#a devil you do fic

[sekiromi]

A Devil You Do, ch. 1

Raphael tells himself that it is only because of your importance that he tolerates your insolence, placates your tantrums, grants you courtesies never before bestowed on a mere mortal. He tells himself his interest is purely professional, his desire to be close merely an expression of wanting to protect his investment.

But then, why do you remind him so much of someone who once felt like home? Why does your soul echo with the remnants of something heavenly, and why does it entice him more than any contract ever could?

He learned not to hope anymore, but for you he might make an exception.

pairing(s): Raphael x Tav/Reader, Astarion x Tav/Reader

themes: reincarnation, soul bond, past lives, lost memories, pining, slow burn

cw/tw: canon-typical violence, gore

word count: 1k

[read this fic in all its glory on ao3!]

Chapter One: A Hundred Lifetimes from Now

The tragedy of the divine retribution of an original sin.

Fire rained down in whistling streaks, scorching the plane and causing it to shudder.

Raphael was many things; eternal, infernal, unforgiving. Hellfire simmered in his veins, behind his eyes, beneath his skin. Cruel and calculating, wicked and sinful, a creature of an irredeemable nature. Scorned son of Mephistopheles, a young lion lying in wait to pounce on his father, tear his throat and devour his flesh to take his place.

Concerned only with control and domination, loving no being other than himself.

Despite the heat of the fight, Cania remained cold and impervious, desolate and dark.

It had been that way for a long time, almost as long as Raphael could recall. His long life stretched out behind him unwaveringly endless, shadowed by greed and lust for power.

A flicker of a dying light, the last gasping breath of something divine erupted into the blackness.

The beginning grew hazy sometime during the second millennia, but there was one thing, or one person, rather, that stubbornly clung to the very fringes of his memory, slipping into his subconscious for safekeeping somewhere around 1400 DR.

Their body lay broken, crumpled, cold. Chest stuttering, choking on the blood rising in their delicate throat, and Raphael knew terror for the first time.

It still haunted his sleep, festered in a dark corner in the back of his mind, waiting for an opportunity to remind him of all he had won and then lost in his quest for everything.

“No…” Bloodied feathers and shattered bones, he tried to hold them together, put them back into one piece as if it could save them. “Hold on, my dear.” This fear on his face, it was a new emotion to them, one that they would remember a hundred lifetimes from now if only in the deepest reaches of unconsciousness.

They made an awful sound, thick, congealed blood pooling in their mouth as they tried to speak.

“G-Go, Raphael…it’s a trap.” Skin was already turning cold, fingertips icy as they weakly brought them to his cheek. “Mephisto…he—”

“Hells with him, I’ll kill him for this. I swear.” Rage burned unrestrained behind fiery eyes they had grown to love, despite every sense telling them to do otherwise. A forbidden attraction, a dance between the infernal and the divine, a collision between the Heavens and the Hells. They had both been damned from the start. They knew this. It had not stopped them.

“You won’t. Please…go, live. We will meet again.” His rage subsided to sorrow, feeling their once immortal life drain from them faster than sand through an hourglass, faster than the Styx through Avernus. His eyes grasped theirs, searching, pleading, bargaining, but both knew it was too late. Stripped of their invulnerability by the very Gods that had gifted it to them, Death would make a move soon. There was one thing left to say, a final deal, their last promise. Gently, they guided his face closer to their own, voice diminishing as a numbness climbed into their very soul.

“In the next life.”

Raphael wept for the first and last time.

—-

Whatever souls are made of, some are awfully persistent.

When theirs had departed for a more distant realm, it was some decades before it graced the material plane again.

They kept true to their promise; Raphael did meet them in their next life, albeit in another form, another face. It did not matter to either, their essence was still there, still the same. In that second life, they had managed to hold on to their memories of the one before, remembered the centuries they had spent together. The first, which they had spent the better half trying desperately to kill one another. The second, when they started to realise why they never could succeed. And the third, where they paid the price for his arrogance and ambition, slaughtered by his own father to teach his unruly son a cruel lesson.

Whatever you earn, I will steal. Whatever you have, I can take. What is yours, is also mine.

When their mortal life ran its course, they found him again in the next. And the next, and the next. He loved them in every single one, however they appeared to him, wherever they had come from. He cherished them entirely, stood beside them as they grew old, mourned their deaths that felt like they were coming faster and faster as the years stretched on, and waited for them to knock on his door once again.

Until they started to stop remembering, until it took him searching for them to elicit any memories at all. Until only echoes of the past remained.

Every reincarnation remembered less than the last.

Sometimes, he would miss reincarnations entirely. In these lifetimes, he would wonder what had become of them, whether they taken another lover, whether any visions of him and their past entanglements haunted them in the void of the night like they did him. During these lapses, the near misses, Raphael would find himself beginning to grow hazy on the details himself. An amalgamation of lives, a collection of personalities that were so similar but also just slightly distinct from one another, made it difficult to hold on to what was original. What he was looking for.

Eventually, it had been nearly a thousand years.

A thousand years of solitude, a thousand years to forget.

Raphael’s heart hardened once again. He became the devil he knew, the creature he was born to be. Cruelness returned, contracts were formed, and souls were traded year after year.

But he did not come across theirs again. He was not sure if he would even recognise it anymore.

By the mid-1400s, any lasting hope of finding them diminished entirely. Wherever in this existence they wandered, they would simply pass as hollow ships in the night, each unaware of the other.

Raphael accepted this, and got on with his work.

[chapter 2]

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x reader #raphael x tav #bg3 raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #ao3 #ao3 fanfic #ao3 writer #baldur’s gate #a devil you do fic #bear with while i format the other chapters #raphael fixation still going hard #this feels like marketing for my ao3 profile #sekiromi #a devil you do

[starry-bi-sky]

Part uh, four? of "Clone Danny"

...taking a risk and @ing @minnesota-fats since they seemed pretty hyped about this au. So i figured they'd want to know when the next part came out.

So where did we leave off? Oh yes... Danny taking the stairs two at a time to book it away from Bruce Wayne before he realized that he and Danny shared the same face.

So safe to say after Danny calls Tucker and they both panic over Bruce's appearance, and he finds himself slinging on his black hoodie and stuffing his pockets with his mask and his jawbreaker gloves before scaling down his second-story window to book it over to Tucker's place.

(you never know when there might be a ghost attack)

It's of no surprise to him when Sam is already there when he arrives at Tucker's, and they all migrate to Tucker's room to come up with a plan of attack. Was Danny gonna tell Bruce Wayne that he was a clone? hell no! He decided to let the man live in ignorant bliss and he is sticking to that decision no matter what anyone says.

Besides, his parents can open that pandora's box, considering they created it.

So their plan of attack? Literally just "avoid Bruce Wayne like the plague until he leaves" which is... a bit difficult right now.

"you could stay at our place until he leaves?" Tucker says

"And what if he stays for a month?" Danny asks, overthinking as he's become prone to do. Ghosts are unpredictable after all. "I cant have a month-long sleepover at your place."

"You could wear a mask?" Sam suggests

and Danny makes a face, "What kid wears a face mask in their own house?"

"You could feign an illness."

...And so on and so forth. They discuss ideas for nearly an hour until Sam leaves and Danny needs to head out as well before his parents discover that he's gone. (he cant exactly tell them he snuck out his window)

(He crawls back through his window only to get the daylights scared out of him by Jazz, sitting on his bed and wanting to talk to him about Bruce Wayne being, apparently, in their living room. Danny kicks her out instead because he already talked about it with Sam and Tucker and doesn't want to talk about it again for tonight)

Skip to later that night when he gets woken up by his ghost sense triggering. He wakes up with a chill and mist breathing out of his mouth, tasting like what freshly fallen snow smells like and ozone. It makes his teeth chatter.

Danny doesn't bother checking the time, and grabs his mask from under his pillow and his knucklebuster gloves. he all but sleeps in his hoodie and padding so all he does left is his boots and vest and thermos.

(He grabs his bat on the way out, and keeps his mask in his pocket until he steps outside)

when he sneaks into the kitchen, halfway through pulling his hair into a ponytail, light draws his eyes and there, up at who-knows-o'clock, is Bruce Wayne on his laptop. In their living room. He looks up at the same time as Danny.

Danny makes direct eye contact with him. Again. But there's no door to slam in his face....and behind Bruce Wayne, standing ominously at the window outside, is fucking Skulker. of course it is.

"...Mister Wayne." He says after a considerable silence where he's not sure if he's staring at Skulker or at Bruce. Skulker just stands. Menacingly. Like he crawled straight out of a horror movie.

Danny's not sure if Wayne's seen him or not.

(Bruce has, indeed, seen him in the reflection of his laptop. And considered investigating the problem just before Danny appeared.)

"...Mister Fenton." Wayne says moments after, sounding pretty calm and uncurious about what he's doing up. "What are you doing up?"

…Nevermind.

"Go…ing on a midnight stroll?" Danny says, he's a terrible liar but people never seem to assume he's off kicking ghost butt.

"With a bat?"

(Note: this is the only time Danny curses the fact that the Fenton Creepstick is painted with glow-in-the-dark-ectoplasm-infused paint. It's saved his butt numerous times in both finding it and smashing it into ghosts' faces. But now its just a hindrance.)

"...We have a ghost problem." Danny says, feeling like he came straight out of a sitcom. "What are you doing up?" Skulker looks like he's getting impatient behind the anti-ghost glass. Danny promptly ignores him.

"Just doing some Wayne Industries work." Bruce says.

And Danny nods thoughtfully. "Cool. Cool... Bye." And he turns and books it out the door.

He just barely has enough time to make it to the street and put on his mask before Skulker damn near takes his head off with his usual proclamation of skinning him. Danny, pointedly, sarcastically signs back his retort until he can get further away from the house.

\\\\\

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 4.5 (Dani interlude) Part 5 Part 6 Part 7 Part 7.5 (Dan Interlude) Part 8

#danny phantom au #dp x dc crossover #dp x dc #dc x dp crossover #dpxdc #danny phantom #dp crossover #danny fenton is a clone #danny fenton is not the ghost king #eventually all of my aus literally just become mini-fics because i spend too much time on one scene before i can move on from it #danny running into bruce late at night was the funniest thing to me #'what are you doing up?' same vibe as 'girl what are YOU doing at the devils sacrament? 👀' #im sorry damian you've become unintentionally irrelevant for now #he's staying in a magiclly procured guest room #he comes down after danny leaves to pester his father about fenton being up and leaving

[graciereadshannigram]

hey fam, welcome to the March roundup of the best hannigram fics i've read this past month! i read close to 60 fics total, and these were the cream of the crop.

as a reminder: the ingredients for a five star rating typically (but not always!!) include some combination of a.) believable characterizations of both Hannibal and Will, b.) compelling plot and/or character arcs, and c.) high quality smut.

that being said, my judgment of the aforementioned ingredients is powered almost exclusively by vibes and as such, is incredibly subjective.

and if you have any recs of your own for me, PLEASE SHARE.

