from being forced up and down so quickly, but it just seems to heighten your arousal. It only fuels the wetness soaking through your panties and causes your thighs to clench together so fucking tightly.

“Fine. If you want it that bad, take it out for me. I can’t do everything for you.”

“Yes, sir.” Your hands shoot up to his crotch embarrassingly fast. Your fingers fumble with the buckle of his belt, your nerves clearly showing. Leon can’t hide the smirk and look of amusement on his face at your eagerness.

You take a deep breath and force yourself to make quick work of pulling his belt off and opening up the front of his pants, pulling them down his thighs. Your mouth waters looking at his cock straining in his boxers.

“Come on, baby. Don’t half ass your job. I said, Take. It. Out.”

Your thumbs slide under the waistband, slowly easing them down until his dick springs free.

A half whimper, half groan leaves your lips as his cock stands at full attention right in front of your face. You stare at it, eagerly awaiting his next instructions.

“Don’t let me stop you, princess. Suck my cock. Get me wet and ready to breed that fucking pussy.”

You wrap your hand around his large cock, slowly pumping him. You’ll never get accustomed to how long and thick his dick is. Every time he takes his pants off, it’s like Christmas fucking morning.

You lol your tongue out of your mouth, right over the head of his cock. You stare up at him as your saliva pools on your tongue until the slow, steady stream flows down to the tip of his cock. The string of saliva being the only thing connecting your mouth to his aching cock.

“Sweet girl,” his hand caresses your cheek, continuing to meet your stare, “If you wanna taste my cock before I pound your fucking cunt, you’d better get it inside your fucking mouth before I say fuck it.”

You wrap your lips around his tip, sucking harshly. Leon’s head falls back as a groan sounds deep in his throat. You watch as his adam’s apple bobs while he swallows his noises down.

He brings his head back, his eyes immediately taking in your hollowed cheeks as you give it your best attempt at swallowing him full.

Something inside him snaps. He pulls your mouth from his cock and pushes you until your back crashes into the floor.

He yanks your tank top over your head, practically destroying the fabric. Your breasts fall out, thankfully you decided against a bra today.

Leon stares at you in amazement, taking a minute to appreciate what belongs to him. You belonging to him makes it all that much better.

He brings his mouth down to one of your nipples, sucking harshly–impatiently. One of his hand wraps around your wrists, forcing them above your head. The other running down your body, caressing your tummy.

His lips trail from your nipple, leaving wet kisses down the valley of your breasts, stopping and suckling gently above your belly button.

His thumb runs over the stretch marks on your tummy softly.

“Fuck, you’re so goddamn soft. Imagine how soft you’d be swollen with my puppies, huh? You wanna have a belly full of my babies that I get to worship every fucking day?”

“Yes, yes! I want it so bad. Daddy, sir, Alpha, please.”

He chuckles at you before continuing to kiss lower and lower down your body. He peppers kisses in the hair surrounding the temple of his absolute obsession and affection.

You’re staring at him intently, lost in your need for him. You can’t bring yourself to do anything besides sit there spread open for him. You’re baring yourself completely for him and all you can do is hope he fucking dives into you soon.

“Such a good Omega, huh? Will do anything to please her Alpha–to earn his knot. You want that? Want me to stuff you full of my come and then knot you? Knot you until I’m sure my puppies are in there?”

You grind your hips up into him absentmindedly. Your body is desperate for any sort of friction. His tongue, his fingers, his cock–it doesn’t fucking matter. You just have to have him anyway he’ll give himself to you.

“Please, Alpha. Fuck me, breed me, knot me. I need you.” “How can I say no to that? Now lay there and take it like a good girl. My good fucking girl.”

~masterlist~

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peachdues · 9 months

Text

The Bitter & the Sweet — a steamy snippet

Rengoku x F!Ice Pillar — Secret Pregnancy AU

A/N: I’m ovulating so here y’all go.

A snippet of the✨first time✨ between Rengoku and the Ice Pillar in The Bitter & the Sweet. It takes place after their surprise first kiss (which I won’t spoil here — at least, not yet)

CW: suggestive/steamy, but I’m not giving y’all the NSFW stuff yet.

Y/L/N, it seemed, had either made good on her threat to roast her crow, or she’d temporarily fired the bird.

The one which now circled above Kyojuro’s head appeared to await his acknowledgement, but as he began walking, the crow began to fly ahead, beseeching him to follow. His curiosity got the better of him, as did his desire to see the Ice Hashira once more, and so, he obliged and followed the sleek bird.

Kyojuro was led up a small, winding path past the Ice Pillar’s estate. Though it was nearly midnight, the path, laid with smooth white stones, was gently lit by a line of flickering torches that he could see tapered off before the path emptied into some kind of clearing. As he drew closer to the path’s end, Kyojuro could smell the faintest traces of the floral notes he only ever associated with the beautiful Ice Hashira.

The end of the path opened to reveal an intricate spring of interconnected pools, connected with rocky formations that appeared to be hewn from moonstone. The spring enjoyed a fair degree of privacy thanks to the thick grove of red cedar trees which encircled it, with the clearing in which Kyojuro now stood being the only entry to and from the heated spring.

The pools themselves looked like something out of a dream. Thick tendrils of steam rolled of the shimmering, sea-green water, and Kyojuro found himself longing to feel the hot water soak into his muscles.

A cursory glance over the spring had Kyojuro’s heart leaping to his throat; for there, standing in the middle of the luminescent turquoise water, was the Ice Pillar herself.

Her back was turned to him, but it was clear as day that the crow had led him right to her while she was in the middle of bathing.

Kyojuro felt a heat rise in his cheeks that had nothing to do with the steamy waters, as his eyes roamed the exposed skin of her shoulders, the water concealing the rest of her beneath its shimmering depths.

Mouth dry, the Flame Pillar made to move away, to get as far from the Ice Hashira’s private bathing spring as he could before she became aware of his presence, but her lilting voice stopped him in his tracks.

“I thought that might be you.”

Kyojuro’s traitorous feet would not move from his spot as Y/L/N rose from the water. Though his eyes immediately fixed themselves on anything but the nude woman — goddess — standing in the middle of the pool, Y/L/N made no effort to cover herself.

“Please, forgive me, Y/L/N, I had no idea-“

“Kyojuro,” she interrupted, her voice soft but sultry. “Please. Join me.”

Kyojuro wondered if it were possible for his heart to have lodged in his throat. He tried, so very hard, to keep his eyes focused on Y/L/N’s face, but his treacherous gaze dropped to what the water had been concealing from him.

At the first sight of the generous swells of her breasts, and the sensual dip of her waist, her skin glistening from the water, Kyojuro was a goner.

Wordlessly, his hands removed his haori and began fumbling with the buttons of his uniform. Though Kyojuro would consider himself fluid and graceful in battle, he found that here, under the heady stare of the Ice Pillar, his movements had become jerky and impatient.

He tried not to let the flush on his face show as Y/N’s stare lowered as Kyojuro shucked his pants down his legs, exposing his hardening member to the warm spring air, but the answering blush that spread across her cheeks as her eyes traced his length had him nearly trembling with desire. Finally freed of the constraints of his uniform, the Flame Pillar stepped from the smooth stones that formed steps down into the hot spring pool.

Kyojuro nearly groaned at the way the steaming water soaked into his aching muscles, the healing properties of the spring working quickly to ease the tension he’d not realized he’d been carrying. The relaxing heat of the spring, however, did little to ease the growing hardness below his navel, and the Flame Pillar found himself grateful for depth of the water.

Slowly, and somewhat shyly, he made his way towards the waiting Ice Pillar. Every step closer to her allowed the details of her exposed body come into focus, setting Kyojuro’s skin on fire.

When he was within an arm’s length of her, he stopped, his eyes fixed on hers.

“You kissed me,” she said simply, her head tilting as she considered him.

Kyojuro tried to swallow around the lump in his throat, but found it impossible given how dry his mouth had become. “Yes, I did, and I apologize, Y/L/N. I was just so relieved -“

“Would you like to kiss me again?” Y/N’s question made his nervous ramblings evaporate from his tongue.

It took him a moment to gather himself enough to respond. “Yes,” he breathed, and Y/L/N took a step towards him, a small smile spreading across her beautiful mouth. “Yes, I would like that very much.”

Kyojuro could not suppress the shiver that coursed through him as he felt Y/L/N’s skin brush against his upper abdomen as she pressed her lithe, heavenly body against him, her eyes dropping to his lips.

“Then you may,” she whispered, tilting her face for him as she waited.

His hands rose hesitantly to rest against her waist, and Kyojuro shuddered at the smooth warmth of her skin beneath his palms.

His dreams had mostly revolved around what it would be likely to simply hold the Ice Pillar in his arms — to press her against his chest as her arms wrapped around his middle, and to be able to brush his lips against hers, softly — teasingly.

But there had been a handful of dreams in which Kyojuro had done far more with the vexatious, beautiful woman, dreams that had reduced him to a sweating mess in his futon, left his heart pounding as his eyes flew open the moment his dream-self would sink into her molten heat. Those dreams had always unsettled him, not merely because he woke up embarrassed for having thought of his comrade in such a lascivious manner; but also because of the gnawing pit of frustrated want those dreams left him with once he awoke.

Besides, Y/L/N had long since been elevated in his mind from that of a mere ‘comrade.’ She had become something far more precious to him.

Kyojuro mused that not even his wildest fantasies about the Ice Pillar could have prepared him for the real thing: for the woman, peering up at him through long, thick eyelashes as she leaned to press her bare torso against his, the water parting around them as as they came together, a matching blush spreading across both of their faces. His dreams had not done her justice, not in the slightest; they had failed to capture the exquisite plushness of her breasts as they pressed against his upper abdomen, or the way her soft floral scent combined with the thick tendrils of steam rising from the water’s surface until his head had been utterly fogged by her.

