#and that he understands what it’s like to be on a path of power madness

[seresinhangmanjake]

Overprotective

Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen x Atreides!reader

Summary: Your son is due to be born any day now and Feyd is very protective. He kills anyone who so much as lays a finger on you, but it’s gotten out of control. 

Notes: this was an anon request. same Feyd x reader from The Harkonnen’s Sweet Thing and The Harkonnen’s Claim. *can be read alone*

Warnings: mention of murder and pregnancy. 

Words: 1100

Feyd-Rautha Masterlist

“You’re mad,” Feyd says, his smile dropping at the sight of your frown. Your arms are crossed over your swollen belly as you lean back against the headboard of your bed. He closes the door behind him. “Why are you mad?”

You roll your eyes. He knows exactly why you’re mad. By your count, you’ve been pissed at him twenty-three times in the past month and a half and you don’t care for your widely-known highly-intelligent husband playing naive. “Don’t act like you don’t know. We only ever fight about one thing, Feyd. One.” 

Feyd sighs and steps closer to the mattress, but when you put your hand up, he stops in his tracks. Your throat strains as you swallow your grin. You still get little flutters in your belly when he demonstrates how you have that kind of power over him, but you cannot let him see the satisfaction on your face now. If he sees you smile, he will smile, which means you will have lost because he’ll know he’s won, and when he wins he gets turned on, so then you’ll get turned on, and then you’ll end up fucking. But you cannot be fucking right now. He needs to learn a lesson. His hard dick in his wife’s warm pussy will not achieve any lesson-learning. If anything, it will encourage his bad behavior. 

“You killed another one,” you tell him, and he doesn’t even have the decency to look ashamed; though that’s far from surprising.

Feyd crosses his arms over his broad chest. “He touched you.”

“I tripped.”

“And then he touched you.”

“He caught me.”

“So you agree,” Feyd says with a sharp nod. “I’m glad we are on the same page.”

Your huff descends into a groan as the heels of your palms press against your closed eyelids. “Your wife—your heavily pregnant wife—would’ve fallen on her ass if he hadn’t.”

“He shouldn’t have let you trip in the first place,” Feyd tells you. “He was meant to ensure you have a clear and safe walking path.”

Your lips part, mouth opening and closing and opening again as you search for a response. However, you end up with the same one you always do: “You are unbelievable,” you reply, shaking your head. “Twenty-three servants, Feyd! It has surpassed extremes! You killed one for brushing my hair–”

“Touching—and she was pulling on it too hard.”

“You killed one for helping me dress in the morning when you had already been called away for a meeting.”

“I prefer you naked anyway,” he says, shrugging, a smug grin stretching across his face. “Naked and in this bed.”

You raise a brow. “And the one who helped me sit down so I could watch you in the arena?”

“Ah, that one—” Feyd waves his finger as he clicks his tongue “—that one thought I wouldn’t notice because you were so high up in the stands. I don’t like sneaky people,” he reminds you, though you’re plenty aware of how he handles deception and trickery. “You should have told me you planned to attend and I would’ve helped you well before it started.”

Ignoring his point, you retort, “You cannot keep killing everyone.”

Feyd groans. “My love, you’re in too delicate a state,” he says. “I gathered all of them together not two months ago and explicitly forbade them from laying a finger on you. It is not my fault if they break the rules. And what sort of Baron am I if I do not enforce punishment?”

You hum in dissatisfaction. “You do understand you put me and your child in more danger by not permitting their assistance?”

Immediately, his brow pinches. His head turns to look away from you and when his jaw clenches, you realize the weight of your mistake. A sickening feeling settles in your gut. Your face falls from frustration into total devastation. “Oh God, Feyd…”

“I do not put you in danger,” he says, and it’s so shockingly meek that your heart cracks right down the middle. Not once in almost two years have you heard that tone leave his mouth, and you think maybe his eyes have become glassy, but you’re praying it’s a trick of the low lighting in your bedroom. Feyd has never cried in front of you, if he's ever cried at all, and you hope you didn’t just unfairly yank that vulnerability out of him. 