(Inaugural roundup can be found here)

anyway, in no particular order, let's go!

~

Title: Bones of My Bones (& Flesh of My Flesh) by everyday_forever Word Count: 15,759 Summary: When Will & Hannibal reunite in Italy at last, Will doesn't fear becoming Hannibal. He knows he already is Hannibal. However, Will feels as if he's a derivative of Hannibal, made in Hannibal's image, from Hannibal's own raw material. He doesn't feel like he's Hannibal's natural equal. Will thinks the only way he can forgive Hannibal is by claiming a piece of Hannibal in return, and choosing to make it a part of himself. He has to eat him. And Hannibal is all to happy to let him.

As far as I'm concerned, this IS canon. Truly some of the best canon-compliant characterizations of them that I've read. This is absolutely what would have happened if Will hadn't tried to kill Hannibal after leaving the Uffizi Gallery. It was perfect. And so them. And obviously, mutual cannibalism. *chefs kiss*

Title: Do you feel the hunger, does it howl inside? by merrythoughts and ReallyMissCoffee Word Count: 261,929 Summary: It's been weeks since the Fall. Since Will had leaned against him, the wild scent of blood thick and cloying on the air, and had taken them from the top of the cliffs. And for every second of every day since, Hannibal has been calmly dealing with the fallout of his decision that night: Life over death. Will had intended them to die, had allowed himself a moment of weakness, of desperation. Perhaps the last act of an exhausted soul. Yet Hannibal had denied him.

I am being dead serious when I say that this fic changed my brain chemistry and managed to do something that several years of therapy had not. I wanted this to go on forever (there IS a sequel!) and did my very best to savor it instead of plowing through the entire thing in a single day. Check the author notes if you're unfamiliar with these two writers–the format took me a couple chapters to get used to, but clearly it wasn't a big deal for me.

Title: Sensational by bigfootghostdick Word Count: 39,607 Summary: Franklyn’s obsession with Hannibal Lecter truly knows no bounds. His obsession only grows worse after being fired as Dr.Lecter’s patient. Feeling slighted by Hannibal's rejection, Franklyn follows him home one evening only to stumble upon something that he never expected to see. Who’s that dark-haired man locking lips with Hannibal right outside his front door? Overcome with jealousy, Franklyn decides to seek revenge on his tenth psychiatrist. How? By selling the photos he took of them to Freddie Lounds.

Listen. I love a good jealous!Franklyn, especially when Hanni and Will firmly put him in his place. Sue me.

Title: The Stress-Sex Connection by shotgun_sinner Word Count: 48,090 Summary: When Will gets out of the BSHCI, he resumes therapy with Hannibal Lecter. His stress levels are through the roof, and Hannibal makes an offer that Will doesn't turn down. Hannibal assumes he's going to take Will to bed and make love to a fragile man, shy and delicate. Will enjoys taking Hannibal to bed, and proving him wrong. OR the story where Hannibal is shocked to find out that Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets.

I was sold on the last line of the summary, "Will is a profiler in the streets, but a demon in the sheets" because it actually got a good cackle out of me, and then who would have guessed! Essentially porn with feelings, but I loved.

Title: hold me, kiss me, rip out my tongue by multifandom_fanfic_writer Word Count: 18,005 Summary: Will notices things. He notices a lot of things, can’t turn it off. Some of these things are about Doctor Hannibal Lecter. He watches Hannibal watching him eat. He watches the touch on his elbow lingering, possessive. He watches Hannibal's eyes darken when Will pulls his hair and fucks his throat hard.

Okay, so I'm realizing that a lot of my five star fics this month were pretty smutty, but I make no apologies. That being said, I did find the characterizations of both Will and Hannibal to be very compelling, and it had the added bonus of Will getting to rub it in Alana's face that Hannibal chose him not her.

Title: Ligare by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 8,280 Summary: Will's never gone down on a man before and is feeling nervous about it. His solution: tie Hannibal up first. Hannibal has no complaints.

Initially shied away from this one because Will essentially drugs Hannibal to knock him out and fuck him for the first time, but I PROMISE Hannibal knew exactly what Will was doing and allowed it. However, if that isn't your thing, this won't be for you.

THAT BEING SAID, my honest reaction after this was, "fuck fuck fuck, dom!Will might be my new favorite." Bonus points for it being the first in a series, and the rest is equally good!

Title: Oboedire, Implorare, Vovere by InfiniteCrisis Word Count: 18,715 Summary: At the end of Ligare, Hannibal said Will should "test" his willingness to submit to him. Will takes him up on that, and the results are more than either of them expected.

As I said, the rest of the series was SO GOOD. This was basically off the charts hot.

Title: To the Devil His Due (His Due is You) by everyday_forever Word Count: 26,3319 Summary: Will Graham is in the Baltimore State Hospital for the Criminally Insane, courtesy of one Hannibal Lecter. And Will wants payback. He threatens Hannibal with a reckoning. And then Will has a terrible and wonderful idea- he opts to get back at Hannibal and make him jealous by pursuing a sexual relationship with Dr. Frederick Chilton. Feeling emboldened, Chilton sends the audio recordings of him and Will together to Hannibal to boast of the new development in Will's 'therapy.' Hannibal knows at once Will is the mastermind behind it all. Hannibal is most displeased with his manipulative albeit cunning boy. Chaos ensues. Will continues to manipulate both Chilton and Hannibal in order to make Hannibal jealous. Will has entered into a dance with the Devil after poking Hannibal's beast and Hannibal is eager to teach Will a lesson and remind him who he belongs to...

HEAR ME OUT. Prior to this fic, I had never considered Will/Chilton. Ever. Let alone reading a fic where most of the on paper smut is ChilWill. And yet here we are. Hannibal was just so present through it all, given that Will was only screwing Chilton to get at Hannibal (although, I liked that there was some genuine affection between Chilton and Will, it wasn't completely callous), and it just all combined to be an excellent fic. Sue me.

Title: Trope: Fake Date (Hannigram AU) by TigerPrawn Word Count: 4,207 Summary: Will's possible promotion is relying on his superiors thinking better of him. One way to do that is to take his omega to the upcoming cocktail party. Only problem is, he doesn't have one, having to rely on one sent by an agency. He wasn't quite expecting Doctor Hannibal Lecter.

Fluffy first meeting AU, nothing more nothing less. I just love seeing them happy!! (sometimes, lmao)

~

And that's a wrap on this month! See ya next time!!!

#hannigram #hannigram fanfics #hannigram recs #hannigram fic recs #murder husbands #hannibal #hannibal lecter #will graham #hannibal nbc #mads mikkelsen #hugh dancy #hannibal tv show #gracie reads hannigram #sensational fic #the stress-sex connection fic #hold me kiss me rip out my tongue fic #ligare fic #oboedire implorare vovere fic #to the devil his due fic #bone of my bones and flesh of my flesh fic #do you feel the hunger does it howl inside fic

[evercelle]

bloom in hunger, wither in delight 

happy halloween!! these draws are a collab with a friend who wrote a very tasty monster romance saiou in the spirit of the season. you can read their work here!

#danganronpa v3 #ouma kokichi #saihara shuichi #saiouma #ever makes art #it's a chainsaw man AU yahooo #saihara can have a cute guy who is also a creature as a boyfriend. as a treat #get you a devil boyfriend who gazes adoringly at you from every one of his forty-three pairs of eyes #style consistency? i dont know her. but i do know this fic gave me massive brainworms. i drew like five things this week for it #body horror #but like low key

[inkperch]

Random headcanon:

Okay, so, I'm firmly on team 'Clara and Odette were adopted in hell' because like... It's a show about found family. Healthy relationship with an adopted family unit being the reason the main cast eventually win seems on brand, and a lot less convuluted than the shananigans it would've taken for both her human biological daughters to end up in hell and managing to find her. (plus I have a shitton of Carmilla hcs that don't have much room for her to be a mum when she was alive, but that ain't the point here)

I was rewatching the scene just before Whatever it takes, and I noticed that Odettes horns seem to be a headband, and obviously Out For Love made it pretty clear that Carmillas are just how she styles her hair. Meanwhile Clara's (as far as I can tell) seem real.

Odette and Carmilla both started wearing horns to make Clara feel better about her real, actual ones.

#Which like also ties into the suggested thing that the sinners forms are influenced by their earthly issues #See: Alastor getting the Acteon treatment. #I haven't figured out exactly why the horns would be a sore point in the first place yet tho #Maybe she was religious when she was alive? They're p.typical devil horns could be Catholic guilt #hazbin hotel #clara carmine #odette carmine #carmilla carmine #headcanons #No this isn't suspiciously timed Clara thoughts after saying I might do a fic about Vaggie being adopted by Carmilla what do you mean

[djappleblush]

"This fic is not abandoned," "Next chapter coming right up!" "Apologies for the cliffhanger; the wait will be worth it,"

advertised the fanfic author whose work was written in the 1500s.

#do you know the kind of pain I live in everyday #knowing the amazing fic I've been reading was never finished #left to rot in the pages of my browser #leaving me bereft and unsatisfied and unhappy to my bones #oh wait fvck sorry #the author was actually me lmao #fanfic #writer problems #cang lan jue #love between fairy and devil #dramione #zutara #haruno sakura #naruto

[comehellorhighwatertheywillwrite]

found this on twitter

#oh my god #op would write but their fic is cursed what can you do #op has stopped writing for the sake of us all #come hell or high water they will write #death tw #the devil works hard but fic writers work harder #fanfiction #archive of our own #ao3 notes #fanfic #submission #writing #ao3 #fanfiction.net

[raayllum]

He has nightmares, afterwards.

Callum has always been a night owl, staying up too late in his office, and he'd been better at actually going to sleep on purpose once Rayla had come back, uncertainly settling in Ezran's old room across the way, but...

He wakes her up one night crying and sticks to the cot in the high mage study after that, neck damp from chilled sweat as he stares at where the mirror used to sit. She doesn't need this, and he knows if he tells her about the dreams, he'll have to tell her why they're happening, and how much she'll blame herself right when she was starting to get better, and—

Half the nightmares are about being possessed again, the snakes from Finnegrin's office ensnaring his wrists and hissing in his ears. Biting his neck with sharp pointy fangs and injecting poison in his blood. Turning him to nothing more than Aaravos' puppet all over again, but by his own hand.

You knew the risk you were taking, Aaravos' voice mocks, cold and deep, his upper lip curling in a sneer. The irony isn't lost on either of them. By setting yourself free.