As he began to close the distance between their lips, Kyojuro was reminded that his reality was far superior to his reveries.

don’t worry, i’ll give y’all plenty of smut before I rip your hearts out

#demon slayer #rengoku kyojuro #kimetsu no yaiba #kny x reader #kny #kny fanfic #demon slayer fic #kyojuro rengoku #kny rengoku #kimetsu rengoku #rengoku x y/n #rengoku kyojurou #rengoku kyoujurou #kny smut #demon slayer smut

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xas24 · 7 months

Note

ok so i saw this edit on tiktok and thought it was so adorable and was wondering if you could write one about it?

https://vm.tiktok.com/ZGJvdrpRS/

maybe going to the award ceremony with pedri and like just being so proud of him? somethibg along those lines please, Thank you✨🩵

so surreal ~ pedri

summary: y/n attending the award ceremony with pedri and being so immensely happy for her boyfriend.

y/n didn’t think this could get anymore ethereal. being at the ballon d’or ceremony, surrounded by so many famous footballers, cameras, interviewers; y/n felt a little overwhelmed yet she didn’t let that feeling overpower the immense pride she felt for her boyfriend.

she’d never been to such a fancy event or dressed up this much in her life before. it all seemed so unreal but having pedri and his family there with her, people she knew so well, relieved some of the stress within her. but this night was not about her, it was about her gorgeous boyfriend and him being recognised for his spectacular achievements in his career so far.

when pedri walked up onto the stage, she realised that her and fernando must’ve been the two people who were clapping the loudest. they both had massive grins on their faces as they watched pedri grab his trophy and move to the microphone.

she could see the slight blush tinting his cheeks and she remembered the way his hands were shaking on the car ride over here. he was nervous about his first biggest achievement since he went professional, he was nervous about saying the wrong thing, speaking too much or too less.

y/n remembered grabbing his hand and pressing a kiss to it, softly stroking his knuckles with her lips. she remembered reassuring him of how proud she was, how crazily amazing he is as a footballer, how he’s deserved everything he’s gotten so far.

“gracias, cariño.” he had mumbled back to her, wrapping his arm around her shoulder and kissing her head.

she had smiled and it was calm for a few minutes until pedri spoke again, “what if i trip whilst going up the steps?”

a laugh escaped her mouth and she remembered shaking her head and kissing his lips to shut him up.

now she sat with brows furrowed in awe, watching as pedri shakily spoke into the microphone. he thanked his parents, his brother, his teammates, his friends for all the love he’s ever gotten. he thanked his coaches and his club for all the support and for making him the best he could be.

and when his eyes travelled across the crowd and onto her, he thanked her. a smile crossed his lips as he spoke to her from the stage, eyes glowing from the lights shining onto him. he thanked her for her endless love and support, her encouragement, her kindness, her patience with him. he told her he loved her and was then walking off and y/n felt as though she could’ve been swallowed by the earth any second.

fernando was nudging her with his shoulder, teasingly laughing and she nudged him back as if telling him to shut up. the blush on her cheeks wasn’t enough to cover the redness that was now taking over her skin, blood seeping to the surface and showcasing the warmth she was feeling all over her body.

she wanted to hug him, wanted to kiss him in that moment, wanted to tell him how much she loves and adores him. she watched him walk back to his seat, not before sending his family a big smile and a wink her way.

god, she wanted to die of happiness.

•••

it was now about two hours later where y/n sat with pedri in the backseat as fernando drove them both home. she could still feel herself buzzing with excitement yet lazy with tiredness as her eyelids started dropping. she could feel her feet aching in her heels and all she wanted was to change out of her black dress and into pedris warm, “handsome-smelling clothes” as she liked to call them.

her eyes roamed around the dark streets they crossed, street lamps dimly peeking through the top of her vision as she listened to fers choice of music faintly playing on the speakers.

it was calm in the car as they were all a bit tired from all the happiness and overjoyed emotions from this evening. y/n was replaying everything in her head, picturing everything like a movie on display. it all felt like a dream, a perfect dream that she didn’t want to wake up from just yet.

the perfect night with the perfect people in the perfect place and the perfect boyfriend. the smile that was plastered on her face widened at the thought of pedris little ending to his speech. the way he appeared so ecstatic to be there will forever be engraved into her memory.

he just looked like he belonged there, on that stage. he looked so happy and handsome and all hers.

she turned to her left, all of a sudden missing the feeling of his hand in hers but what her eyes landed on filled her up with more delight than anything that she had witnessed tonight.

pedri stared down at his award, the golden shine of it glimmering onto his face and lighting up his brown eyes. he held the verge of a smile on his face and she just knew that he was feeling so content right now. his two thumbs caressed the golden material of it as he gazed at it and y/n practically felt her heart clenching at the sight.

she stared at him in awe, feeling even more pride for her boy. there was no doubt he wholeheartedly deserved this, and she was so so happy that she was there to witness his career growing by the day. his dreams were slowly becoming his reality and she couldn’t wait to be there, watching and loving him along the way.

as if he could feel her eyes on him, pedri looked up from his award and when he saw her looking, he gave her an adorable smile. y/ns smile broadened into a grin and at this point, her cheeks were hurting with how much she was smiling tonight.

her hand came up to cup his cheek and pedri let her. “i love you so much.” she whispered to him and only him.

pedris mind was already a whirling mess but her words just seemed to intensify the faint storm brewing in his mind. he still felt like he was dreaming.

but his girl was telling him she loves him and everything couldn’t have felt anymore surreal than it did in that moment. “i love you too.”

#he looks so cute in that gif #pedri #barça #pedri x reader #pedri gonzalez #pedri imagine

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willowser · 10 months

Note

For the fanfic trope game: maybe Neighbour Touya and awful first meeting ?

I loved reading what you wrote for Bakugou Soulmate first time mashup ❤️

LOL OKAY THIS SOUNDS CUTE ! and tysm !!! i'm so glad you enjoyed it !!! 🥺✨💕

so you move in next door to the todoroki's and the first one you meet is fuyumi !!! she's getting out of her little cute car, bringing some groceries inside as you're hauling boxes up to your room from the moving van. and she's very nice ! very sweet ! about your age and you're excited about the possibility of having a friend already !

she tells you a little bit about her family later, when you two go walking around the neighborhood after the sun has started to set and the evening has begun to cool things down. her parents are divorced and she and her brothers live with her mother ! though she and the two younger ones still see their father for certain holidays and in small stints in the summer. she doesn't say much about her other brother, and you don't ask, trying to soak it all up like a sponge.

over the course of the first week, you meet all of them. all of them. little shouto who seems wholly uninterested in you — you can't tell if he's shy or just more interested in the little gaming system he keeps in his hands at all times — and natuso, who blushes when you introduce yourself. rei, who is so sweet ! and invites you to stay for dinner, which you do, and you and fuyumi help her in the kitchen and have a good time ! you meet enji for just a moment, near the end of the week when he comes to visit rei, a serious, withdrawn look on his face that sends you and the kiddos outside. you only barely catch him saying something about touya, but then yumi is rolling her eyes and natsuo is asking you something about having a boyfriend.

it's not until a little later that you're trying to sleep that you hear something OBNOXIOUS outside, like a fist against a window and some ridiculous noise that could be scary if you think too much about it. when you take a peek, there's some dark-haired guy trying to climb the side of the todoroki house, wobbling dangerously and barely hanging on. you spend a moment watching him, wondering if you should maybe call the police, but then the window opens and natsuo sticks his little head out — and plants a hand on his face and pushes him off the house afhahfahf

all the floodlights come on and he's stumbling to his feet just to face plant in the grass, and he looks up when you accidentally laugh out loud. even in the dark, you can see the face he makes at you, before he's getting to his feet and scaling the side of your house, too. you should probably be afraid, but natsuo is still looking out his own window, watching with his mouth open as this guy starts knocking and hissing to be let in.

you don't know why you do. maybe because he's a little cute up close and both natsuo and now shouto don't seem afraid as they watch you from across the yard. just as you yank open your window and he forces himself in, you catch rei coming around the side of the house with a flashlight, arms crossed as she calls out, "touya!" all exasperated. he just face plants into your room and groans into the carpet.

he doesn't move for a minute and when you lightly kick him in the arm, he sits up and is sort of drooling. the bitter smell of alcohol hits you terribly, looking at his handsome, scuffed up face, and he just blinks his bright blue eyes up at you slowly.

he slurs, "you th'neighbor?"

"uh, yeah," you raise an eyebrow, "that's why i'm in the house next door."

it makes him — touya — huff. "cute," he grins enough that his dimples show; the same ones shouto has, the one fuyumi has in her right cheek. and then he groans again, slumping back on your floor as he covers his mouth. "much as 'm enjoyin' this, 'm 'boutta hurl all over your rug."

you barely manage to drag him down the hall to your bathroom.

✨ trope game ! ✨

#PLEASE little natsu having a crush on you i'm screaming #and i just imagine shouto in some mismatched socks sitting on the couch playing on his switch #his hair in his eyes sticking his tongue out as he focuses on whatever game he's playing #and eventually natsuo comes up and offers to 'help him' but shouto just FROWNS and ignores him LOL #and then they fight over who gets to play akfhkahfa #WAAAHHH i love them. i love modern family setting. i love writing little shouto.#this is a whole — my best friend's brother situation with bad kid touya kahdgfkahg I'M A LITTLE OBSESSED WITH IT I THINK #✿ willow writes #✿ ask willow #✿ thoughts: dabi/touya

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starryeyedadmirer · 11 months

Text

✨Ross’s tummy time!!!✨

#starry eyes #ross lynch #ross lynch feet #✨this picture is so cute🥰!!!✨#✨tummy time!!!#✨god his feet are big✨#✨they look so soft and kissable✨#✨his soles look so smooth and soft✨#✨i just wanna burry my nose between his toesies✨#✨i wonder what his feet smell like✨

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lovingapparition · 7 months

Note

Okay I saw that requests are open!! *Happy dance*

Okay so what about Eldritch!König and you frequent the beach? (I am practically a jellyfish from how much I like to be in the water and every time Im floating I can't stop my mind wondering to a certain masked man who may or may not have tentacles underneath said mask-

DONT JUDGE ME

-with love, ✨🌟⭐💫

please. i love this. i was eating this up AS i was writing it. i went a little buckwild, sorry!

The smell of sunscreen and the ocean in the air, the heat of the sun on your shoulders, the coolness of the ocean lapping it away. The perfect way to spend any and all of your free time. On the dryer part of the beach you've got all of your necessities tucked neatly beneath an umbrella. Your cooler, bag, and clean clothes all ready for you. Somewhere in the mix is a small pail of cool rocks and shells you've been collecting.