“I’m so sorry. That isn't what I meant,” you whisper, sinking into your shame. You know it’s such a sensitive topic for him and you spoke without thinking. You reach your hand toward him. “Come here….please.”

Feyd stares at you for a long moment, but then he sighs through his nose and walks over to sit at your side atop the mattress. No tears—your breath shudders in relief. One hand grasps his and your lips brush his knuckles. The other cups his cheek as you guide his forehead to rest on yours. 

“You protect me,” you swear to him. “No one could ever keep me safe the way you do, and I know that's all you want, but our son is coming soon. We will need help. I can’t birth this baby without a doctor and that doctor will have to touch me. Me and our son.”

The heat of Feyd's heavy breath warms your face. You wait for his response but he doesn’t have one, and instead, he shifts to lie down. You adjust your body until you’re flat on the mattress beside him. “Sometimes,” he starts as he rubs his palm over your stomach, “I have dreams about the three of us living elsewhere. Everyone is forced to leave us alone and all we have to care about is each other and our child.”

Feyd kisses your exposed shoulder, and in that moment, you’re reminded of how different he has become. He’s transformed from someone whose sole ambition was to be the Baron—a man driven to control this planet and have the people of Giedi Prime bow to him; a man who sought destruction and pain and power—to a man who secretly craves a bit of peace for his family. Though no one other than yourself sees this side of him, it’s hard to watch him tackle that burden, especially when you know you’re the responsible party. 

“What have I done to you, Feyd-Rautha Harkonnen?” you mutter as you press your lips to his forehead. 

He chuckles lowly and hugs you into his body. “You turned me soft.”

“You kill servants without batting an eye.”

“Fine,” he relents. “As soft as I’m capable of being.”

#feyd rautha x reader #feyd rautha x you #feyd rautha harkonnen #dune fic #austin butler #dune part 2 #feyd rautha #dune

[the-monkey-ruler]

My friend sent me parts of the Iron Fan arc and Wukong calling both princesses a bitch? Is he the only pilgrim to swear like this what is this liberal use :S

Surprisingly there are a lot of curse words to be had for at least Wukong, Bajie, and Wujing. Bajie called the Scporin Demon a bitch at least three times in the arc for her stealing Saznang and poisoning Wukong.

And Wujing even calls the Queen of Women's Kingdom a hussy (at least in the Yu version, isn't not that abrasive in the CN cause there it is just 贼辈无知) But still also calls Scorpin queen a bitch in the Yu translation. A lot of Scorpion Demon hate to be had.

I only see that Wukong calls Jade Face a bitch but that might be that perhaps your friend is using a different translation for that.

Because Bajie calls Iron Fan a bitch but I don't see Wukong insulting her.

Wukong seems to be content calling Iron-Fan sister-in-law but if I missed it then that is on me. Funny enough the only time I could see when Wukong doesn't call her sister-in-law was when they arrested Demon Bull King and he called her Raksasi.

Again I might just be missing it cause I'm skimming the chapter but he def called Jade Face a Bitch.

A bunch of potty mouthes here.

#anon ask #anonymous #anon #jttw #journey to the west #xiyouji #sun wukong #zhu bajie #sha wujing #ask #Wukong is always respectful to Iron Fan and I feel like that shows #he never wanted to fight her and even let her hit him and hurt him to make up for sending Red Boy away #he never wanted to start a fight but he wasn’t going to stop his mission #he always tried to reason with her that maybe Red Boy is better off in heaven instead of on a path to be killed later down the line #and that he understands what it’s like to be on a path of power madness #I bet he sees a lot of himself in Red Boy #but also he sees Iron Fan the same he sees BDK a brother #and breaks his heart to fight them #but apparently fuck Jade Face #he ain’t here for the second woman #he only supports Iron Fan rights #princess iron fan #demon bull king #princes Jade face #Jade face fox

[bhaalble]

I like that Last Unicorn quote as much as the next guy but I do always wind up feeling a little detached from analysis that paints Astarion's disapproval as purely envy. Partly because. No one's doing this for Lae'zel for instance even though she has similar disapproval and similar trauma (all she can remember is a hostile physically and emotionally exploitative environment which expected perfect strength and obedience from her or else she would be punished or killed). But also partly because it feels pretty detached from everything he actually has to say about it.