The worst of those dreams is a carousel of his loved ones — Soren, Ezran, Rayla — strangled, bloody, him helpless to stop it, to stop any of it, the primal stone like prison smashed at his feet, the glassy shards piercing his eyes. He's played right into Aaravos' hands and lost everything, and—

The other half — the worst better half is when Aaravos doesn't need to possess him to get what he wants. There's the same fear, the violence, the same pool of blood collecting at his knees, the same result — Aaravos, out — and yet...

If you want her to live, little mage, you'll do as I tell you.

When he wakes up from those dreams, it's still with a cold sweat, but with a steadier heart. And he hates it — hates how it reminds him of all the parts of himself he doesn't want, the parts of himself that he doesn't like, that scare him. How could he possibly be that selfish? And yet, he knows... he knows—

The tides are true as the ocean is deep.

The ocean arcanum thrums alongside the beating of his heart. He wakes and looks towards the window Rayla had climbed through, haloed in light, and him unaware of the dark creature he'd found in the mirror. He swallows hard.

He knows which nightmares he'd choose to have come true, his fingers folding over his knees.

I would do anything for you.

He knows exactly what he'd choose, because at least he'd still have her.

And the worst part of it all is that he knows, somehow, in his bones, that Aaravos knows it too. Has known it for much longer than Callum has, anyway.

It's almost what scares him the most.

"Your bedhead's getting worse," Rayla says cheerily at breakfast, combing her fingers through it, a butter knife clasped in her other hand.

That's the best response I could think of to your stupid request. I'm not going to kill you!

Almost.

#tdp callum #devil and the lovers #rayllum #i need you to kill me #if there is longing on the mirror of my heart #tdp #ficlet #fic #my fic #post season five #realized none of the projects i have going except 'electric sheep' (that will need to be tweaked anyway) #for post s5 have had callum pov so hard to fix that #poor boy #arc 2 #s5 #is the implication clear that he fears her death even more. is it clear #snake boi callum #i would do anything for you

[kalofi]

zl fic idea

hii everyone i wrote something yesterday about an au idea i had for zolu and. i thought i'd share it here since its a bit too messy and disjointed in places to post on like. ao3 or something.

4.7k words, warning for temporary major character death but do not worry all will be fixed in due time. i'll put the rest under the cut

ok i have an idea for an au thats like kind of reincarnation but like reality displacement but like. okay just listen.

so we start at laughtale. its a couple years into the future from where we are in canon the strawhats are achieving their dreams luffy is about to find the one piece theres a big battle happening between them and the blackbeard pirates and whoever the fuck else is there idc. the rest of the strawhats are fighting the bb crew while luffy and zoro head off to find the one piece and also end up fighting black beard himself. luffy and zoro atp r like basically a thing but they never talk about it cuz theyre luffy and zoro and they kind of just exist with each other but like. theyre basically in love and everyone knows it. anyway they go off together luffy has the one piece almost in his grasp blackbeard attacks they fight its a big battle blood is shed bones are broken uumm in my mind luffy and zoro are like teaming up against bb bc his devil fruit is lowk broken and op and like ok theres gear5 too but i didnt rly consider that so lets just assume bb’s devil fruit can negate gear5 somehow or luffy exhausts it before bb is fully defeated. 

finally theyre able to knock bb down and hes out and theyre both tired and worn but they DID IT and the one piece is luffys and theyre facing each other grinning ear to ear and zoros saying “you ready, king of the pirates?” and luffy laughs and goes “not just yet zoro, i still gotta-“ and then theres a spear piercing right through his chest. and in the next moment its gone. 

theres a gaping hole through his captain and theres blood, theres so much blood and luffy’s still smiling like he hasnt realized it yet, like it hasnt even registered. zoros ears are ringing and he doesnt know what to make of whats hes seeing because its just not real, it CANT be. 

he looks over luffy’s shoulder and blackbeard is on the ground with his hand outstretched , black energy coiling back into his form and he’s laughing and laughing with bloodstained teeth. hes fucking laughing. one moment zoro is still standing parallel to luffy and the next hes in front of blackbeard and the mans head is rolling through the dirt and gravel, wado dripping crimson, a terrible gap toothed grin still stretching the man’s cheeks. 

zoro is breathing heavy, hes trembling and hes almost mesmerized by the blood pooling around a lacerated neck— then he’s remembering luffy and turning around and calling his name and he can see right through him theres a HOLE right through him and he chokes and stumbles and rushes to his side right as luffy starts to crumple to the floor . catches him and lowers him gently and doesnt know what to say. 

hes still shaking but cant move his mouth and everything is muffled, the sounds from the battle outside are distant and they dont matter but what does he do. what does he do. 

he snaps out of it when luffy gently calls his name. a strong “zoro,” like hes not fazed at all. like there isnt blood soaking into zoros clothes. 

his brain kickstarts and he’s speaking. saying things like “youre ok you’ll be ok” and “choppers right outside i’ll just call him and he’ll fix you right up” and “you always bounce back, right captain?” and hes thinking “dont die please dont fucking die. not now, not when we’re this close please dont fucking die” and hes silently praying to all the gods he doesnt believe in but luffy calls his name again and his mouth clicks shut. luffys saying it’ll be fine, that he had fun. that hes proud to have made it this far with all of them. and those sound a lot like parting words so zoro’s shaking his head no but luffy is still smiling. hes saying that hes glad he had zoro, that he made him happy. hes saying to tell everyone he’s glad they met, that hes glad they all had each other, that he knows theyll be just fine . 

zoro wants to say that luffy should tell that to them himself, when hes wrapped up and recovering and alive but his mouth is glued shut again and he feels that interrupting luffy now would be cursing him to death, like his words are the only thing keeping him tethered here, he just needs to get him to keep talking to stay awake. 

he tries to smile but it comes out ugly and wrong and he feels his lip wobble so he drops it. he settles on rubbing his thumb on luffys shoulder. something to keep him here. 

so he rubs and luffy talks little things until he cant anymore. until his eyes grow dull and his skin loses its warmth and still zoro rubs and he rubs.

—

thats how law finds them. zoro hunched over a body that should never be as still as it is. and its really no surprise hes there, hes been gunning for the one piece since the time he could captain a ship (or a submarine) but it all feels so wrong. 

zoro either doesnt notice him or doesnt care, but either way the man doesnt acknowledge law until he’s right behind him. its not like law can say anything to announce himself either, not after seeing the state of the body that zoros currently holding. the body that used to be luffy’s. hes still processing it all when the other man(the one whos alive) finally speaks. 

zoro asks if hes got a devil fruit. less of a question and more of a statement, but he should know anyway since theyve spent considerable time together and hes literally seen him use it. law cant unstick his jaw so he hums in affirmation. “and you can switch stuffs’ places?” another hum. “what about time.” 

that makes law pause. “what?” his voice comes out stronger than he feels. 

“what about time? can you switch things in time?” by this point law has awakened his devil fruit or some shit dont sweat the logistics but hes never tried anything of that sort so he kind of stumbles “im not- maybe? ive never attempted-“ zoro interrupts “send me back” 

“what?” 

“send me back so i can fix this. you can do that, right.” it clicks. law would pity zoro if he didnt know any better, instead he just feels mounting despair and resignation. 

he may not be crew, but he knew luffy too, he was allied with the man for fucks sake, and this just feels- wrong. he sighs, a tired, heavy thing. 

“what about your crew?” its useless. zoros as stubborn as his captain, with arguably a handful more screws loose. “it wont matter. they’ll never know because i’ll make sure this doesnt happen.” he still hasnt turned around. law doesnt know what expression hes making and hes sure he never wants to find out. 

hes ready to deny it, cut his losses and head for the one piece himself (hes not heartless, but if he stands here any longer and has to look at. well. he think he might never be able to move again) but then he really thinks about it. could he? would it even be possible? surely this isnt the way things were supposed to go, surely this isnt right. luffys never been one who was supposed to die just like that, like this, law knows that much. he thinks hes going to regret this, but he counts it as one last thank you for everything luffy did for him. 

youre gonna owe me big time strawhat-ya. if i even remember this, that is. 

he puffs a breath “i can try. i cant- promise anything but. i think we both know this,” he makes a vague, weak gesture, “isnt right.” 

zoro doesnt say anything, law didnt expect him to. he just bows his head slightly and law takes that as the acknowledgment it is. 

he brings his hand up, “dont do anything stupid, zoro-ya. or, at least, make it stupid enough to bring him back.” 

he positions his fingers in way so familiar, but the weight of it now is nearly unbearable.

room.

shambles

—

zoro’s world shatters, differently than before, and then theres nothing.

—

he wakes up in bed, bleary eyed and a pounding headache assaulting his senses. his alarm clock is going off which only adds to the drumbeat against his eyes. he grumbles and whacks around aimlessly to shut it off. the silence lasts a moment before his eyes fly open and he jolts up, sheets pooling around his waist. luffy. where was he? where was zoro? did the crew find him and take him back to the ship? did law fail? but this didnt look like chopper’s office.

he looks around to find hes in a room hes never seen before in his life, yet he instinctively knows is his. it all feels so wrong, like he doesnt belong in his own skin. he scratches lightly at his arm. he needs to go to work. 

work?

what the fuck is happening. 

its like his mind is at war with itself, one truth trying to dominate over the other. he trained at sensei’s dojo. he aged out of foster care. he was a swordsman, he was the first mate of the strawhat pirates. he didnt go to college, hes working construction. he made a promise, and kuina died. kuina…died. huh. his captain, his luffy, someone he knew so intimately and who knew him in turn. hes never met someone with that name his entire life. he needs to go to work, he needs to find his crew. 

he doesn’t understand what the fuck is happening. 

without his permission his legs stand him right up and he moves confusedly, surely, to the bathroom he didnt know he had. his reflection stares back at him in the mirror and its him, of course it is, he doesnt know why he expected someone else, but hes also…different. he has both function of his eyes, first of all. a scar in the same place as before but its light and healed over and doesnt seem to have blinded him like it once did. his hair is green, sure, but black roots peek out from underneath the familiar shade. hes grown stubble, he should shave. he needs to go to work. 

hes so confused, but his body moves like its been doing this its whole life. as far as zoro knows, it has. 

he continues getting ready, mind still at odds, and makes himself a cup of coffee (in his own kitchen. his own kitchen? the state of it leaves less to be desired. sanji would surely skin him alive) before tucking into his shoes, grabbing his wallet and keys and heading out the door. he seems to live in a single room apartment, and a crummy one at that. his legs move him faster, he has to go to work, he cant be late again (again?).

his car is parked outside the building, he has no fucking clue what it is but he unlocks it all the same and settles in. he feels like he shouldnt be operating this sort of machinery. franky would know better than him how it must work. he starts it up and backs out. trusting his gut to get him where he needs to be. he should be more concerned, he should be frantic and inconsolable, his captain was dead in his arms and now hes? what? going to lay some bricks or some shit? but he finds that part of him dulled in favor of following whatever mundanity this body is pushing him towards. 