You'd come alone today, but it didn't feel lonely. People with their friends and families walking, splashing, and chatting around you. The sound of the gulls flying above, looking for the unwitting victim to snatch a snack from. Waist deep in the shallows, your own feet visible to you in the clear water, you couldn't help but feel at home. This was where you were supposed to be.

You're skating your hands over the surface of the water, sending ripples over it's surface as you carefully walk through the water. The ocean was beautiful, but it was easy to slip or step on a sharp rock. You'd learned that lesson too many times. It's when you're bending to examine a particularly weird clump that you can't help but feel.. seen. Watched. It was a given, considering you were dressed for the beach, but this feeling was off. It pinged some buried part of your lizard brain.

From a cursory glance of the shore, you couldn't really pick out anything in particular at first. Just families with their excited kids and mopey teens. Some ways off from you, closer to the shore, is a man. How you hadn't noticed him before was honestly kind of baffling, all things considered.

He was tall. Even from a distance it seemed like his shadow was stretching on and on. You figured the heat had to be playing tricks on your eyes, maybe you needed to get into the shade for awhile. What actually caught your attention was the black hood and clothes he wore. His face had to be hot as hell in that thing, you couldn't even imagine.

As you waded in his direction to get out of the water, you wondered if he was some kind of athlete based on the muscular build he had. Who knows, athletes do weird shit all the time, who were you to judge?

It wasn't until you were a few strides away from him that you realized he'd been intently watching you slowly inch back to the shoreline. Even from the distance still between you, his eyes were so blue. As if they were made of the ocean itself. You stared for an awkward second too long, enough that he tilted his head at you. It looked like something shifted beneath the mask, just slightly. You blinked once, watching it happen again.

Ugh, this heat. It was too much. You were starting to sweat, the brightness of the sun boring down on you now that you weren't so deep in the water. It must be bad if you were seeing things now. Dragging the back of your hand over your eyes, you continue back to your setup, and recline on the towel you'd laid out. Lazily, you toed the pail of rocks and shells to the foot of the towel.

It was better in the shade, on your back. You sluggishly drank from the water bottle you'd tucked in your bag, groaning softly. For awhile you let yourself relax, drying off slowly and feeling that odd feeling recede. You sit up to have a snack, just taking in the views, enjoying the moment you have to yourself. This place just drew you in, it couldn't help it if it hurt you little sometimes. That was the nature of the ocean, and you loved it anyway.

It's not long before you feel that same odd tingle of being observed. You're not subtle about looking around, checking over your shoulders. It's just the same scenery as before, the families and their loud kids. The tall man isn't on the shore anymore. You huff to yourself, trying to shake off that feeling. You decide to pull the pail over to your lap, excited to take a look at the day's haul.

When you're admiring a particularly shiny piece of sea glass, that prickle on the back of your neck comes back like cold water splashed on to you. You can barely contain your jump when you look up to see that man again. He's a respectful distance away from your towel, but he's looking right at you again. His head is tilted as he looks down at you, his wrist cupped in his other hand in front of his stomach. It seems like he might be trying to make himself appear smaller than he is.

It wasn't working.

"I've seen you here, a lot," his accent is like one you've never heard, it almost doesn't match his appearance, in a way.

Blinking up at him, you have to remind yourself to answer him. "Um, yeah- yes. I love this beach." It's not hard to see that, you've come better prepared than most ever do. "I've never seen you before, though. Are you from here?" You venture to ask, since he's not being too creepy.

He takes a step closer to your towel and kneels to sit in the sand. You're close enough you can see the texture of the clothes he's got on. They're damp from the ocean's spray, but he doesn't smell bad. You can't help but wonder if you've actually got heat stroke, from the way his hood keeps shifting like that. It's only ever out of the corner of your eye but it seems like the shadows on the fabric are moving.

You're busy looking at the mask when he answers you, "My family has been here for a long time." At your questioning look, he quickly adds, "We tend to keep to ourselves. I live near the beach." As he speaks, his fingers carefully trace a pattern in the sand you've never seen, and he wipes it away before you can get a good look. "Anyway. I saw you collecting stones, I thought you would like this?" His voice is a little strained, and you wonder if he might be nervous. The movement beneath his mask speeds up just slightly.

Okay, you're definitely not imagining that. Some alien part of you decides that you.. don't mind? What?

Out of his pocket he hands you a stone that you've never seen before. It's a rich blue, so deep in its center it looks black. It's cool and smooth and heavy, fitting perfectly in the center of your palm. Like it was made for your hand to hold it. You look up at him then, a strange feeling pooling in the pit of your belly. He watches your reaction carefully, blinking slowly. You could've sworn his eyes were a clear, bright blue earlier, but now they seemed to match that of the stone.

"I- are you sure? You don't even know my name?" You ask, dumbfounded. Even as you say the words, you can feel something in you that wants to keep the stone. It's yours, you can feel it. Without thinking you cradle it closer to your chest. That action catches his attention, and you can see his eyes carefully track the movement. There's a glint in them that, this close up, seems off. Not human. Right now, you're not sure if you care.

When he looks back up at you, you think he might be smiling, if it's even possible. "I would love to know it."

#konig x reader #konig #my writing #ask #hehehe this is so cute #i loved this #giggling and twirling my hair #konig x you #konig mw2 #konig cod #eldritch!konig #i could definitely be persuaded into writing more of this lmao

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piinfeathers · 4 months

Text

the scars we bare

it's a mid-january miracle, i actually wrote something. after threatening to finally start writing captain swan fics, i actually did it. thank you to all my beautiful friends on discord who encouraged me and to @dykelilypage i'm so glad you liked your gift <333 this is chapter 1 of 2, second one should be up tomorrow probably maybe who knows? :)))

summary: emma swan came to the underworld with one purpose; to rescue the man she loved from hades' grip. and she would do anything, sacrifice everything in order to that happen. when hades offers her a deal, a test of their true love, she takes it. in the end though, the bargain might just take more for them than they have to give. S5B canon divergence

tw: minor moments of gore and torture, also pregnancy and child birth

✨ ao3 link ✨

***

Emma had made plenty of bad decisions in her life. Big, catastrophic decisions, she could admit that. If she were to rank them though, willingly letting herself fall under a sleeping curse to rescue the man she loved from hell, probably would have ended up pretty high on the list.

She stared at him, across the wide airy field of middlemist flowers that wasn’t actually there, but felt nearly as real as she remembered, and wondered if he would feel the same.

“Swan.” Her name sounded like a prayer, rasped from his too-dry throat.

She was running then, or maybe she had started running before, she wasn’t sure. Her arms circled him when they met, his own grip nearly crushing as he lifted her off her feet. Frantic kisses and searching hands probed each other as incomplete pleas stuttered out of each of them.

“You alright?”

“-m fine. You can’t be here-”

“-made a deal. Hades, he had a deal.”

“-have to go back. Please, you have to go back.”

“I can’t.”

The last two words dropped like a stone between them and Killian jerked back. His face was the same as it had been when she’d last seen him alive. It was no longer the swollen mess of throbbing bruises Hades had left it in, when he’d shown Emma her lover’s broken body that was being torn and burnt and flayed apart until she had screamed to make it stop. Killian’s hand, the fingers still intact and no longer snapped and broken, cupped her face. He was trembling. Or maybe that was her. It was hard to tell at this point.

“Emma,” her name came out as a whisper. “Emma, where are we?”

She smiled as something huge and terrifying in her chest threatened to burst open.

“Somewhere... Somewhere in my mind. I think? Maybe,” she glanced around again, trying to focus. “A memory. He kept saying something about memories. Our memories.”

“Love, you aren’t making any sense.”

She laughed and it sounded like a watery hiccup. “Hades. Hades and I made a deal.”

The hand on her face tensed as she watched his expression grow brittle. “Emma-” his throat bobbed. “Emma. What kind of deal? What did you promise him?”

She held up her right hand, her index finger raised. A small droplet of blood welled up in the sensitive pad of flesh at the tip where she had pricked it only moments earlier.

“Sleeping curse,” she tried to keep her voice calm as she risked another glance at him. His face was ghost white, completely drained of colour. “I think he thought he was being funny. Something about “the old Charming family tradition.””

Killian’s head was shaking, his eyes darting away from her as he scanned the edges of the tree line behind them, looking for a way out. “We have to wake you up. Emma you don’t understand, Hades he-”

She watched his gaze go unfocused, the nerve in his jaw popping.

“Hey,” she said quickly, her hand curling around his neck, pulling him back to her. “He can’t get you, not here. Not unless he feels like breaking our deal.”

His eyes were still nervy, and she could feel his pulse jumping beneath her palm, but he focused on her again. God she had missed him. Missed the way he smelled, the way his scruffed jaw felt when she held it. It suddenly seemed so hysterically unfair that they’d only had a few months together. They deserved a lifetime.

“This deal,” he rasped after a moment. “Tell me exactly what he asked of you.”

“He wanted…” she trailed off, trying to remember what he had said. “He said he wanted to test us. To see if what we shared was true love or not. That we needed to really see every part of each other before we made our decision.”

Killian was holding very, very still, his expression unreadable. “And for us to do this test, you needed to be cursed, is that right? Am I cursed as well? Is that how I’m standing here with you?” His voice sounded calm, almost reasonable, as if they were discussing the rules to a complicated board game. But Emma could still feel his panic, could see it starting to edge into the corners of his eyes, turning them glassy. Another one of her huge, catastrophically bad decisions alright.

“No. No you aren’t under a sleeping curse,” she tried to make her voice comforting, but doubted it had much effect. “He said that souls without a living body don’t need curses to be moved to the dream realm, as long as they’re tethered to someone alive they just sort of- “hitch a ride,” or something.”

A smile started to spread across his face, though it didn’t reach his eyes. “So I’m tethered to you then?”

“Seems that way,” she said, her heart feeling like a dead weight in her chest. “I’m not exactly sure about the next parts, he was talking about memory magic, about old wounds needing to be opened up. He said the dream realm made the magic more…” she waved her hand. “Potent or something. Made it easier to find old memories.”