The thing about Astarion is he loathes weakness. He loathes sentiment and he loathes dependence. You can see this when he actually opens his mouth up about the people he disapproves of saving, but also incredibly loudly when he talks about the other companions, as well as his fellow spawn. If Lae'zel submits to Vlaakith he talks scornfully about how some people just come to love their chains. He's confused and put off if Wyll submits to Mizora to save his father. In every conversation with his fellow spawn (at least when hes not actively manipulating them) he's dismissive and harsh, and clearly he's perfectly willing to sacrifice them for the sake of himself.

There's an obvious origin point of those feelings, of course. Cazador's abuse is designed to actively kill off empathy in his spawn, both towards each other and towards victims. The last time Astarion prioritized someone over his own skin he got locked in a tomb for a year. We can see glimpses of it with the other spawn too, how his siblings are (apparently uncompelled at first) willing to drag Astarion back to their master for their freedom, how Petras' first dream of freedom is getting to drain another person dry. Astarion certainly doesn't seem to feel any real sense of solidarity with them, likely because Cazador understands that them building a community is a threat to his authority the way it was to his own master.

I'd also argue its Astarion projecting his own self-loathing outwards. So much of his quest is about his desperate attempt to escape from who he was. He's been given a chance to slip free of the limitations of being a spawn. He clings to that because of course he would. He also instinctively begins to run over everything in his path, because if there's anything he has learned over the past 200 years its that good things can always be taken away unless you make sure to remove any and all possible threats to that scrap of well-being. He's disdainful of people in need of help because they represent who he fears to go back to being! He calls his siblings "poor fools" while refusing to confront the fact that had it not been for the tadpole he would be in exactly their position, forced to cling to the hope that Cazador is telling the truth for once because escape isn't an option either way. He becomes irritated when Tav slows down to help the unfortunate because they represent roadblocks on his own path to safety.

There's an idea in mental health stolen from airplane safety: that you shouldn't help anyone else until your own mask is secure. What they don't tell you, speaking from personal experience at least, is that PTSD, especially for long term trauma, has a way of making you feel like your own mask will never be secure. And while that's scary, and it sucks, and there should be the utmost patience for it: no one is going to realize that mask is secure for you. Eventually you are going to have to accept the fact that you are breathing just fine. Eventually you are also going to have to accept that people asking something of you isn't them endangering you, even if it can sometimes (often) feel like it. It doesn't make you obligated to help them. But it does mean you have to stop reacting to them like a threat, because not 5 minutes ago that was you.

I think the idea that he's only mad because he's jealous is a gratifying fantasy. He didnt feel safe before, but now through your PC and the power of love he'll feel warm and cozy enough to forgive you for not being there to begin with. But I also think Astarion cannot live in a reality where he's never pushed back on. His instinctive self-protective movements are a coping mechanism, yes, but coping mechanisms developed under survival conditions can also be a way of keeping you frozen in your trauma. Outside of the environment they were necessary for, they can even hinder you from growing in the ways you need to grow to move past what happened to you. Sometimes, you need to stop a baby tiefling from getting crazy murdered by a snake because it turns out. That can happen to anybody not just people who are weak and stupid and deserve to die anyways not like me I'm normal-

#bg3 #baldurs gate 3 #astarion #ive got to stop drafting essays on him #apologies if this damages my cool boy image #cazador #baldurs gate 3 spoilers

[ddarker-dreams]

yan blade is susceptible to manipulation.

making the most of this involves the unenviable task of initiating contact. no one can fault you for your hesitation. gravity itself feels intensified in his vicinity. the lives he's taken, the shadowy madness that recedes when you approach and proliferates in your absence; it screams do not approach. blade himself doesn't do much to dispel your concerns either. he towers over you in height, maintains a stony countenance, and speaks in this sonorous voice that adds to his imposing image. every step you take to close the gap makes you feel impossibly small.

inhospitality aside, it's not so bad once you overcome the initial hurdle. blade regards you with the same curiosity you direct toward him. had it not been for your purple-haired co-kidnapper's intervention, you never would've amassed the courage to come this far. her words spurred you on.