uumm whatever whatever he arrives at work eventually i dont know how construction jobs work are there offices or something. idc thats not the point. johnny and yosaku are there and zoro is surprised to see them since, as far as he knows, the last time they were with each other was at arlong park which was years ago for him. but the two greet him like this is a daily occurence, like theyve been working together for years. and zoro thinks, knows, they must have. but this is good, this is great fucking news actually because until now theres been no confirmation if zoro was here alone (wherever “here” is) but now his proof is right in front of him because if johnny and yosaku are here, and they exist the same as from before, then that must mean everyone else is here too right? he clings onto this hope with both hands trembling. 

nami, usopp, the cook and chopper and robin and franky, brook, jinbe and fuck. fuck, luffy. theyve got to be here somewhere, zoro just has to find them. hes not sure if they remember things like he does but hes got to try because they are his as much as he has always been theirs and they should all exist together as it has always been. 

so then yeah he finishes his shift because its what hes ‘supposed’ to do but he doesnt go home. he drives around aimlessly before pulling into a random lot and pulling out his phone (theres no snail attached to it. weird.) he doesnt even know where to begin. hes not usually the one coming up with plans, he just goes where theres blood need to be shed. but no one seems to be in any danger here except for maybe himself, and its not like he has his swords anyway- shit. fuck did he still have wado? he must have right? he knows there was a kuina that existed here too, he knows because he remembers. and she, well she wasnt around anymore so he must have wado. he must. with shaking fingers he pushes that aside for now, though barely. he needs to find luffy, but he wouldnt even know where to start. luffy could probably find the rest of their crew by simply wandering around and happening upon them, thats how he did it before. but zoro has no idea where he’d be, he doesnt even know where he is. nami or robin would be a good bet to at least form a plan, but he wouldnt know how to find them either. 

is there even a coco village here? would robin still be part of baroque works? he needs someone who has a defined location that he could google or something (what the hell is google?). usopp would be at syrup village right? shit. is there even a drum island? these are all too broad, he needs something specific. specific…..a place with an identifiable name, somewhere smaller that would be easier to stake out…

a lightbulb goes off. 

fucking shit he thinks. of course. of fucking course it would come down to the cook. 

he types in “baratie” to his maps and a location pops up, just 27 minutes from where he is now. he hasnt eaten yet either, so he figures thats killing two birds with one stone. he taps the address, backs out of the lot and drives. 

(if it takes him nearly an hour to get there thats nobodys business but his own)

he pulls up to the building about a quarter after 7. it seems packed enough already, but if memory serves him right then that was just par for the course for baratie. he parks, gets out and locks his car, then shoves his hands in his pocket and resigns himself to another oncoming migraine hes sure to get upon interacting with the man hes certain is waiting somewhere inside. 

the tables are full, the host tells him, he slips a 20 from his wallet and suddenly (of course) theyre more than willing to serve him. 

he gets settled in a far and somewhat isolated booth and a waiter comes up to him, but he cuts the man off as hes introducing himself and says “you got a blonde working here? stupid ass side part with a weird eyebrow? goes by sanji” the waiter looks shocked and put off by his rudeness but quickly collects himself and says “we might. depends on whos asking” zoro snorts “just tell him hes got someone who wants to talk to him,” he cringes at this next part, tries to smile but knows it comes off as a sneer. hes not sure if he still has conquerors haki wherever he happens to be now, but he tries to channel that energy the same way he would if he were in battle and says “tell him im a fan.” the waiters eyes widen, in fear or surprise zoros not sure (most likely a mix of both) before he nods and scurries across the floor, weaving in between patrons and coworkers alike until he disappears behind the double doors to the kitchen. 

zoro sits with his arms crossed and skims through the menu out of boredom and impatience. its a couple minutes before he sees a familiar head of blonde hair emerge from across the way. a smile climbs onto his face despite himself. sure, the guy annoyed him to hell and back and their…friendship (if you could really call it that) was a tumultuous one, but it was good to see someone familiar nonetheless. he schools his expression before the blonde can spot him. a few moments pass before hes standing right in front of zoro, his stupid suit primped and pressed as always, and a cautious look on his face. 

“you asked for me?” his tone is the one he only reserves for men who he deems not worth his time. zoro grits his teeth but says “yeah, theres something ive gotta discuss with you.” 

hes never been one for tact, forever blunt unlike his swords. 

sanji quirks a brow “i dont plan on talking about anything with anyone unless theyre a paying customer” zoro feels his eyebrow twitch but grabs his menu nonetheless and points to a random item without looking “i’ll have this then, and whatever booze you got.” sanji leans in to see what hes pointing to before his one visible eye widens and a grin slowly overtakes his previously unaffected face. 

he speaks condescendingly. “wonderful choice sir, coming right up.” before zoro can get another word in he grabs the menu out of his hand, spins on his heel, and marches back to the kitchen. 

zoro clenches his fists and does his best not to grind his teeth into a fine dust. no matter where they are or what displacement in time the fucking curly brow never fails to be absolutely insufferable. at least this way though, zoro knows its him for real. 

its another 20 minutes before the shit cook reemerges from the back with a platter and a mug in his hand. he steps up to zoros table and places the plate and cup down in front of him with a smug look. zoro has no idea what the fuck hes looking at on his plate. he doesnt have time to question it before sanji plops down in the booth seat across from him, disregarding all previous faux-professionale and asking “so what do you want” zoro tears his eyes away from his plate and looks into sanji’s, trying to convey as much emotion, as much urgency as he possibly can. 

“luffy needs us. and we have to find him” whatever the cook was expecting him to say, it definitely wasnt that. the other man regards him more warily now, looking him up and down with a tense frown before replying “i dont know what the hell youre talking about. and i dont appreciate being mocked or having my time wasted” he goes to stand up but zoro grabs his wrist, yanking him back down unceremoniously. 

he blinks before rounding back on zoro, flaring his nostrils in a way zoro knows means hes about to get himself in deep shit “oi, what the fuck do you think youre-“ he doesnt let him finish “im not mocking you. this isnt some stupid prank or whatever youre thinking. and despite how much i would enjoy punching your teeth in right now im not looking for a fight either.” 

the cook still looks affronted but seems to actually be listening. zoro continues “look, i dont know what the fuck is going on. i was at laughtale with you and the others, with luffy, and then i woke up and now im here and i dont know how but this is all wrong. its all wrong but i need to find luffy and fuck, i cant do it alone. i need your help to find him. find everyone.” the blondes eye is wide, but he blinks and its gone. he looks more tired than zoro has ever seen him 

“im not paid enough for this shit. i dont know why i even-“ he looks like hes getting ready to leave again but zoro is desperate at this point so he blurts out whatever he thinks will convince the other man hes not bullshitting.

“we met you here, at the baratie. me and nami and usopp and luffy. luffy busted through one of your walls so your old man punished him by making him wash dishes. i dont, i dont know what luffy said to you, or how he convinced you to join us, but he changed your life like he did mine. we sailed together, and we had each others backs no matter how much we got on each others nerves. you were our cook. i was our swordsman. luffy was our captain and youd do anything to help him, i know you would, same as me. youre a pervert and an asshole and a damn annoyance, but youre strong. i could still kick your ass though” if the cook’s eyebrow could go any higher hes sure itd be clear off his forehead by now. 

“and you- your dream. you wanted to find the all blue.” he stalls there, engine sputtering. zoro doesnt know what else to say, so he snaps his mouth shut. 

the blonde is still gaping at him like a fish, but he mouths the phrase “all blue” like hes been searching for it his whole life, like he always knew but just never had the words. 

he blinks. 

then he blinks again, rapidly. there are tears pooling in his eyes. his mouth flaps for a moment before he seems to finally be able to push out words. 

“you- zoro?” he sounds small. he sounds hopeful. zoro grins. 

“yeah, yeah its me.” sanji stares at him a moment, then looks around, as if hes seeing everything with clear eyes for the very first time. zoro figures he might as well be. 

“holy shit. holy shit.” 

zoro laughs, a rough thing. theres a ball in his throat that he cant seem to dislodge. “nice to have you back, curly brow” sanji’s gaze snaps back to him before he scowls and tries wiping away the tears that are now streaking down his cheeks. its useless though, it seems they cant stop. zoro laughs again at the sorry state of the asshole in front of him, this time more full and genuine. he feels so relieved he doesnt know what to do with himself. 

“yeah yeah, whatever dick head.” sanji grumbles. zoro quiets down, glances away, lets him have his moment. “fuck, mosshead, im still on the clock and you unload all this on me? how the hell am i supposed to finish the rest of my shift?” his words are sharp but he doesnt sound angry at all. in fact, when zoro turns back to look, hes smiling. 

“you remember now though, dont you?” he has to be sure. 

“what does it look like, dumbass? think im tearin’ up cuz of pollen or some shit?” the cook rolls his eye. theyre both silent for a moment, trapped in their own heads, before he speaks up again. “so, what now?” zoro doesnt even have to think before he answers “we find everyone else, obviously.” “well no shit, but how?” zoro glances to the side. “i was hoping youd figure that out” sanji stares before bursting out laughing. zoro scowls and hunches into his shoulders. 

“of course!” sanji cackles “of course your dumbass wouldnt know what to do! you probably just typed in the most recognizable place you could remember and hoped one of us would be there!” zoro doesn’t answer, because yes thats what he fucking did, but it worked didnt it? he doesnt see whats so funny. 

“fuck you.” 

he wants nothing more than to bash that smarmy mouth in, but the familiar egging settles something in his soul. sanji gasps a few breaths before calming down, now wiping tears from his eyes for a completely different reason. 

“alright alright, well lets figure this out then, yeah? we figure out how we got here then we can figure out how to get back right? simple enough” 

zoro nods, “law was-“ he stops. remembers dull eyes and clammy skin and wrong wrong wrong. he shakes his head, “no, no we cant” sanji looks at him confused. 

“we cant go back,” zoro presses, “not until i fix things. i promised i would” the other man seems to pick up on his panic and his mood dampens, becomes more serious. “promised what?” 

zoros never been one to sugarcoat, but now he wishes he could find a way to soften the blow hes about to deal. he inhales, pushes the breath out. says, “luffy died, sanji.” the fact the hes actually using the other mans name seems to fly right over his head in favor of the first part. “what?” zoro huffs, is he really gonna make him say it again? “luffy di-“ sanji interrupts, angry now, fists clenched and whitened from the pressure “i heard what you said. but what do you mean.” 

he doesnt want to have to tell sanji what happened, doesnt want to talk about it at all, wants to slice it up into small enough pieces that it very well may have never existed.

he told law the others wouldn't have to know, that he would make sure of it, but he's realizing now just how unrealistic that is. as much faith as zoro places in his own abilities, he's aware he's only one man.

and, he figures, if there's anyone i can trust enough to share a burden heavy as this with, might as well be the one who's strength i'd count on just as much as my own.

sanji cant help if he doesnt know what went down once they got separated at laughtale, so zoro sets his shoulders, clenches his fists, prepares himself like hes riding into a battle he knows he has no chance of winning—hes the first mate for fucks sake—and resigns himself to filling the other man in on every horrible detail

by the end, the cook looks much the same as zoro feels, pale-faced and shaky. he runs a trembling hand through his hair and clenches his eye shut. “fuck mosshead, thats…” he doesnt bother finishing, and zoro stays silent—already knowing just how much of a shitty situation it is that theyve found themselves in.