Killian’s hand dropped to her shoulder, his hook resting against her hip. “Why does he want us to explore old memories? Which memories? What does he gain from that?”

“I have no idea, I’m pretty sure he was just talking to hear himself speak at some point.”

“I don’t like this. Hades wouldn’t make a deal unless it was to punish or to trap you here. Emma, please,” his tone was growing frantic and it was making her own nerves start to fray. “Try and remember exactly what he said. Every word. If he’s trapped you here-”

“I don’t remember all the specifics! I was a little distracted watching you get tortured. Hades didn’t exactly have my undivided attention.”

Killian’s eyes shuttered and Emma could feel the slight tremor in his hand as it fell from her shoulder. She wished she hadn’t mentioned the torture. The second she had, she’d seen his face go blank. When this was over, she would kill Hades. She wasn’t sure how exactly, but she would get creative. Somehow she would figure out a way to make the god of death hurt in the same way he had made Killian hurt.

“Look,” she said, her voice thick. “All you need to know is that he can’t hurt us. I made him swear it. He can’t touch you here, and he can’t kill me. Everything that happens now is up to us.”

He looked up, staring at something far away from them, like he was remembering something he’d rather forget. “And if we fail? What then? Does he get both of us to torture for eternity?”

“We won’t fail,” she told him. They wouldn’t. She couldn’t let that happen. Even if it killed her, she would never let Hades touch Killian Jones again. “I got down here didn’t I? And I found you. The hard part’s already done.”

He huffed out a laugh that sounded wrong to her ears. “Your confidence is admirable, Swan. But you don’t know what Hades is capable of. What he does to you once he has you.”

She could feel him slipping from her, could feel the despair coming off him in waves, and it killed her. “There’s a fail safe,” she told him quickly. “I can call off the deal at any time.”

He jerked his attention back to her, suddenly alert.

“But Killian, if I call it off, if I choose to end this, you go right back where I found you. Back to Hades,” she said, a world of meaning in her words.

“But you’ll be safe?”

She looked at him. She should tell him. Tell him the entire truth. Tell him exactly what she had promised to keep him safe, to bring him back home. What she had signed away. But if she told him, if he knew everything, he would never agree to it. He would refuse and send her back and all this would be for nothing. He would go back to the endless, screaming pain that Hades had cleaved into him until there was nothing of him left. She couldn’t let that happen.

“Yes,” she said. “I’ll be fine. But you won’t. Please Killian. Please just let us try this first. We have to.”

He blew a breath out of his nose, looking down when she grabbed his hand in both of hers and squeezed. “Alright,” he said. “Alright, we'll try.”

She grinned as she wrapped her arms around him, kissing him, holding him. His hand moved up to her hair, cradling her head, his forehead coming to rest against hers.

“So. How exactly does this trial work? What do we have to do?”

There was a quick burst of magic to the left of them, and a door twisted into existence a few feet away. The carved wood groaned slightly as it seemed to sway towards them, rocking on its frame, before coming to a stop. They both stared at it.

“Well. Guess that answers that,” she said.

“Indeed,” he sighed, turning back to look at her. She saw a question, huge and all consuming in his stare that went unasked. Right, this was her deal. Her curse. He would follow her lead. Like he always did. Whatever happened, no matter how much it took from her, she would do whatever it took to make sure he got out of this.

“C’mon,” she nodded towards the door. “Let’s get this over with.”

He grimaced as they walked towards it, reaching down to grip the brass handle and opening it for her. “Any idea what’s awaiting us on the other side?”

She squeezed his hand, raising her brows. “Nope.”

They walked through. And the ground beneath their feet vanished.

***

She was falling. Her hair was whipping around her head while the wind rushed up and made her eyes water. Images and noise strobed past like flickering television screens as she plummeted down towards a huge, white nothingness. If she focused she thought she could make out faces, blurred and half formed, but they streaked past her, faster than her eyes could follow. She tried to reach out, tried to find something to grab a hold of, something to slow her fall, but it was like falling through light and sound and a great vast emptiness eager to swallow her whole.

Was this it? Was this what Hades had planned all along? No harm to her physical body sure, but trapping them in some fucked liminal space for eternity? Well. That was a different story.

She tried to look up, or whatever passed for up in this space and suddenly felt something grab her arm. Killian, his grip tight on her, was falling beside her. His mouth was open, mouthing something she couldn’t hear over the roar of noise and wind and her own frantic heartbeat. She tried to reach for him, her fingers outstretched-

When everything slammed to a sudden stop.

Her mind lurched, feeling like the contents of a car with its brakes hit too hard. The tunnel of noise, whatever it had been, was gone, and a blindingly blue sky stretched out in front of her. She tried to blink and turn her head, but her body was locked in place, no longer listening to her.

Only…only it wasn’t her body.

She heard someone call for her, but it wasn’t her name she heard, it was Killian’s. She twisted and when her mouth opened it wasn’t her voice that boomed forth, but a man’s, low and accented, and oh-so familiar to her.

She’d dealt with memory magic before, had stayed up long, magic-drunk nights as the dark one weaving dream catchers together in order to snare memories. She’d been expecting something closer to that, where memories played like snippets of old tv reruns. This was something completely different. She wasn’t just watching Killian's memories, she was living them. In his head.

“What news do you bring me then?” he called.

He sounded happy, and Emma could feel it then, he was excited about something. Somehow, inside his head, she could feel thoughts, could almost reach out and touch them.

He stood on the top deck, near the massive helm. Below him, near the rigging of the sails, a woman with dark hair and seafoam eyes grinned at him. Even before Emma felt the sudden rush of love and recognition, she knew exactly who she was looking at. Milah.

“No news that can safely be shared among mixed company, captain ,” Milah called with a wink. She had Henry’s smile, Emma realized distantly.

The crew around Milah laughed uproariously, and her wide grin was a twin to the one stretching across Killian’s as he swung round the deck to go meet her.

Just as Emma was greedily drinking in the image of the image of the woman who had her son’s grin and Killian's heart, the world suddenly melted and shifted around her. It was as if the memory smeared, all the unimportant bits forgotten and discarded. She moved through short, foggy glimpses of old points in time. Moments alone with Milah, the sound of her laugh, the feeling of her eyes watching him, her laugh lines fanning out from the corners. At the core of it, his love for her was like a warm, even glow in his chest. Emma was suddenly sad that she would never get to meet this woman. This woman with the sharp wit and an easy laugh. She thought she would have liked her.

She kept floating through memories until they solidified all at once into sharp focus. Killian was back on the deck. Only he couldn’t move, something tight twisted around his chest and pinned him down. In front of him, Milah was on her knees. A man stood before her. His hand was buried into her chest.

Emma recognized Rumpelstiltskin as blind, frantic panic tore through Killian, choking her. Killian had never told her explicitly how Milah had died, only that Gold had killed her. But she knew this moment. She knew what happened next.

Rumpelstiltskin's hand tore free, Milah’s beating heart in his grip. He stared at it almost hungrily. Emma heard Killian shout, felt him pull himself free from the ropes binding him and dive for Milah as she slumped back. He caught her, begging, pleading words stumbling from his lips. She felt so light in his arms, a hollow empty shell. They shared a look, Milah’s gaze full of an unspoken farewell.

She heard, rather than saw the crunch of the heart as Rumpelstiltskin crushed it. Milah gasped, dead even before the ashes crumbled and fell to the deck.

Rage built in Killian, blinding and useless. It pushed him to his feet, surged him forward. He cursed Rumpelstiltskin, his hands in fists, desperate to drive them into the scaled skin and rotting teeth of the man who took his love. Rumpelstiltskin's grin was sharp. A blade flashed. Men shouted. A horrible, exquisite pain erupted from Killian’s left wrist and drove him to his knees. Emma wanted to scream.

Everything started moving too fast. The memory grew blurry again, every part of it dulled by the all consuming pain and rage boiling in Killian. He was screaming, driving a hook into Rumpelstiltskin's chest, mocking laughter meeting his ears. Then hands were grabbing him, pulling him back. Pain. Oh god there was just so much pain. Emma felt herself being dragged down with it, Killian’s vision growing black. But even in the darkness she felt the agony, unable to escape it. All alone in his head, she ached.

The memories came and went. Bright flashes of faces crowding into his vision, frantic voices and bloody rags. Blood. There was so much blood. She could smell it, the sharp, copper tang of it. It felt like it coated his tongue, filled his nostrils and tried to drown him. He was being moved, every bump and bounce he felt sending jolts of pain through his system and forcing him back into blank unconsciousness.

Then heat. It was so sudden and sharp it brought him back to bleeding, screaming life. The world around him was thrown into abrupt focus as molten heat was pressed against the agonizing, throbbing stump of his wrist. He looked at the white hot blade being forced against his skin, watched as it melted his flesh and made it bubble around the edges, cauterizing it. He was screaming. It filled his head, an endless bellow of animalistic pain that crashed into Emma like a blow.

When the darkness came for him again, Emma welcomed it with a sob.

She didn’t know how much time had passed when he started to wake again. She didn’t care. Every part of his body was one, long, endless agony. She couldn’t breathe from the force of it. Above him, it grew dark, then light, then dark again. Time moving on with or without him.

A noise woke him at some point. She blinked the grit from his burning eyes, trying to look at where Killian's hand had been severed. His wrist was an angry, mottled thing, the skin around it too pink, too tight. Thick blisters, fat and stretched taunt, seemed too shiny in the pale light below the deck of the ship where they had left him.

Her head lolled, their shared vision turning syrupy around the edges as the pain rose up again and smothered her in burning heat.

She could hear voices, pitched low, all whispering with a panicked edge.

“Fever.”

“ Infection…”

“The amount of blood he lost-”

“No one could survive that.”

Emma writhed inside the shell of the memory. Killian , she sobbed, unsure if he could hear her. Was he in here with her? Was he reliving this too and she just couldn’t feel him? Or had Hades taken him away from her again? It was so quiet now. Killian. Killian. She repeated it again and again, his fever touching her own mind, choking the air from her lungs. How could he bear this? How could anyone bear this?