"you've yet to understand the unique position you're in," she began, whilst painting your nails a bloody red. "bladie's nothing but a big ol' softie for you. why whimper and tremble like a wounded pooch when you could make him your attack dog instead?"

this proposition piqued your interest. you're not so foolish as to believe kafka offered this insight out of the goodness of her heart — whatever came of it would surely be for her entertainment — but it still left an impression. considered from this angle, it'd reframe your entire dynamic with blade. his wretched affection is yours. a commodity that, if leveraged properly, could be monopolized.

when standing before him, every iota of his attention orbits around you. harnessing this celestial power takes but a few flirtations. coil your trembling arms around his neck, draw him down toward you, speak his name like it's a blessing or curse. he's enthralled and intensely focused on what might happen next. your future splits into infinite paths instead of congealing into one, unhappy ending.

whether he knows your true intentions or not is inconsequential. weave your lie prettily enough and he'll remain willingly ensnared.

#i had a dream about him last night. so he is on the Mind today #honestly... out of the husband rotation i could handle yan blade the best #yandere blade x reader #yandere x reader #yandere hsr x reader #blade brainrot #concepts

[im-totally-not-an-alien-2]

Rejected soulmate au but I made it worse instead of better

Danny, instead of just leaving, instead snaps and commits a series of murders as Phantom, rampaging across the city. His first victims were his parents who he mauled to death, then Vlad, then his so called "friends". Once he came out of the green rage induced fog he realized what he had done and sobbed somewhere in the woods around Amity.

He knew that the GIW would arrive soon, and well, he's already in this deep and he can't just let a government agency that hell bent on genocide and conquering/expirementing on the entities of an entire dimension do as they please so he takes his hanger out on them as he's always wanted.

Hes so glad Jazz is away for collage. She's safe from them. Safe from him.

Its a wonder Clockwork didn't try to talk to him. He probably knew it wouldn't do any good, and Danny is technically of the living and Clockwork isn't allowed to harm the living or control them, only influence them into taking different paths. Hence why he did the time freeze/rewind fiasco when Danny attacked him at the clock tower when he was 14. He wasn't allowed to actually fight him and honestly at that point Clockwork didn't need to. But now Danny had that time medallion in his chest courtesy of his alternate evil future self and Clockwork couldn't do anything.

Danny was 16 and far too powerful for the master of time to take on.

Danny demolishes the GIW like he was playing Doomed on the easiest setting. It was laughable how quickly they went down and Danny found himself enjoying it.

He always had to tamp down that feeling. That vicious glee he got whenever he took vengeance on someone who wronged him. It had always been a thought in the back of his mind that he may have been inherently evil at heart and that he would turn to the dark side eventually.

He wouldn't be like the fusion of himself and Vlad though. That was just a mildless monster destroying everything in its path. What was even the point of that? For all the darkness in his heart, he couldn't see that as anything other that sheer stupidity. He assumed it was Vlads half. The only thing the creep was ever good at was dragging everyone around him down.

Danny packs up and activates the Fenton houses Baba Yaga Protocal, causing his childhood home to grow legs and literally walk away. He eventually managed to find all of Vlads secret labs and treasure stashes, raiding all of them and stripping them of everything they had to offer.

Then he went to find his soulmates dimension in the comfort and convenience of a newer and crazier version of howls moving castle. He had no plans on harming them per say, but he wanted to know why. Why reject a soulmate you hadn't even met before? A person who either platonically or romantically is your perfect match and can understand you better than anyone.

Danny himself suffered immensely throughout his childhood. His parents mental and emotion manipulation and neglect had left Danny longing for thier praise and attention but also left him feeling hollow and confused. Being the children of Evil mad scientists made it difficult to be friends with anyone. Even if the kids weren't weirded out by them, the parents of those kids would tell them that they weren't allowed to play with him or Jazz in fear for thier safety.

Rumors about the Fenton parents experimenting on thier children eventually reached thier ears. That was when he realized that other parents didn't give them twice daily injections of ectoplasm into thier bloodstream.