—

(btw the reason sanji was so smug about what zoro randomly chose on the menu is bc its one of their most expensive dishes. even upon regaining his memories he still makes zoro pay it cuz hes an asshole like that. business is business 😁)

uuummm i dont feel like detailing the rest basically my idea is that they work together to try and track down all the members as well as law, since hes also a part of this. i dont know how or when or in what order but i do know finding luffy would come last. so yes its zolu but for a majority of it more in spirit than anything. maybe i can throw in some luffy pov of him living with ace and sabo . he knows something is off but cant place his finger on what. he knows something is missing but hes got his brothers with him so what else could he possibly need? etc etc. you get the idea

#devil fruits don't work like this but don't sweat the logistics. just read with your heart not your head #it starts off rough cause im kind of just rambling about my ideas then the more i go the more it just turns into a fic #let me know your thoughts in the comments or my inbox or whatever i love discussing stuff hehe!! #as you all know im an artist first and foremost but sometimes my ideas get a bit too big for my current drawing skills so i write them down #so heres that #one piece #zolu #theres no guarantee i'll ever like. srsly continue this but i rly rly like it as a concept im invested LOL #and i have a few ideas on how the rest of the crew would be found that ive discussed w friends #so perhaps if i find motivation and can outline. an actual plot progression and clean up this first part... #well who knows... XD #also im not a zs truther in fact my insta followers r well aware of my. certain feeling on the ship #HOWEEVVEERRR i do think zoro and sanji have such an interesting unique and important dynamic/relationship #that i enjoy studying outside of a romantic lens #anyway ive spoken enough . pls enjoy! or dont thats fine as well

[eff-plays]

Tfw you had sex with someone despite not really wanting to because that's been your MO for a long while but this time you didn't have to do it but did it anyway and it's not really their fault that you're a freak and tbh they definitely weren't the worst but now you can't do your usual thing where they die/you steal their stuff and leave, and in fact you have to keep travelling with them and interacting with them and you're not sure what to make of it or where to go from here and tbh it's a little sad and maybe if you were anyone else it would've been nice and not weird but as it stands this is definitely gonna do some things to both your brains

#friend said: 'side eyeing each other like 'i saw you at the devil's sacrament'' #'even though the devil's sacrament in this case was them having sex with each other' #SO TRUE!!! #they are SO NORMAL I PROMMY #bg3 #bg3 fanart #bg3 tav #astarion x tav #astarion #my art #oc: hiraeth #worsties to lovers #anyway what do u think of my take on astarion with his hair loose #i was gonna draw it wet because of [fic stuff] but decided this was too good to ruin

[sekiromi]

A Devil You Do, ch. 2

pairing(s): Raphael x Tav/Reader, Astarion x Tav/Reader themes: reincarnation, soul bond, past lives, lost memories, pining, slow burn cw/tw: canon-typical violence, gore word count: 3.3k

previous chapters: [1] [read this fic in all its glory on ao3!]

Chapter Two: Infernal Delights

You shouldn't have wished to live in more interesting times.

The afternoon was mild, sun softly kissing warm cheeks and breeze tousling loose hair. It felt almost peaceful, normal, if you ignored the dull ache behind your eye socket where the tadpole was wriggling around, burrowing deeper, pushing against your optic nerve. You spared it less than a thought, trying to ignore its grating presence, as you pushed forward towards the crumbled bridge that would take you one step closer to the person who was supposed to be able to cure you of your condition.

Before you were able to get across, though, something interrupted. You felt the static in the air first, an almost imperceptible change of pressure nearby, then heard the crackle of dying embers. A scent of something sweet, sour, and musky lingered on the air. Astarion’s nose wrinkled at the smell.

“My, my, what manner of place is this?” Caught a little off guard, you turned with only a small jump to face the interloper. “A path to redemption, or a road to damnation? Hard to say, for your journey is just beginning.” He had a smooth voice, it weaved its way through your defences and set your heart at ease embarrassingly quickly, soothing the instant trepidation. Cinnamon hair tucked behind rounded ears framed a handsome face, lips tilted into a small not-quite smirk, not-quite smile. “What would suit the occasion? Hmm…the words to a lullaby, perhaps. The mouse smiled brightly: it outfoxed the cat! Then down came the claw, and that, love, was that.” Perplexed, and a little amused, you tilted your head as you continued to appraise him, evaluate him. He paid your analytical gaze no mind, and carried on. “They do know how to write them in Cormyr, don’t they? Well met. I am Raphael. Very much at your service.”

Nothing good would come of this interaction, you could tell. Still, you spared him the benefit of the doubt and decided to entertain him. After all, there was something strange about him that piqued your curiosity more that you would have expected, had you dulling your usually sharp tongue to deliver a more placative response.

“Am I talking to the mouse, or the cat?” You queried, unsure if you would like the answer.

“Neither. The fox, rather, hiding in a word, a silent observer – about to break the silence.” Your left eyebrow raised of its own volition. “Of course, what I have to say merits some privacy, as well as some more…let’s call it, refinement.” He looked around, gesturing to the landscape you had become only too familiar with over the past few days, and nodded to himself. “Yes, this place is decidedly too middle-of-nowhere for my tastes. Come.”

Before you could respond or object, you and your companions were engulfed in a cloud of sparks and smoke. You felt your body shift through the planes uncomfortably, evoking a feeling of endless falling, and tried to suppress the rising panic in your throat, a vague awareness of what sort of being you had the misfortune of encountering that day might be.

When the mist dissipated and you were solidly on your own two feet again, you quickly examined your surroundings to try to figure out where you had been summoned. The latent heat of Avernus clung to the air, even inside the cool room, you would recognise the smell of the first layer of the Hells sooner than your own face in the mirror, though you could not say why. Apart from when the Nautiloid came careening through on its collision course, to your knowledge you had not been here before. Other than that, you perceived you were in a dining hall dripping in crimson, a large table filled with a feast fit for a king, flames roaring in a huge fireplace that you thought was too large for the room it resided in. And there, in front of it, Raphael.

“There. Middle-of-somewhere.” His smile was entirely too cocky, you decided. You shared a look with Lae’zel, conveying a silent understanding to be ready to fight should the need arise.

“Can you be more specific than ‘somewhere’?” Voice guarded, you turned your gaze back to Raphael, who was only too happy to oblige. He gestured around himself with a flourish.

“The House of Hope. Where the tired come to rest, and the famished come to feed – lavishly. Go on! Partake, enjoy your supper, after all…it might just be your last.” His gaze was unsettling, perceptive, dissecting. It made you feel entirely too exposed, so you looked away as you folded your arms in mild impatience. After all, it was not like you had all the time in the world for these distracting dramatics.

“Are these theatrics leading somewhere?”

He chuckled, a melodious sort of sound that reverberated in your ears and imprinted itself on your mind in a way that concerned you.

“Are you not entertained? Well, far be it from me to disappoint.” That grin again, all-knowing and too confident. There was a sudden flash of fire, you could feel the heat against your cheeks from where you stood, and Raphael assumed his true form before you, just as you had suspected: a cambion. Still, you stepped back a little, both to avoid the flames and also to get a better sense of what you might be up against should this descend into violence. After a few seconds, you realised that turn of events would have only one outcome: your untimely and almost certainly gruesome deaths. You were suddenly glad for your decision to be pragmatic about this encounter.

The devil was larger in this form, more intimidating, more impressive, dare you say. Skin turned clay red; scarred wings stretched out wide as he shrugged into this form as if trying on a new outfit. Rough, jagged horns emerged from his scalp, and nails grew into long, sharp claws. It was not until your eyes had raked over every inch of him, and he had started talking again, that you realised your mouth was hanging open slightly.

“What’s better than a devil you don’t know? A devil you do.” Suddenly you became soberingly aware of the fragility of your little mortal life. Something about this cambion seemed different to the few others you had encountered, the ones you had read about. There was a nobility about him, a grace and well-practiced manner. All devil’s had silver tongues, but his was polished to perfection. This was a spawn of an Archdevil, and a very powerful one at that, you were sure of it. “Am I a friend? Potentially. An adversary? Conceivably. But a saviour? That’s for certain.”

Regarding him for a few moments, you thought of how to respond. Starting a fight was out of the question, and he seemed amicable, for now. Best to play nice, you supposed.

“What makes you think I need saving?” An answer he had been expecting, it seemed, judging by the smile revealing his pointed teeth.

“Come now. Why play hard to get when you’re in deep over your tadpoled head? One skull, two tenants, and no solution in sight. I could fix it all, like that.” He snapped his fingers, conjuring a brief lick of flame, and watched you eagerly, hungrily, like a predator stalking its prey. He had lied before, you decided. He was no fox, nor was he a simple house cat. He was more like a tiger, masquerading as something less deadly, appealing to your humanity with a delicately crafted mortal guise that pleased both the eye and the heart. With it now gone, you could see him as he truly was. Dangerous.

Your eyes drifted to the rather self-indulgent portrait of the devil above the fireplace, the depiction stirring a recollection of something you could not quite grasp. You shook your head, ignored the gnawing doubt creeping in to share the space with the worm.

“You’re mad if you think I’ll make a deal with a devil.” You retorted almost automatically, hoping it would not offend your host (or kidnapper, whichever way you were looking at it). Luckily it did not, in fact it delighted Raphael. He so loved it when his clients put up a fight, it made their inevitable failure all the more delicious for him, gave him more despair to feast on. And he had a feeling yours would be particularly divine.

“And what is madness but a denial of reality? Still, I’ve a feeling you’ll change your mind. Before it’s changed for you…” Allusion to the fate that almost certainly awaited you made you shudder involuntarily. “Try to cure yourself. Shop around, beg, borrow, and steal. Exhaust every possibility until none are left. And when hope has been whittled down to the very marrow of despair – that’s when you’ll come knocking on my door. Hope. Hahaha! Such a tease.” You did not linger on the feeling left by the way he said the last few words. He did not miss the slight dilation of your pupils, and tucked that away as a potential exploit for another day.

“And if I do want to take this deal – how will I find you?” You asked with a slight reluctance. Whilst you had no genuine intention of entertaining his offer, you supposed it was best to keep your options open.