Fresh pain shot from his wrist and Emma threw her head back and screamed. Tears rolled down her cheeks when it was Killian’s voice, Killian’s pain she heard echoing endlessly in her head as she was pitched sidewise into another memory.

He was vomiting, heat and misery burning him, leaving him feeling feverish and delirious. He was fading in and out of consciousness, through the days, maybe weeks, he could no longer tell. Food and water had to be forcibly shoved into his mouth until he swallowed it, all the while he cursed at them for daring to try and keep him alive in his grief.

Emma watched it all, helpless inside his head. Killian had been right. Hades had found a way to torture them after all. Because this? Watching Killian break apart, unable to help, was agony. She wanted to fight, wanted to scream at the unfairness of it. But she could do neither. She could only sit and witness it all.

More memories faded in and out. In his rare moments of lucidity, the image of Milah, her heart torn from her chest, burned across his brain. His heart felt empty, like a hollow burden, sinking his body down deeper. His love for her burned itself away, twisted and malformed from grief. In its place, only one thought remained. Revenge.

The word repeated itself, over and over, until it became a mantra. As his body healed, as the scar tissue on both his wrist and his heart thickened, he swore it to himself, again and again. He would have his revenge. No matter the cost.

Trapped inside his tortured mind, Emma mourned for him.

***

Killian woke in agony. Pain snaked around his spine and sank into his bones, leaving him too weary to move. For one, terrifying moment, he thought he was back in the underworld. That all this had been a ruse. Emma had never come for him, Hades had simply split open his head and planted the idea of her, giving him hope and then taking it. Yet again.

But this place didn’t feel like his hell. There were voices around him, low murmuring, distinctly human voices.

He tried to open his eyes, but they stayed stubbornly shut. Another wave of pain twisted inside him, washing over him as his back arched and a low, sobbing moan filled his head. Emma. That was Emma’s voice.

“You’re doing great Emma, just a little longer now,” a strange voice near his feet comforted.

He felt her then, Emma. She was scared and exhausted and so, so heartbreakingly sad that it nearly swallowed her.

He wasn’t here, he realized as her emotions buffeted him and surrounded him from all sides. This was Emma’s body. Her memory.

Her eyes opened and Killian looked across the room through tear blurred eyes. She was on her back, doctors and nurses standing around her, their faces hidden with masks and hair coverings. Blinding, overhead lights seemed to beat down on her, making her even more uncomfortable. She tried to move and Killian felt something tug on her wrist.

She let out a small sob of annoyance and pain, looking down at the silver cuff that chained her to the bed. They’d restrained her. She was in pain, she needed help, and they’d restrained her.

Fury raced through him, though he couldn’t tell if it was his or hers he felt, or a combination of the two. She felt so small in the bed, and so completely alone.

Another rush of pain, this one stronger than the first two, sent stars across their shared vision and Emma fell back.

“Okay Emma, you’re ready. It’s time to push, alright?”

She was shaking her head, and Killian felt her panic and his own bleed together. She was giving birth. He was about to witness her giving birth inside her own mind. For some reason the complete invasion of it flooded his brain, made him want to climb out of her head and simply hold her. This was her memory. Hers. He had no right to witness this and Hades certainly had no right to take that choice from her.

But he was here. There was no taking back what had been started. So he sat in the mind of the woman he loved and felt her body tear itself apart.

She was screaming, her body bearing down, the act of giving birth overwhelming her rational brain and simply taking over, trying to push. Sweat poured down her face as she strained, her pain now just a constant steady stream of misery. She wanted it to end. She needed it to end. She just wanted to lay back and sleep and never wake up. She’d fought so hard her whole life and now she had no fight left. She was done.

“You've got this Emma,” a nurse soothed from her left side, her gloved hand rubbing circles on her back. Emma liked her, Killian could feel it. This was a kind person, the only person who treated her like a patient and not a prisoner. A good person, a decent person. Someone who would make an amazing parent. Unlike her.

“Emma, I need you to work with us,” the doctor positioned between her legs called. “You need to keep pushing, your baby is ready to come out.”

Her baby. Killian felt a spark of something light inside her. Emma was too scared to give the feeling a name, but Killian recognized it instantly. Love.

Oh how she loved this little baby. She adored it. She sang it songs in her head and read to it in the bed of her prison cell when everyone else was asleep. She would give anything to her baby if it asked.

So she pushed. She pushed even as she felt like she was tearing in half, when the pain grew knife-sharp and carved her open. Voices blurred around her, all speaking over each other, telling her to take deep breaths, that she was almost there, that it was almost over. She gripped the sides of the bed, shoving forward and pushed until she thought her bones would crack and she would break apart until there was nothing of her left.

“Big push now Emma! Big push!”

She screamed and it was like the ozone in the room ignited, the lights in the room glowing white hot and shattering. Killian felt a punch of raw, primal magic explode from within her and then-

A baby’s cry, small but strong, broke through the silence. Henry. He was here. Killian wanted to look at him, wanted to see the boy's face, the feeling nearly overwhelming him. But Emma didn’t turn to look. She squeezed her eyes shut, and sank into the mattress.

“It’s a boy Emma,” the doctor said, a smile in his voice.

A boy. She had a son. A beautiful, perfect son. He cried out, and Killian felt it drive into Emma's heart like a knife. Every part of her wanted to turn, wanted to take him in her arms and hold him, to soothe his cries and protect him from every bad scary thing in this world like it was her only job in this life.

But…she couldn’t. She loved him more than anything. She would give him anything to make him happy, to keep him safe. And because of that she knew that meant he had to go away. As far away from her as possible. He deserved so much, he deserved the whole world. And she couldn’t afford to give it to him. All she had to give him was a chance. A chance at a better start. Without her. She couldn’t be a mother, couldn’t be his mother. She would ruin him. Taint him somehow. She wouldn’t do that to him.

Killian felt the decision form in her mind, felt her shake her head and grit her teeth, squeezing her eyes shut as tears spilled down her face. He heard the doctor tell her that she could change her mind, that it wasn’t too late. But he knew. He knew what happened next. He wanted to beg her to change her mind, to see that she already was a mother, he wanted to be there and tell her over and over until she believed it. But he couldn’t change the past. He could only watch it.

“No. I can't be a mother,” her voice was so small, it broke him.

He felt her heart tear itself in two. When the doctors carried her baby away from her, when Henry’s small, searching cries faded down the hall into silence, Killian felt as a piece of Emma’s heart went with him. Heartbreak didn’t come close to describing this feeling. It was as if a huge, yawning emptiness split open in her chest where her heart had once sat and consumed her.

***

Killian woke with a start, jerking up and dragging air desperately into his lungs. Beside him, Emma shot up, panting, eyes darting until she saw him. Her face was pale, her hair damp from sweat and sticking to her face. She opened her mouth, her eyes rapidly moving over his face, before flinching away from him and vomiting into the tall grass. He shot forward.

“Emma, breathe. It’s alright, it’s over. What did you-?”

“Probably a good idea to give her a minute,” a taunting voice called from behind them. “She had a hell of a ride in there.”

Killian’s head spun, white hot rage spilling into his blood. Behind them, Hades sat back in a plastic lawn chair, one ankle crossed over his knee, grinning.

“You bloody bastard,” Killian was on his feet, his hand clenched. The overwhelming urge to stomp the heel of his boot into Hades’ cold, dead smile, nearly blinded him.

“Ah, ah, ah!” Hades warned, a single finger raising in the air. “We wouldn’t want to do anything rash now, would we Emma?” He leaned over, calling to her. From her kneeling position, she shoved her middle finger over her shoulder without turning and spat in the grass.

“Hades if you’ve hurt her-”

“Me? Oh no, I didn’t do anything,” he said with mock innocence. “All I did was show her your memory.”

Killian felt his blood run cold. What memory could he have shown her for her to react like that? He knelt back down when Emma moaned, wiping the back of her hand against her mouth.

“Ignore him,” she rasped. “I’m alright. It was-it was just intense.”

“Emma love, call off the deal. I won’t have you in pain like this, I can’t-”

“No!” her eyes burned as she reached up to grip him. “Killian, no, I can handle it. Please. I promise.”

Killian blew a sharp breath from his nose, trying to keep his composure. “Emma,” he tried to make his voice gentle but it still carried an edge. “Love, what memory did he show you?”

Her eyes went distant for a moment, and Killian felt his stomach tighten. He had lived centuries, had done countless brutal things. Any of them were enough to have her react like this. The question was, which one had Hades chosen?

“It was Milah,” she said after a pause. “The moment Rumpelstiltskin killed her, and took your hand.”

Killian went still, staring at her. Hades had shown her that moment? Milah’s face, frozen in fear, floated in front of his eyes, there and gone in seconds. A phantom twinge of pain jolted from his wrist reflexively.

“How much-” he swallowed. “How much did he show you?”

“Oh, I showed her everything, don't worry!” Hades's cheery voice called. “No gory detail left out. Gave her the full surround sound experience, didn’t I Emma?”

Beside him, Emma's face turned pale, her tongue darting out to wet her dry lips. Killian remembered the pain he had felt trapped inside her memory of Henry’s birth, the agony she had gone through, and felt dread turn his skin cold. She had experienced him losing his hand. Even in his most lucid recollections of that day, Killian had never managed to remember that pain in anything other than hazy, blurred-over recollections. He had pushed it so far from his mind to protect himself from reliving that brutal torment.

And Hades had just made her experience it in full, merciless detail.

“You bastard Hades, there was no bloody need to show her-”

“Show her what? The moment you decided to dedicate your life to avenging your one true love?” Hades asked, his eyes growing wide with mock innocence. He turned to Emma and grinned. “No offense of course. No shame in being the runner up.”

Killian surged to his feet, blood pumping, hook raised. He would bloody end him. Here and now.

“Don’t let him get to you.” Emma said, pushing herself up on shaky legs, to grip his arm. “He's not worth it.”

Killian spared her a glance. “He doesn't have the bloody right. He doesn’t have the right to reach into our heads and pull out our pain just to torture us with it.”

“Oh I’m pretty sure I do though. After all,” Hades steepled his hands together, his gaze locking on Emma. “We made a deal.”

“The deal was to test our true love, not whatever twisted game you’re playing at Hades,” Killian snapped.