“I’ll be around. Watching you squirm like a tadpole through a nice juicy brain.” That summoned a pretty visceral image you would rather have done without. “All those pretty little symptoms – sundering skin, dissolving guts – they haven’t manifested yet, have they? One might say you’re a paragon of luck. I’ll be there, when it runs out.” A promise, although an unwelcome one. Before you could think of a witty retort, you were enshrouded in mist and smoke once again and returned to the land the devil had plucked you from. Your head swirled, although this time not just because of the tadpole, and as you swayed unsteadily on your feet you wondered: why the Hells did this have to happen to you?

You talked at length with your companions about the interaction, most strongly advising against considering entering into any deal with a creature of an infernal persuasion, despite the growing direness of your situations. You had to agree with them, although you found Wyll’s insistence on the subject matter interesting considering his own predicament. Still, you tried not to judge too much, and just nodded along in easy concurrence. Gale, however, offered a slightly more balanced perspective, which surprised you.

“Look, all I’m saying is there might be more to this devil than meets the eye. It’s rather convenient that he offers to take our tadpoles, evidently powerful things, as unpleasant as they are.” He winced towards the end, his parasite moving uncomfortably in his brain. You could feel yours wriggling about too, and willed it to settle down while you ate your meal in front of the campfire.

“Surely he’s just looking for an easy target, right? I read once that devils can smell desperation, he must’ve sensed us coming a mile off…” You gazed into the flames, the heat pressing against your face reminding you of Avernus, a place you had visited for a combined total of no more than five minutes. That was probably enough for one lifetime, though, you decided.

“Perhaps, perhaps not, time will tell. For now, I suggest we keep him on side, just in case we can make use of him in the future as well.” You shrugged and supposed that made sense, though playing a devil would be no easy feat. They were masters of persuasion, manipulation, entrapment. Even the lowest cambion could sweet talk someone into sin, and the cambion you had the joy of meeting had been no ordinary one. Granted, he was still just a cambion, but better to stay on the safe side and not risk underestimating him. He had been all smooth talking and warm welcomes with you today, but there was every likelihood that could change.

After you finished your dinner and the fire was dwindling into embers, you bid goodnight to Gale and Astarion, the only two remaining members of your party awake, and headed for your bedroll. As you settled in, drawing the covers up to your chin and grimacing at the smell of the wild clinging to your clothes and sheets (should have really bathed before bed…) you mulled over your planned itinerary for tomorrow. The goblin camp had been easy enough to ‘infiltrate’, now you just needed to find this Halsin, rescue him (whatever that entailed), ask him to remove the tadpole, and hopefully your interesting little escapade would come to an end. Then, you could meander back to Baldur’s Gate, return to your quaint city life, and forget any of this ever happened. The smile fell from your lips, aware that there was no hope in Hells things would be that simple. At least, the devil did not seem to think so.

You found your thoughts drifting back to him against your best efforts, recalling the silhouette of his cambion form in all its grandeur displayed in front of the fire, those claw-like wings, jagged horns, and infernal eyes. You could not seem to get his image out of your mind as sleep came to take you quickly, gripping your exhausted bones faster than it ever had before.

And still Raphael’s face did not leave you in peace.

In your dreams you wandered a barren and scorched hellscape, the battlefields of Avernus, ravaged by centuries of war. The heat was suffocating, climbing down your throat, clawing at your eyes, but somehow you were able to tolerate it. In the red of the earth, a more vibrant red polled from scattered bodies: some demons, some devils, tieflings, humans, celestials. Both friend and foe, good and evil. The stench of fresh death gathered all around you, and your face scrunched together in displeasure as you tried to brace against it, stop the bile churning in your stomach. When you opened your eyes you looked down to see your hands dripping with blood as crimson as that leaking from the dead. You felt your heart start to race, panic rising in your gullet. Just what have I done?

A sudden hand on your shoulder sent you into a spiral of dread, and then an oddly comforting acceptance. You turned to see Raphael, his face softer, younger, it seemed, expression impassive if slightly severe.

“Let’s not linger here, my dear.”

Your mouth opened to respond, but before any words could materialise the mirage of the dream fell away, engulfing you in blackness.

In the morning, you awoke with a slight headache, although that seemed to be becoming the norm these days, and a vague sense of a welcome touch, an unexpected comfort. As you pieced together the brief dream, images slowly coming back to you as you laboriously lifted your body from your bedroll and prepared yourself for the day ahead, you realised it felt more like a distant memory.

You tried to shake the feeling off, turning a blind eye to the gnawing sense that you were missing something. There were enough other gnawing sensations roaming your body, namely the one in your head, you could not spare the attention for one more.

By the time the day drew to a close and you were wading through dismembered and eviscerated goblins, all thoughts of the haunting dream were forgotten, replaced entirely with the sights of destruction around you. Splattered with blood, chest heaving with every breath, you let your body slip down the wall you were resting against to come to a squat, barely listening to what Shadowheart was saying as she fussed about you, healing your numerous wounds, chiding you for being so careless in your fight against the goblin leader Dror Ragzlin. It was true, you had been careless and allowed yourself to get hurt a little too much, but truthfully by that point you did not care anymore. You just wanted to get the task over with. She kept talking, trying to engage you, keep you focused. It did not work.

All you knew was that the sun was setting, you were exhausted, and Halsin could not cure you.

The small hope that lived in your heart began to fade, and the world slipped away with it as you fell into a dreamless sleep.

—-

Raphael thumbed through Korilla’s latest report on his new favourite mouse, delighting in all the gory details. Halsin had told you to take out the goblin leaders and the rest would fall into disarray, but it would seem you had taken it upon yourself to slaughter all of them regardless. He had to admit, he was surprised you had it in you. Of course, to most people goblins are detestable little beasts, but they were still people, they still had hopes, dreams, desires…usually grim ones, mind you, but aspirations nonetheless. Yet, you had cut through them all as if reaping wheat, even with the numerous wounds earned from your earlier conflicts. He hoped you would learn to exercise a little more caution in the future, if it were not for the cleric you seemed to be keeping close your injuries may have cost you, and by extension him, dearly. He could not afford your death, not at this point. He still had such big plans for you, after all. As he finished with the report, he started to mull over the details of his next planned visit to you and your travelling companions. He would give you some time to think over your first interaction with him, give you a chance to at least consider what he had to offer, let you fester over his words and his vague promises and leave you just long enough for a sliver of doubt to begin to metastasize within your mind, wondering if you had been too hasty in your refusal, starting to think that you might have missed your chance. Just then, he would reappear, much to your relief, and present himself as your saviour once again.

Only he knew he was anything but.

He could hardly wait.

“It seems like a lot of work for one mere mortal soul,” Korilla mused upon her return, “why not settle for some slightly lower hanging fruit?”

Raphael scoffed and shook his head. It seemed his agent still had a lot to learn in the ways of fiendish contracts and bargains. Although, he supposed there was only so much of the infernal delights she could ever hope to understand.

“My dear Korilla, why bother with the low hanging rots when, with just a touch of patience, I could steal the forbidden fruit from the very top?” He could only imagine how sweet that fruit would taste when finally secured. The dwarf merely looked at him, unconvinced, and he sighed. “You’ll see soon enough why this one is so special. Now, have you any news for me?” He tried not to sound too eager. Korilla pulled out a small notebook she had been using to jot down her observations, scanning them for anything of interest since her last report, and had to suppress a sheepish smile as she divulged the details of the party the tieflings held at your camp in the evening, and what you then got up to in the woods after everyone else had gone to bed.

Raphael’s eyes shone with rapture at the revelation.

“My, my. What a scandalous little mouse.”

Oh, you were going to be an entertaining one, indeed.

[chapter 3]

#bg3 #baldur's gate 3 #baldur's gate #raphael #bg3 raphael #raphael bg3 #raphael x tav #raphael x reader #bg3 raphael x tav #bg3 raphael x reader #ao3 #ao3 writer #ao3 fanfic #a devil you do fic #sekiromi #a devil you do

[ribbononline]

New fic by @silverjirachi out wahoo wahoo! Go support it!!

#my fic commentary remains impeccable <3 (gnawing) #more quick fanfic doobles its more likely then you think >:] #also going through an art style crisis atm dont worry abt it KJHKJSDF #anyways. big fan of spinda that was my fav mon as a bit as a kid. also worried abt spinda considering it was never mentioned in the sequel #please be alive out there buddy #good excuse to draw younger them again :] prequel fics always fun #curious to see where it will go!! also specifically what the end point will be :3c #is it the archie running away in the night plotpoint or. #like courtney has very much alluded to things after that in th already existing sequel fic will we get to see #or will those things be tackled in the last part of the trilogy hmhmm #i like thinking abt fanfics. i like how everyone in the fandom has such different takes on the characters #allows me to take them and put them in scenarios its like free aus for days to play w #<making up so many endings and plotthreads up in my head to every fic i get my grubby hands on #rotating them around like theyre in a microwave #oh back on track i do not remember if the devil and the dead sea ever mentioned eye color of either of them so i just fuckin winged it #perhaps they are inaccurate if so Uhm. Apologies #now we patiently wait for the chapter releases. spinning really hard #TWO fics ive been excited for updating again after a good forever tis a good month

[wyattjohnston]

or run away - jack hughes

series: we don’t have no time to waste

summary: it isn't always easy.

note: i've had this idea for months now and as far as i'm concerned it was going to be canon in this universe regardless of whether or not i wrote the fic.

i implore anyone and everyone to fight for access to safe and legal abortions.

word count: 3,580

warning: very frank mentions of abortions including the decision process, abortion related medical descriptions, emetophobia, references to eating disorders (bulimia), maternal death. please excuse any inaccuracies, i tried my hardest and did a lot of research but cannot promise this is flawless

Daisy heard the front door open and the loud conversation between Jack and Ty cut off suddenly, presumably as they took in how dark the apartment was. She managed to sit up in bed, resting weakly against some pillows and be smiling when he peeked his head into their bedroom.

He didn’t look convinced.

He sat down on the mattress beside her, crossing his legs and leaning forward to press his hand to her forehead—she wasn’t sure he’d be able to tell if she had a temperature but she appreciated the gesture.

“Have you gotten out of bed at all since I left?”

Daisy shrugged, saying, “It’s been less than 12 hours.”

“Yeah, but it’s already been two days and that’s two more days than you should have been in bed.”

“I don’t have any energy,” Daisy sighed, slumping back down into the pillows. “I don’t know what’s wrong with me; I haven’t been this sick in years.”

“I’m gonna call the doctor and try get you an appointment for tomorrow. You should be at least a little better by now.”

Jack helped her move down so that she was back under the covers, moving around enough so that he could tuck the covers up under her chin. He kissed her forehead, ignoring her protests that she didn’t want to get him sick, too. He wasn’t worried about it, though, because she didn’t have any obviously contagious symptoms and hadn’t even when she first started feeling unwell.

There was a conversation about what she’d eaten—crackers, but even they were tough to keep down—and the worry across Jack’s face was worse than she’d seen in years.

She made him go out to get her a glass of water and some more crackers, just so he would be distracted, and also asked him to send Ty in to say hello if only because they were both her boys and she needed the normality of Ty’s Roadie Recap even if they’d just ventured to MSG for the day.

Daisy didn’t hate doctors in a crunchy-mom sort of way, but, as much as she understood why they were necessary and that they were the quickest way to work out what was wrong, she didn’t like them.

Her memories of the hospital visits to see her mom weren’t vivid—a combination of her young age and ability to repress memories meant all hospitals blended together in a haze of sterile white walls and antiseptic and the ending nobody wanted—though it was the aura and the associated memories that did her in.

And it all came rushing back even when she was just heading into a doctor’s surgery.

None of it was very pleasant, especially not when she was already regretting even getting out of bed.

Still, she managed her way through a polite chat with the nurse, explained what was going on and was asked approximately a million questions while her vitals were taken. It was just like every time she showed up for a new prescription for the pill, only the nurse was making a few curious noises that Daisy wasn’t used to.

If only she had the energy to care.

Daisy didn’t hate doctors but she did hate how long they made her wait.

She was nearly falling asleep in the waiting room chair when her name was finally called by her usual doctor—a middle aged man with a terse demeanour who she’d found when she first moved to New Jersey and hadn’t ever left because he prescribed her what she needed without too much hassle. A smile wouldn’t kill him, though.

They went through the same conversation she had with the nurse, that she’d spent the previous two days in bed and a few days before that hardly able to keep food down.

“The nurse said that you didn’t get your period last month so I need to ask: is there any possibility that you could be pregnant, Daisy?”

“No,” Daisy said quickly, then hesitated and added, wide eyed and high pitched, “Well, I mean yes but we’re so careful about protection. Like we don’t have sex if there’s no condoms left and I’m also on the pill like—I can’t be pregnant.”

“To rule it out and for peace of mind, I’d like to do a test. You can take this jar to the bathroom right now and we can know in a few minutes, or I can draw some blood but that might take a couple of days to get a result back.”

“I’ll go pee,” Daisy whispered, picking up the small jar and taking a steadying breath. “It’ll kill me if I have to wait.”

She also wanted to talk to Jack and didn’t want to have to wait for the doctor to draw blood. Her phone was out of her pocket before she’d even left the room, her lip quivering. She kept her head low as she walked to the bathroom and could feel the rattle in her breath when Jack picked up.

“Are you done already?”

“Jack, he thinks I could be pregnant.”

“He always throws that out there as a suggestion, though,” Jack countered easily. “You come and tell me he’s said that after every appointment.”

Daisy wanted to be able to laugh about it, about how he’d asked her if she could be pregnant when she walked in with a poison ivy rash on her arm all because she regularly used the pill to skip her period entirely—and when she didn’t skip it, it didn’t always come.

Daisy put the jar down on the counter in the bathroom, staring at it as she whispered, “This time he’s making me pee in a cup.”

“Oh.”

“Yeah.”

“Okay, well…  we can deal with that,” Jack said, the calmness in his voice so unbearably fake that Daisy let a tear fall. He sounded less fake, more determined, when he added, “You won’t be, anyway.”

Daisy did laugh then, weak and wet, wondering if she could actually just will herself to not be. She whispered, “I hope not,” into the phone and her reflection in the mirror.

“It’s gonna be okay, Daze.”

Daisy looked down at the jar again, sighing.

“I have to pee now,” she said solemnly, smiling a little at Jack’s abrupt laugh. “I’ll see you at home.”

“Call me when you’re done. Either way. I love you.”

Daisy agreed, if only because Jack sounded desperate.

The house was eerily dark and quiet, the boisterousness she usually encountered when she walked through the door missing as if the boys were on a road trip and it was unsettling knowing that they weren’t and should have been back from practice.

Jack was waiting quietly by the front door; Ty was nowhere to be seen.

Daisy wanted to go to bed, she wanted to cry, she wanted to vomit and it looked like Jack might’ve been in the same boat. She couldn’t remember a time he’d been so pale.

He reached out to touch her, his fingers barely brushing over her hips before Daisy was taking three steps back with her arms stiff by her sides.

“Please don’t touch me.”

“Daisy…” Jack said cautiously, his face turning a murky grey.

Daisy sighed, blinking back tears, “It’s not—I worked so hard to get past that and to change how I think but I—Jack, I don’t even want to touch my own stomach right now.”

“It’s not?” He didn’t sound as if he believed her, and she couldn’t fault him for that—not when he’d heard the same thing, that she’d beaten the bulimia, and soon after seen the exact opposite.

“It feels a lot like it, but it’s got nothing to do with what I’ve eaten or—” she inhaled deeply, letting it out slowly. “I really don’t want to be pregnant right now, Jack.”

Jack’s nod was instantaneous and his steps towards her slow. He kept his hands by his own side, letting her know that he wasn’t trying to touch her waist in any way, and Daisy sighed shakily when his forehead touched hers.

“I know,” he whispered, his voice also shaky. “You’ve got school and a plan that doesn’t involve a baby for a few more years.”

Another shaky sigh left her lips as she asked what she’d been dreading to ask the entire drive home, “Do you want to keep it?”

“No? I want you to get to do what you’ve planned and I’m gone a lot so I won’t even be around to help with a baby. And I like our life right now. I’m not ready for a kid.”

Daisy’s vision blurred entirely, and her shaky breathing turned into a full body sob as she collapsed into Jack. He was ready, though, his arms wrapping tightly around her shoulders, a hand cradling her head.

The first thing Daisy did when she woke up the next morning was schedule an appointment online. She didn’t want to wait any longer than she absolutely had to—though that did mean having to schedule around Jack’s games.

He was laying right next to her on the bed as she used her laptop with shaking hands and puffy eyelids. She looked to him before she finalised it, another check that he agreed with the decision being made, and then pushed her laptop onto her cluttered bedside table—not bothered by the things she heard falling to the floor—and buried herself underneath the duvet.

“I’m not going to tell my dad,” she muttered when Jack was buried underneath them with her, the duvet pulled over their heads. “He doesn’t need to know.”

Jack frowned. “Do I tell my folks? Mom’s going to kill me. I’ve got like one big responsibility and it’s to not accidentally get you pregnant and I fucked it up.”

“This is a freak accident,” Daisy assured him, wetness still present in her voice. “If you want to tell them then you should. You can, if you’re asking permission.”

He touched her face—he was being very careful to not accidentally touch her waist or stomach even if he normally would have pulled her closer that way—and kissed her forehead.

“I don’t know. Maybe I’ll tell her after. If I tell anyone else…” Jack trailed off.

Ty was the only person they’d told—a by-product of living with him and explaining to him why he’d been booted out so quickly and why there was a heaviness in the house that had never been there before.

Brie—Dougie’s partner—would find out soon enough because Jack planned on calling her to keep Daisy company while he had to play a game against St. Louis.

Daisy offered, to finish his thought, “It might be too real?”

“It’s already pretty real.”

“Yeah, Jack, it’s really real.”

Jack got home after the game, saying goodbye to Brie who had sat on the couch with Daisy to watch the Devils defeated the Blues, and bundled Daisy towards their bedroom without much fanfare other than Daisy stopping to greet Ty and congratulate him on his goal.

It was the happiest she’d been since she started to feel off-colour, a glimmer of hope and return to normal when she’d launched herself off the couch in glee. She told Ty as much as she hugged him tightly.

Jack was smiling at her when she joined him in their room.

“So,” Daisy said, using her renewed vigour to kneel on the bed and talk as Jack changed out of his suit, “I did some research into Judaism and abortions.”

Jack paused halfway through removing his jacket, getting stuck momentarily, and said slowly, “You didn’t have to.”

Daisy shrugged, trying to play nonchalant so she wouldn’t lose her ability to have the conversation, and continued, “I wanted to make sure I wasn’t condemning you to eternal hell or purgatory or whatever.”

Recovering and seemingly understanding Daisy’s need for the conversation to continue at a relatively fast and causal pace, he told her, while still undressing, “Neither of those really exist in Judaism.”

“Oh, well, it wouldn’t matter anyway because Reform Judaism is really cool about it? They’re really into it being the woman’s choice to decide. And while they don’t really want you to just have abortions for fun—which nobody is doing, obviously, despite what the whack jobs think—it’s not a giant unforgivable sin.”

“That’s… good,” Jack said, thinking through what she had said, and taking in the relief it had brought to her face. He reminded her, gently, “Daisy, you’re not Jewish.”

Daisy laughed, sarcastically, falling onto her back with her legs still tucked underneath her so that she could speak to the ceiling.

“Well, my religion is going to condemn me to hell and label me a murderer; I just thought I’d make sure at least one of us was safe.” She sat up again, making sure they were making eye contact when she said, “And I’ll probably be Jewish one day, right? Don’t want to start off on the wrong foot.”

The softness on Jack’s face was almost like nothing she had ever seen before but it came close to the earnestness in his expression when he’d proposed to her in the Vegas wedding chapel.

“Even if eternal damnation was on the cards for both of us—that doesn’t change anything. Not for me.”

“It doesn’t for me either,” Daisy admitted. “It did make me feel a little bit better, though.”

Jack was skipping practice to take Daisy to her appointment—she’d offered exactly once to have Brie go with her instead and Jack had shut it down.

He’d told Nico that he’d be missing—“I just told him that you had a thing I needed to be there for and he said he hopes you’re okay.”—and Lindy—“He knew what I was talking about. I told him you had an appointment and I had to be there, and he told me he could be discreet if we need any help from him. It was weird. How many guys has he had that conversation with?”

Neither of them cried that day; they were too nervous to do so. They didn’t do much talking, either, but they were never more than an arm’s length from each other from the moment they woke up and that didn’t change until they were at the appointment.

Daisy filled in what felt like truly unholy amounts of paperwork, her shaking hands making her normally perfect handwriting rather illegible. In the seat beside her, Jack was bouncing his me at a million miles a minute and twisting his head around at every noise.

They’d discussed the possibility of Jack being recognised in the conversation about Brie bringing her and, while he acknowledged it as a possibility, he wasn’t going to let it stop him from being there with her.

When she was called into an office, they both sat there and answered questions that Daisy couldn’t remember two seconds after they were asked; Jack answered some when Daisy stalled.

“Do you mind stepping out of the room, Jack?” The nurse asked. “There are some things we need to do that are usually more comfortable without an audience.”

“Uh, yeah. Are you okay with that?” Jack asked, nodding when Daisy nodded up at him. “I think I’m going to call Quinn.”

“That’s a good idea,” Daisy said, feeling a small weight off her shoulders knowing that someone in their family would know.

The nurse explained that they ask partners to leave the room so that they can ask questions that aren’t always well received, or that aren’t always answered truthfully in the presence of a partner. Daisy listened and answered, assuring her repeatedly that Jack hadn’t ever forced her into anything, including the making of the appointment—all she wanted was for Jack to be back and holding her hand.