“And that’s exactly what I’m doing,” Hades said, his tone taking on an edge of false sincerity. “True love isn’t just some cheap card trick, it’s the most powerful magic that exists. To have it you need to love so fully and completely that it’s like second nature. And you can’t have love like that when you don’t really know a person, now can you?”

The god of death gestured with both hands, like a demented talk show host. “Seriously this is a once in a lifetime opportunity here! I really wouldn’t pass this up if I were you. You,” he pointed to Killian. “Get to finally see inside the head of the saviour, finally learn what makes her tick. And you,” his hand swung to Emma. “Get to learn what kind of man Killian Jones really is.”

His words felt ominous. A promise and a curse all at once.

“Ignore him,” Emma said. “I already tried to tell him earlier that this whole test was pointless.” She turned to look at him, her mouth turning up at the corners as a fire lit behind her eyes. “I already know exactly what type of man you are.”

“Mmmm, do ya though?” Hades asked with a hiss of breath, tilting his head to the side. “See, I'm not so sure about that. I mean you two have known each other, what, a few months at most? He’s got a whole three centuries worth of history before meeting you. Entire lifetimes lived before you were even born.”

His gaze sharpened, the edge of his smile growing pointed. “Are you really sure he’s even worth it?”

“Yes.”

Killian sucked in a sharp breath at her sudden certainty. She turned and looked at him, her eyes holding promise. “Yes, I know he’s worth it.”

“Touching,” Hades said dryly. “Really. And for your sake, I hope you’re right. We’ve got a hell of show left to get through.”

Killian could feel the magic starting again, could feel the rush of it start to build, and shook his head. He still didn’t trust this, any of this. He knew how Hades made deals, and he knew there was no way he would give either of them up so easily.

“Emma said you agreed on a fail safe, a way out for her if she needs it. How do we know you’ll honor that?” He asked, stopping the god from conjuring another door.

Hades turned to give them a bored look, as if the question was barely worth his time. “Emma isn’t dead, not yet anyway. I don’t have any way of keeping her bound in the underworld with me. She has the ability to leave whenever she wants.”

“Yeah sure…one small problem though,” Emma glanced between the two of them. “I can’t exactly get up and walk out while I’m stuck in a sleeping curse, can I?”

Hades’s smile turned wolffish, his eyes lighting as if she’d finally said something interesting. “Well now, how funny you bring that up. I was wondering when you would.”

When they both only stared at him, the god’s face fell.

“Hello? Sleeping curse?” he said, gesturing to Emma with a flicking hand. “True love’s kiss? Big flashy light show? Thought this was all sort of obvious? Gods you two really are slow. Here.” he jumped to his feet, hands tucking into the pockets of his pants, and stalked towards them.

“Let me break this down for you. You have two options, one; you see my test through to the end and test the strength of your love, or two;” he held up two fingers on his left hand. “If at any point you want the trial to end, all you have to do is kiss her. She goes back home, no hard feelings, thanks for playing, and you,” he turned to Killian, his grin predatory. “Stay here with me. And we go back to our fun little games.”

They were still for a moment, Emma hand in his squeezing tight. They could. They could just end this now. He could end this now, and save her. He turned to her, caught her tortured gaze. Her head gave one, barely noticeable shake, no.

“Unless, of course,” Hades continued, taking a step towards them. “You’re worried it won’t work?”

Killian blinked. An old, nearly buried dread rising in him like ocean water in a sinking ship. That old fear that Hades was right. That it wasn’t true love at all.

Oh he loved her of course. He had never loved anyone the way he loved Emma Swan. Even the way he had loved Milah had been different. Not any worse or any less but…different. Loving Emma Swan was like loving the sun. It came as natural to him as breathing.

But in his weakest, most torturous moments of doubt he wondered. He wondered if she ever felt the same. She loved him, of course, in her own quiet way. And he had taken that love and cherished it, held it closely to his heart and lived off it, satisfied with all she gave him.

But. True love? In the depths of her heart was it really true love? The uncertainty of it killed him. And he knew that Hades was perfectly aware of that fact. He had practically split Killian’s head open, torn out chunks of him. Every fear, every doubt, every agonizing thought that Killian had ever felt, Hades knew. And now he planned to torture both of them with it.

“We’ll keep going with the trial.” Emma said, breaking Killian’s thoughts apart and scattering them. “But we need real memories this time, not whatever sadistic thing you find in our pasts that you feel like torturing us with.”

“Ugh. Fine then, since you two want to be boring, we’ll do this your way! Let’s start at the beginning.” He flicked a hand through the air and another door appeared before them. “No more skipping to all the fun bits first. Off you go!”

They stared at it for a moment. It seemed to pulse with magic, threatening and inviting all at once. In his hand, her fingers were cold, the knuckles white where they gripped him tightly. He shifted, lifting his hook and brushing a lock of hair from her shoulder. Her eyes found his and locked on, a question in her eyes. He waited.

“What memory did he show you?” Emma asked finally, glancing up at him. “I’m guessing it was one of mine. Which one?”

Killian debated not telling her. Did she really need to know how Hades had stolen that moment from her? But her face was resolute, her gaze steady. There was no point withholding this from her.

“You were in the hospital,” he said, watching her face. “Giving birth to Henry.”

“Oh.” she said, so quietly he barely caught it. Pain flashed across her face, fast and sharp, before her walls went up again and her expression grew blank.

They both turned to look at the door as it swung open, the hinges squeaking slightly. He gripped her hand tighter, felt her hesitation before she squeezed back. Side by side, they walked through together.

#captain swan #killian jones #emma swan #there is probably a lot of spelling mistakes in this #i wrote all of this on my phone 💀 not a joke #steph writes #cs fics #cs fanfic #captain swan fanfic

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here-but-forgotten · 1 year

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content note: mainly stu. early fluff - late mentions of murder - mentions of noncon/dubcon. a lotta stu. a couple headcanons, a couple fic concepts.

rambles | scream '96 - poly & separate | pt. 7

there is a break before the darker stuff at the end so you can move past that if you don't want to read it. always let me know if i miss a content/trigger warning in the tags !! this is just for fun i do not want to hurt anyone.

................❣️🔪🖤❣️🔪🖤❣️🔪🖤................

❣️ 🥺🥺 listen here I am cold and touch starved what I wouldn’t give for idk some one per-sè stu were to hold me damnit. stu with a crush on you offering to hold you under a blanket when you come to his house a little too cold. pulling you to lay on top of him, arms warm and snug. leading you to bury your face into his neck. taking you to his bedroom when you fall asleep, tucking the two of you into bed. will squeal if you touch him with cold feet.

❣️ when it gets cold or chilly stu explicitly gives you sweaters of his to wear. enjoys if you style it with your clothes or blatantly put it on top of all of it. billy mysteriously has some of stu’s sweaters. mysteriously. unexplained. also still smell like Stu’s laundry soap ANYWAY

❣️ stu can and will act like a puppy around you. doesn’t even matter if he’s still acting out the plan with Tatum and Sidney. refuses to listen to anyone but you or Billy (romantic or not). only whipped and ready to listen to you.

❣️ Billy probably has seasonal depression.

❣️ no Billy doesn’t want to look at holiday lights 🙄 yes he’s driving you and stu to go look at them tonight. yes he’s bringing coffee/hot cocoa. no he doesn’t enjoy it he’s not smiling he’s anGSTY 🙄

❣️ on that note, stu wants to sit in the front. he also wants you to sit in the front. billy will have to drive at 10 miles per hour because you're sitting in stu's lap in the front seat. i am begging you to not do this.

❣️ they 100% will grope and touch you while you're innocently looking at lights. billy will break for a second if you give him some pay back. stu would happily have sex right then and there.

❣️ stu definitely does that thing where the moment he gets slightly overstimulated he just whines and babbles and gets really grabby. but he also will not stop/ask you to stop.

🔪🔪🔪🔪 the darker stuff

❣️ I’ve said similar in other posts and it’s because I’m a whore for this concept- the two of them planning a ✨murder✨ and oops, baby ends up being there. stu tall ghostface getting you separated from your friends, grabbing and tying you up for later, leaving you bound on a bed. leaving you to wonder when youre next, listening to the screams and slamming. tall ghostface silently returning, groping and caressing you, condescendingly wiping away your tears just to cut your panties off to continue his assault. making you wetter and wetter until he abruptly leaves, leading you bound, exposed, and worryingly horny.

❣️ poly- Billy n stu corrupting you; beginning with gentle touches and breaking down your boundaries. Constantly touching you. Pressing their hips against you. Teasing you in Stu’s kitchen with a knife. Teaching you why your gut keeps tightening and your thighs keep burning. Billy beginning to sneak into your bedroom to help you touch yourself at night. Stealing your first kiss. Stu showing you his Dick and how to stroke it. Teaching you to kiss with tongue. Both of them cornering you in a movie night, Billy holding you against his front as he gropes your chest and kisses you while stu eats you out until he is bored. Promising you it’s all for your own good. Desensitizing you to blood and gore and screams. Easing you into a place into their plan. Promising you that you’ll be safe. Promising you they’ll be okay.

#stu macher #stu macher x reader #billy loomis #billy loomis x reader #poly!ghostface x reader #poly!ghostface #billy loomis smut #stu macher smut #scream 1996 #scream smut #tw murder #cw murder #cw noncon #cw dubcon #tw dubcon #please always let me know if i miss a tw or cw #rambles

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xxoxobree · 11 months

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Viral Pt. 2 - Avatar Apocalypse AU

Part 1

Fem!Omaticaya!Reader x OC ,Reader x Neteyam

Word count- 4.5k

Warnings. - Violence,Mentions of blood , cursing , mentions of blood, mentions of sickness.

I felt my heart pounding in my chest as we trekked through the eerie forest, K'amran clutching my hand. We were looking for shelter, but what we found was far from comforting. The once brightly glowing trees were now dull and wilted, casting an eerie shadow on the ground. The foul smell in the air made my stomach churn, and the distant screams and whimpers sent shivers down my spine.

As we walked deeper into the forest, I noticed that all of the animals seemed to know something was wrong also. The birds were eerily silent, and the rustling of leaves that usually accompanied the forest was absent. The only sounds were the crunching of leaves under our feet and the occasional snap of a twig.