As they were finally calling Jack back into the room as well as organising the ultrasound technician, Daisy made it clear that she wanted to hear as little from the ultrasound machine as possible. She didn’t want to hear much of what they were saying either.

Neither she nor Jack would see the ultrasound image, or hear much of it, but it was impossible to pretend it wasn’t there.

“Do you—can you tell when, like, conception was?” she asked too loudly for the silence they had been in. “We always use a condom and I’m on the pill so we have no idea when this could have happened.”

“I would probably put it at—” the tech paused for a moment — “the first week of February.”

Daisy’s brow knitted together, her entire face contorting as she tried to think back to when it could possibly have happened, “I don’t—”

“Vegas,” Jack said, interrupting her. He sounded hollow. “I don’t think we used a condom after the wedding.”

She squeezed his hand, already knowing that he was going to take that as a personal failure, and admitted, “I was really bad at taking the pill on time.”

She still is, truthfully, though she was already working out how to be more consistent in taking it.

Jack squeezed her hand right back.

“Do you need time to think about your options?”

“No,” Daisy said immediately. “I’m here for an abortion. We’ve already decided.”

It was hard letting Jack go when they started to prepare her for the surgery. It was the first time she cried all day, clutching his arm and begging them to let him stay with her. Jack wasn’t faring much better despite the strong face he was trying to put on. His attempts at assuring her that she was going to be fine, that he’d be there when she woke up, did little to actually comfort her.

At least the nurse looking after her was there and ready to take Daisy’s other hand, not quite a perfect replacement for Jack but it was better than nothing.

When Daisy did come to, Jack was right there as promised. He looked… relaxed. She felt relaxed. It was quite the contrast from how she’d felt when they pushed the anaesthetic through the IV.

She listened dutifully as she was given instructions on how to look after herself and was happy to hear that she’d be able to get on a plane to Vancouver the next week as long as everything continued to go as smoothly as the procedure had.

“You okay?” Jack asked cautiously when they were left alone.

“Yeah,” Daisy said, a small laugh bubbling out of her. “Was way more scared about being pregnant and now I’m not—so I actually feel really good. You okay?”

Jack nodded, leaning down to kiss her forehead before he wrapped her up in as good a hug as he could manage.

On their way out, some of the relief was lost.

Despite Jack being a strong and firm presence by her side, Daisy could still see and hear the people antagonising her from across the parking lot. She craned her head to get a proper look, but Jack caught her.

“We’ve just gotta get to the car,” Jack said, firmly holding her hand—partly as a source of comfort, but partly to stop her from rushing to meet the protestors face to face.

Daisy groaned, “But they’re assholes and I want to tell them.”

Jack’s laugh was small—he could picture her doing just that quite clearly. “And I’d let you if you hadn’t just been under anaesthetic.”

“They don’t even know what I did in there,” she huffed, unable to tear her eyes away from them. “Maybe I was getting prenatal vitamins.”

“You know they don’t care.”

With all her might, Daisy shouted, “Because they’re assholes!”

Heading back to Planned Parenthood was something Daisy did when she could, knowing that the protestors outside were only getting worse as legislation was changing around the country—as midterm elections were racing closer.

She sat and waited for people to show up and call for an escort, no matter what they were there for, because nobody deserved to walk past the protestors alone.

Daisy met a young woman at her car, dutifully ignoring the heinous things that were shouted in her direction and smiled kindly as the door opened.

“Just don’t stop walking,” Daisy said. “I like your shirt.”

“You’re a Red Wings fan?” the woman asked after looking down to see what shirt she was wearing that day.

“I grew up one, but now I’m more of a Jersey Girl.”

“I know they’ve been bad but I couldn’t imagine changing teams,” the woman said, Daisy could hear the horror in her voice. It wasn’t the first time she’d heard it, the betrayal in someone’s voice when they found out she’d moved on.

She never took it personally, and it served as a good distraction.

“My fiancé has a vested interest in the team, so I don’t really have a choice. Detroit is still my team in my heart; Seider winning then Calder was the most exciting thing to happen this summer.”

“If anyone else won it I would have fought the NHL.”

“I would have been right there with you,” Daisy agreed. She opened the building's front door and was thankful to drown out the yelling when it closed behind them. She said to the young woman, “And I’ll be right there with you when you leave.”

The decision you make is the right one.

#jack hughes fic #jack hughes imagine #nhl fic #nhl imagine #hockey imagine #hockey fic #homemade fic #we don't have no time to waste fic #title is from slide by the goo goo dolls #it would be ‘put your arms around me’ but I already used that for a different fic #‘do you wanna get married or run away’ is the whole lyric and well they already did the wedding thing #fic: devils

[desertfangs]

Carnal Pleasures [AO3]

Armand/Daniel - Explicit - 2,743 words

Short and sweet. About two years into the chase, Daniel finds himself in a motel, alone and horny and wishing Armand would appear.

This is for Dungeon Anon, who's been such a supportive and amazing presence in this fandom. I don't know if this what you wanted but I hope it doesn't disappoint! 💖💖 And for me because I can't get the chase years out of my head lately.

Excerpt:

He doesn’t know what to make of the kissing. But surely Armand had enjoyed it. He’d threaded his fingers through Daniel’s hair and made a sound… God, that sound. Daniel would never forget it: a primal almost-growl that had set all his nerves on fire. 

Even the memory of it makes him hard and he shifts on the bed, wishing Armand was here now. Wishing he could kiss him again. He wonders what it would have felt like if Armand’s fangs had pierced his throat. He remembers Louis’ fangs in his neck but the memory is hazy, stripped of its sharp detail by time. And anyway, it’s not Louis he wants.

He pictures Armand again, standing in front of him, those soft brown eyes shaded by auburn lashes that match his fiery hair, his red lips. God, they were so soft! And Armand had worked his cool tongue with expert skill. 

Daniel’s erection strains against his pants as he imagines all the ways Armand could use his tongue. 

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#dungeon anon #this one is for you #daniel molloy #armand #armand/daniel #devil's minion #queen of the damned #the devil's minion #it's present tense which is something i've been doing more of idk let me know what you think i guess #daniel/armand #devil's minion era #the chase years #vc fanfic #my fic #vc #vampire chronicles #a/d

[pyonpyonnnn]

im sure someone’s done this already but i couldnt get it outta my head

#this is so fucking dumb #angel devil #chainsaw man #angel devil x reader #angel devil x you #chainsaw man x reader #chainsaw man x you #csm x you #csm x reader #ANOTHER ANGEL FIC UNDERWAY #u guys just love him huh #dw i do too #he's my bby

[imperatorrrrr]

I requested the Nolan Nico fic but I didn’t expect it to hurt that bad. You’re too good! Thank you!

I have another request please! Something in the vain of people around Jack aren’t always truthful with him, he’s absolved of any criticism and Nico considers himself an enabler too, and so Nico takes a tough love approach this time with their loss that’s so fresh, one person isn’t to blame but one person did make two careless mistakes. I love reading fics where Nico is Jack’s comfort zone but he’s also the captain and I think it would be interesting to read from that pov as well where he doesn’t skirt around being honest for once in their relationship and that inevitably makes them closer.

I'm glad you enjoyed my take of your NolanNico request, I hope this one is up to snuff as well! Took a little different approach, tried to experiment a bit here, so hopefully it works!

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Luke really shouldn't be eavesdropping, but this is Nico and Jack's fault for not doing this at Nico's. If they didn't want him to overhear, they shouldn't have made it so easy for him to overhear.

Plus, this is far too juicy for Luke to be a good person and put his headphones in or blast some music or do the courteous thing and leave the apartment altogether.

When Luke made his swift exit to his room, Jack was looking blankly at one of their walls unthinkingly biting his fingernails while Nico was pacing, his face looking even more troubled than his regular resting face.

"We're a team, Jack."

Luke hears Jack hum.

"No, Jack. We are a team," oh, Luke can hear Nico ramping up to something, Luke gets comfortable, maybe he should have made some popcorn.

"There's nineteen of us out on the ice every game. You don't need to," Nico lets out a big breath, and Luke thinks he hears Nico take a seat, "You can't do this thing where you play like you're the only one that can win it for us."

"Nico, we don't---"

"No, we have to talk about this. I need to talk to you about this." Nico's getting a little louder now. Nico doesn't get loud. Nico speaks and everyone else gets quiet. And Luke can almost picture Jack snapping his mouth shut. Can almost picture Jack's eyes going a little wide, but then getting smaller, a little defiance in them, a little fight maybe.

Its getting testy.

"I know I fucked up, Nico," Jack is grinding this out, even the way he says Nico's name is almost spat out, "We don't have to do a debrief of how I singlehandedly cost us the game."

Luke can tell Jack's gotten up now. He's the one staring down at Nico now. He's the one trying to take control of this conversation, trying to end it.

Nico stays seated though, he doesn't rise to Jack's level, "Can you please listen to me? I need you to listen to me right now." And Luke knows the exact face Nico's making. Its determined, but kind. Its soft, but focused.

Luke hears some shuffling and thinks Jack's probably sat back down. He thinks they're probably facing each other on the couch now.

"You've put the league on notice, Jack. We've all put the league on notice. They weren't expecting us last season and they definitely weren't expecting you."

Luke lets out a soft "ooph" because that takes a lot for Nico to say. Nico's always made it a point to say how Jack's been great from the beginning, how they aren't underdogs.

"They know your game, they spend entire video sessions studying you, probably," Luke hears Nico let out a huff, maybe that was meant to be a laugh.

"You have to be smarter."

"I know." Luke could barely hear that, but Jack sounds resigned, deflated.

"Jack, I'm not asking you to be perfect, but you can't be careless. You see the game like none of us can---"

"Don't sell yourself short, Schao," Luke definitely hears a smile there. And Nico lets out another huff and probably rolls his eyes at Jack.

"The way you see the ice, these mistakes...you shouldn't be making these types of mistakes, okay? The only reason you're making them is because you've gotten it into your head that its all on you. It's not. You gotta stop."

Luke's leg is cramping in the position he's sitting in on the floor next to his door, and he takes that as the sign it is and gets up, grabs his laptop and his headphones.

Nico and Jack are going to be out there for awhile still. There's a lot to get out, a lot to go over.

This is their team, after all. Nico and Jack's team.

#Text #Ask #Anonymous #NicoJack #1386 #New Jersey Devils #we're going to pretend that the Luke's bedroom is like right next to the common area and Luke can hear everything okay #for the sake of this fic #Writing #Prompts #this could have gone on for a bit #but I didn't really want it to #and I think at some point Luke would either get bored or wouldn't want to intrude ya know #I hope this gets to what you were asking for Anon #please feel free to ask for something else or a re do if this is widely off base #Miss Americana and the Heartbreak Prince