Suddenly, a blood-curdling scream pierced the silence, making me feel like my heart had stopped. It was most likely some poor soul being devoured. Tseni looked at me and K'amran, We all knew we had to keep moving, despite the fear that was consuming us.

As we continued walking , listening to the sounds, I couldn't help but wonder what had happened to this once-beautiful forest. would we ever make it out alive? Did Eywa know sickness was upon our land?

✨The Alliance✨

"With regret and sorrow weighing heavily on me, I called out to Neteyam. Hurrying towards him, I realized that my shot had barely missed him, but it was still enough to graze his shoulder, leaving behind a small cut. Frantically, I scanned his and Tuk's bodies for any other injuries.

"Are you guys okay?" I asked as I examined the cut , my voice shaking with fear that I may have hurt them.

"We're fine, we're fine," Neteyam reassured me, holding out his hands.

Relieved, I pulled him into a quick hug, thankful that he was unharmed.

I bent down to Tuk's eye level. Her sweet golden orbs locked onto mine, and it was clear that she had seen things she wasn't meant to see. Fear was written all over her face, and my heart broke for her. I pulled her into a long embrace, whispering sweet words into her ear, hoping that she would find some solace in my words.

After a while, I stood up and made my way towards Lo'ak, the last member of the Sully's. I scanned his body for injuries, but he brushed me off and walked away, clearly not wanting any help."

I let out a deep sigh and turned to walk towards Neteyam again. My mind couldn't help but wander to the rest of the Sully family and what may have happened to them. Was the Olo'eyktan dead? Is Neytiri okay? It must have been heart-wrenching for her to leave Tuk behind. And sweet Kiri, what happened to her?

I looked at Neteyam, sadness etched on my face, and he gave me the same look. I could tell he was holding it together, trying to be strong for his younger siblings. At least I had the peace of not having any living family left now. No one to be strong for but myself.

I cast my eyes down my feet being my focus, about to speak to Neteyam again when Tseni stepped in between us, his weapon drawn and the arrow's tip pointed at Neteyam's heart. It would be a quick kill.

"Kehe ,Tseni stop," I pleaded with him, attempting to push him out of the way. But he remained unmoving. Tears streamed down Tseni's face, revealing the emotions he had been trying to hide.

"How do we know you're not one of those infected things?" Tseni directed at Neteyam stepping closer to him arrow still pointed ready to fly at any moment. Despite the accusation, Neteyam remained unfazed, looking Tseni in the eye as he stood protectively in front of his younger siblings.

"You have fucking eyes, we're not infected. Now move.” Neteyam hissed.

The mood suddenly turned hostile as Tseni and Neteyam bared their teeth and emitted low growls from their chests, ready to attack each other at any moment. I felt my heart racing as I watched them, unsure of what to do.

I heard a bow being drawn from behind me, and I closed my eyes tightly, sighing as I cursed under my breath. "This cannot be fucking happening."

"How do we know you're telling the truth?" K'amran added, fueling the fire.

"Look, just let us go and you won't have to worry about whether we're infected or not," Lo'ak said, attempting to diffuse the conflict. His efforts proved futile as K'amran shoved me out of the way and walked toward Neteyam.

I quickly positioned myself between the two.

"K'amran, these are the children of Olo'eyktan. Please, stop this nonsense," I pleaded with him.

I gave him a hard push to the chest, causing him to stumble back a bit. K'amran's gaze shifted to me, strong and unyielding.

"There is no more Olo'eyktan, Y/n. It's everyone for themselves. Us against this sickness " I knew he was right, but I couldn't live with myself if any harm came to Neteyam and his siblings. Too many have been lost and it was obvious they weren’t a threat.

"Just give me the word, K'amran," Tseni said, his voice still laced with pain.

"Don't do this K'amran."

Neteyam used my distraction to kick Tseni off balance, disarming him and putting him in a hold a knife at his throat. I could see the fear in Tseni's eyes as Neteyam tightened his grip on him. The knife flush to Tseni’s skin creating a small slice that seeped droplets of blood.

K'amran lunged forward to try and help Tseni, but I managed to stop him. I knew that Neteyam was too dangerous to take on and that any attempt to fight back would only make things worse.

I looked up at K'amran, his face contorted with anger and frustration. I knew that what I was about to do again wouldn't be easy, but it was necessary.

I reached out and took hold of his arm, restraining him gently but firmly. "No," I said, shaking my head.

At first, he resisted, his muscles tense as he tried to break free. But then, something shifted within him, and he yielded to my grip, his face hardening with resignation.

"I'm gonna let him go, and we're going to leave." Neteyam said, dangerously calm, looking at everyone before motioning his head, telling his siblings to walk ahead of him.

I looked at Neteyam, fighting the urge to show the pride that welled up in me. He was always a formidable warrior, but also gentle and shy. Neteyam let Tseni go tossing him to the side and nodded to us before setting off after his siblings. I sighed in relief before I turned to K'amran and Tseni, feeling less than happy with their actions, and folded my arms.

I walked over to Tseni tilting his head with my hands examining the damage that Neteyam had done to his neck. Luckily for him it was a minor injury.

"K'amran, why would you do that? Tseni, I'm disappointed in you. I expect that from K'amran, but not you."

"Save it, Y/n. We need to keep moving, maybe find some food," Tseni said, picking up his weapon cutting me off pain still laced in his voice as he brought his hand to his throat gently rubbing it.

I watched as he walked ahead of us. "Mad Neteyam whooped you?!"

I chuckled, trying to lighten the mood if I could, considering our situation.

“That’s not fucking fun-“

Suddenly, we heard a little girl scream cutting Tseni’s off . My eyes widened in fear,when I realized that it could only be Tuk. I quickly wrestled my bow off my body and armed myself before darting as quickly as I could toward the noise.

"Y/n, come back!" I heard K'amran scream at me before I heard his footsteps behind mine. To my horror, both Neteyam and Lo'ak were being attacked by infected Na'vi. The infected were relentless, their screeches echoing through the air as they clawed and wrestled with Neteyam and Lo'ak. Their teeth gleamed in the light, and I knew that they were trying their best to sink their teeth into the skin of their victims, spreading their sickness and misery.

But despite the odds stacked against them, Neteyam and Lo'ak were holding their own. They fought back with all their might, their bodies moving in a dance of survival as they tried to fend off their attackers.

I took a deep breath, nocked an arrow, and let it fly. The arrow hit its mark, striking the Na'vi that was attacking Lo'ak in the head and killing it instantly.

But before I could turn to help Neteyam, I saw an arrow whiz past my ear, striking the beast in the neck and felling it in one swift motion. I turned to see K'amran, bow in hand, a look of fierce determination on his face.

"Lo'ak, Neteyam!" I screamed, my voice echoing through the forest. But when I reached them, I was met with a sight that chilled me to the bone.

Lo'ak stood there, his face blank and his body trembling. He fell to his knees, letting out a heart-wrenching sob that seemed to shake the very ground beneath us.

Neteyam quickly came to his brother's side, pulling him into a tight embrace. He rocked him back and forth, murmuring soothing words and trying his best to console him.

As I watched Lo'ak break down in tears, my own eyes filled with tears too.

I couldn't even imagine what he was feeling - his life flashing before his eyes as he fought for survival against the infected creatures. It was a miracle that he was still alive, that any of us were still alive.

Tuk came over, and Neteyam brought her into the hug, kissing her forehead. It hit me then that it was very very dangerous for us now, and we needed to stick together, we needed each other to survive.

Pushing myself up from the ground, I took a deep breath and looked around at my friends. They were all shaken, their faces etched with worry and fear.

But I knew that we couldn't give up - not now, not ever. If we were going to survive this, if we were going to make it through the dark days ahead, we needed to stick together.

"If we're going to get through this, we need to stick together," I declared, my voice ringing out loud and clear. "None of us can do this alone. We need to be there for each other, to support each other, to fight for each other."

Everyone's attention shifted to me, and I felt a sense of determination welling up inside me. I knew that the road ahead would be long and difficult, but we had each other - and that was the most important thing of all.

It was silent for a while as everyone tried to process what I just said before Tseni spoke.

"Are you serious, Y/n? He just tried to kill me. “

I knew I would get pushback from K’amran and Tseni, but I didn’t care.

"Did you not just witness what happened?”

"Maybe he's right, Y/n," Neteyam chimed in.

I threw my head back in annoyance.

"I'm not taking no for an answer," I said, walking toward Tuk and extending my hand for her to hold. "Come on Tuk Tuk, let's try and find some pretty flowers for your hair," I smiled at her. She returned the smile grabbing my hand.

✨Camp✨

Our journey to find shelter continued, every step we took feeling heavier than the last. My feet ached and throbbed, screaming for rest, but we all knew that we couldn't stop - not when our lives depended on it.

As we trudged ahead, the world around us grew darker and more foreboding. The sky was heavy with clouds, and the air felt thick and humid. But even as the sweat trickled down my face, I kept my gaze fixed on the distant horizon.

With each passing moment, the urgency grew stronger. We knew that we weren't safe out here, not in this wild and dangerous place. We needed shelter, and we needed it fast.

We knew that out here, in the wild and unpredictable landscape, we were a target. If the infected didn't get us, then the predators that lurked in the shadows certainly would. And so, every step we took was a step closer to danger - to the brink of death itself.

I looked over to my right to see precious little Tuk peacefully asleep on Neteyam's back. His eyes flicked up to mine, and I gave him a small smile, which he returned. I looked at him with admiration, my heart swelling with pride. He was such a good brother - always there for his family, always putting their needs first.

"You're such an amazing brother," I told him, my voice filled with admiration. "The way you comfort your brother, the way you accommodate Tuk - it's truly incredible. You've grown into such a great young man Neteyam.”

He looked at me, his eyes shining. "Thank you," he said softly, frowning a bit, letting me know he was upset.

I stayed silent, looking at my feet, not being the best at comforting others. I wanted to help, but I didn't know the right words. I searched my mind of all the words all the phrases I knew finally coming up with something.

Just as I was about to speak again, K'amran suddenly pushed his way between us, causing me to roll my eyes in annoyance. I stopped in my tracks and grabbed his arm, forcing him to slow down and turn to face me.

"Kamran, come on," I said with exasperation. "He's our friend.”

As we stood there, I felt a sense of frustration and disappointment. Why did he always have to be like this?

"Friend? , when will you stop being so naive, Sunshine. It's everyone for themselves now. We can't trust anyone," he said softly but firmly. "I'm just trying to protect you, protect us." His gaze softened, and he brought his hand to my chin, leaning in for a kiss.

I instinctively turned my head, just in time to avoid his lips as he tried to claim me as his own. It was a move that I'd seen before - a way for him to assert his dominance, to send a message to others. To Neteyam in particular.

But I refused to be a pawn in his games.

"We should catch up with the others," I said, my voice firm but calm. "I don't have time for this."

And with that, I turned on my heels and walked away, leaving him behind.

For as long as I could remember, I had always given into K'amran - his touch, his attention. But I had always been clear with him: I didn't want anything serious, and the end of the world wasn't about to change that

"I'm done with fucking walking," Tseni yelled out in frustration, his voice echoing in the stillness around us. I nodded in agreement, feeling a wave of exhaustion wash over me too.

As we trudged along the terrain, my mind wandered to thoughts of rest - of sinking into a soft hammock.

"We need a break," K'amran suggested, his voice calm and steady. "Let's make a fire, catch our breath."

The idea was like a balm to my soul, a welcome respite from the endless walking

"No wait, look. There's bark scattered. We're near the old hometree. We can set up camp there," Neteyam said, a hint of happiness in his voice as he jogged towards the fallen tree.

My face lit up, and I silently thanked Eywa. Setting up camp around the old tree would be perfect.

I stalked forward toward the tree standing in front of it, surveying the damage, feeling a sense of sadness wash over me. I had heard stories about the tree since childhood. Now it lay shattered and broken, its bark scattered everywhere.

As I looked around, I noticed the vines that had grown over the large tree, clinging to its trunk and branches, as if trying to hold it together. The fallen tree had scattered torn hammocks and shredded fabric, remnants of the past and nights spent lounging in the branches. Feathers from pillows were scattered across the ground, a reminder of all the times they had fallen asleep beneath the tree's comforting embrace.

I closed my eyes and let my mind wander, remembering all the memories that I had been told about this tree.

"I would've loved to see it standing," I heard to my left. I turned, seeing Neteyam, his eyes locked onto mine. "Come on," he said, holding his hand out for me to grab.

I interlaced my fingers with his, and we made our way to the base of the trunk, where there was an opening, cave-like.

"How'd you know this was here?" I asked him as we walked into the opening. I had been told stories of the tree, but it had always been up to my imagination as to what it looked like.

"My bow is made from the bark. I've explored here before with my parents. We should be safe here," he reassured me.

The rest of the group trickled in, examining the space.

To my left, I saw the shattered bones of what looked like a Toruk - Last Shadow.

K'amran sauntered over, his arm slung casually around my shoulders, drawing my gaze towards him. "Hey Sully," he said, his voice low. "You sure we'll be safe here?"

Neteyam gave a curt nod and walked away towards a nearby clearing, accompanied by his family. It was evident that he held no fondness for K'amran, as he made a point to distance himself as far away as possible.

As I watched him depart, a sense of unease settled within me. The rift between Neteyam and K'amran was no secret, and I knew that it could potentially cause problems down the line.

But for now, all I could do was focus on the task at hand - settling into our new surroundings, making a life for ourselves in this uncertain world.

"Come on, K'amran. Let's set up," I said, beckoning him to follow me. He nodded in agreement and trailed after me as I walked towards a spot that looked suitable.

Letting out a small sigh, I lowered myself down onto the ground, scanning the area around me. To my left, I spotted a pile of old bedding that was torn and frayed, but still salvageable. Without hesitation, I reached out and grabbed it, holding it up for K'amran to see.

He settled down beside me, watching as I began to mend the bedding with careful, practiced movements.

"Are you okay, my love?" he asked.

"I'm fine, K'amran. Just tired," I replied.

He nodded, agreeing with me. Tseni came over and settled with us, too, creating a circle. We began to chat amongst ourselves about today about what comes next for us.

I leaned against K’amran as I weaved and twined trying my best to fix the bedding. I silently prayed to Eywa hoping that she could do something to help ,heal our land in someway.

“Sorry to interrupt, but we should probably try and hunt.” Neteyam said from behind. I looked at K’amran and Tseni and they both nodded standing to their feet.

Neteyam came over to me bending so that he was eye level. “If you don’t mind Y/n could you keep an eye on tuk?”

I smiled. “I’d be delighted to.”

He smiled back before running off to catch up with the others.

I walked over to Tuk, who was playing with a toy that she had managed to save. "Hey Tuk Tuk," I said as I sat down next to her. She crawled onto my lap getting comfortable, "Hey Y/n, where did Neteyam and Lo'ak go? Are they coming back?" I comforted her by cradling her and running my hand through her braids, stroking them softly. "They will be fine, Tuk. They went to find some food. Are you feeling hungry?"

She nodded her head, nestling even closer to me. "Is this our home now? I want to go back," she whispered softly. I let out a heavy sigh, realizing how confusing everything must be for her. "I want to go back home too, Tuk, but it isn't safe anymore. Maybe one day it will be," I explained, trying to reassure her. "Yeah, maybe it will be," she replied in a low voice.

I looked down at her and smiled. "How about we make a flower crown with the flowers you picked?" I suggested, hoping to take her mind off the worries. Her face lit up with a smile, and we started to weave a beautiful crown together, filled with vibrant colors and sweet fragrances. As we worked, the worries of the world faded away, and we were lost in the moment, enjoying each other's company.

Tuk held up her flower crown, and I couldn't help but admire her handiwork. "Wow, Tuk, that's so good," I said, smiling at her proudly. She placed the crown on her head, beaming with joy.

"Maybe I could use some help with mine," I said, handing her my own crown to work on. As she delicately worked her little fingers, I couldn't help but feel grateful for the simple joy we were experiencing together.

Suddenly, Tuk's innocent question caught me off guard, and I stopped what I was doing. "Are you my new mom, Y/n? Teyams my new dad," she asked, looking up at me with big, curious eyes. I swallowed hard before answering, not knowing what to say. "Why do you think that, Tuk? Neytiri will always be your mother," I said gently, trying to reassure her.

The frown on Tuk's face grew deeper, and she looked up at me with a heavy heart. "Mom and dad got sick, turned into one of those monsters," she said, her voice trembling with sadness. My heart ached as I heard her words, realizing that she had to witness the loss of her parents in such a tragic way. But, her words also confirmed my suspicions that the rest of her family was gone.

I could feel my eyes welling up with tears, threatening to spill over at any moment, and I knew that I had to be strong for Tuk. I quickly pulled her into a tight hug, holding her close to me. "I'm so sorry, Tuk. I can't imagine how hard that must have been for you," I said, my voice choking up with emotion. "But I want you to know that I'll always be here for you and so will Neteyam and Lo’ak. You're not alone," I reassured her, hoping that my words would bring her some comfort.

A few minutes later, the boys came back in with their catch, beaming with pride. They had managed to forage quite a bit of food - fruits and meat, including banana fruits, lionberries, and hexapedes. My heart swelled with gratitude, knowing that we wouldn’t go to sleep hungry.

We started a fire, and gathered around it, feasting on the food that we had gathered. As we ate, I could tell that everyone was feeling more at ease. The anxiety and fear that had filled us the whole day seemed to have dissipated. There was a sense of calmness in the air, and I felt grateful to be surrounded by such a resilient group of people.

Before I knew it, everyone had gone off to their self-appointed spaces, drifting off to sleep.

As I lay down, shivering with cold, I snuggled up next to K'amran, seeking warmth and comfort. I closed my eyes, hoping to drift off into a peaceful slumber, but my mind was haunted by nightmares.

In my dreams, I relived the horrors of the day - the raging fires, the bodies that lay lifeless, the blood that had soaked into the ground. I saw my mother, lying lifeless, being devoured by what were once healthy Na'vi - perhaps even friends of hers.

The screams of the dying echoed in my ears, and I could feel my heart racing with fear.

I woke up suddenly, drenched in cold sweat, my heart pounding. I tried to stifle my sobs, not wanting to disturb anyone else who might be sleeping nearby.

With trembling hands, I made my way out of the tree, my vision blurred from the tears that streamed down my face. I stumbled through the darkness, feeling lost and alone.

Finally, I found a log to sit on, and I allowed myself to fully release my emotions. I cried silently, the weight of the world pressing down on me.

But then, I heard rustling nearby, and my heart dropped. I had left my weapons behind and had no way to defend myself. I stood up, readying myself for a fight, but to my relief, it was only Neteyam.

He looked at me with concern, his eyes filled with empathy.

My heart was still racing as I sat back down, trying to catch my breath. When Neteyam joined me and apologized for startling me, I couldn't help but feel a small sense of relief.

But when he placed his hand on top of mine and gave me a sad smile, I felt a pang of frustration. I didn't want anyone to see me like this - vulnerable and weak.

"I'm fine, Neteyam," I said harshly, trying to push him away. "I just needed some time alone."

But he wasn't deterred. "I'm not leaving you here," he said firmly. "Not when you're clearly upset."

I looked at him, feeling a mix of gratitude and annoyance. I appreciated his concern, but I also didn't want to burden anyone else with my problems.

"Fine," I said, relenting. "But don't try to make me feel better or anything. I just need some time to be sad."

He nodded, understanding. We sat there in silence for a while, my hand still resting in his. I spoke softly to him. "Tuk told me about your parents. I'm so sorry you had to see that."

He looked at me with sadness in his eyes and nodded. "Me too," he replied quietly.

Without thinking, I leaned into him, seeking some form of comfort. To my surprise, he hesitantly draped his arm around me, offering me a sense of warmth and security.

As we sat there, wrapped in each other's arms, I couldn't help but feel a sense of peace wash over me. Despite the chaos and uncertainty of our world, I knew that in this moment, we had each other.

I closed my eyes, feeling the weight of the world lift off of my shoulders, if only for a moment. And with his hand holding mine, I knew that we would get through this together - one day at a time.

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