Im lazy but heres more:

1. Danny as a kid 9-12 realized that Sam and Tucker were crappy friends. Sam often tried to chase away any other girls that tried to talk to Danny for any reason (she was getting better) and often was controlling or patronizing to him while using her parents wealth to get what she wanted. Whether she realized it or not, she was actually a lot like them.

Tucker, Danny decided, secretly hated him and had straight up admitted before that he only became friends with Danny to steal the cool tech from his parents lab, which Danny had allowed and risked getting hurt by his parents to make his friend happy. Tucker was always jealous of Danny, stating that Tuckers own life was plain and boring while Dannys was like the protagonist of an anime. Tucker was quiet about it, but Danny saw how much the other boy enjoyed seeing him fail.

He tried to hang out with his big sister more, cause she could understand and she loved him, right? He was standing outside her door again with his favorite ball (it had the constellation Pegasus on it!) and raised his hand to knock on her door when he heard her groan loudly.

He knew he wasn't supposed to eavesdrop but he put his ear to the door anyway. Curiosity had always been his greatest weakness. On the other side she was talking on the phone. To who he had no idea cause Jazz didn't have friends, but she was complaining about mom and dad and...him. she told her phone friend that she loved him, but only out of obligation. She was his sister and she had to care about him, even if she didn't want to.

Danny didn't understand. She had just said she loved him so why did his heart hurt so much?

He went back to playing with Sam and Tucker. They were what he had, even if he didn't like them, he could lie to himself and tell himself that he did. Just like with mommy and daddy.

If he keeps telling himself that he loves them than he will. If he keeps telling himself that they love him then they will.

Dannys always been good at lying to himself.

Still, the soulmark on his arm remained. It was a vague promise of a light at the end of the tunnel. A dream that someone would show him what real love was like and they would sweep him off his feet and take him far far away from this place.

So why...

2. Phantom doesn't make a name for himself in this new dimension right away. Yeah he had all this treasure he stole from Vlad but treasure isn't money and he had no idea if money from his dimension would even be valid what with all the protections the us had on thier bills to make it difficult for people to make fakes.

Selling gold bars and the like was easier said than done, especially if you actually wanted a fair price for it, and he'd rather have a hoard stashed away for his later plans to more easily take shape.

3. Phantom was an excellent thief, even without his powers, but hes in too early to be arrogant and this world was filled with super-powered villians and heros alike, all trying to make a name for themselves.

He refused to be anyones stepping stool to something greater. Not anymore.

Danny was as cunning as he was skilled. He disguised himself in seedy bars, talking up whatever heist he had made recently, saying whatever thief had pulled that off must have been the greatest, sometimes he ever went dressed as a swooning girl for the extra oomph.

It usually worked and some meat head would take credit for his crimes. Word would sometimes conveniently make its way to the cops and if Danny was really lucky the poor sucker would actually go down for his crimes.

All to muddy the waters. Its harder to connect all these crimes to him when half of them have convictions and the other half have nothing linking them together <3

4. Danny needed minions but he didn't want to tell them anything. He wasn't in the position to start recruiting younger supervillians into his army yet. That was much later in the plan.

No, he needed a mercenary. One who didn't ask questions.

Mr. Deathstroke came with great recommendations and had a great track record for getting whatever contract he had completed and he had a vendetta of some sort against the Teen Titans and Young Justice.

Yeah, he was a bit fruitloopy but he seemed perfect for the job he had in mind.

Danny would keep Deathstroke at a distance of course. He was a mercenary, a hired gun, not his friend. Some one else could easily hire him to get information about Phantom or worse, hire him to attack or capture Phantom.

No the only thing tall, dark and scary was getting from him was the money owed to him in the contract. Money he now had plenty of.

5. Danny never really considered that he would have to compete with other thieves.

He had made sure to steer clear of places like Gotham and Metropolis because of the heros there who always stopped thieves and revealed their identities. Danny didn't need that, no thank you.

But as he was doing one of his heists, the third one this month and the one he planned on sticking the blame onto another poor sap-freaking Catwoman ran into the room with a sphinx carved of some precious stone and Batman not far behind.

Batman locked eyes with him for only a moment, cowl meeting domino for a split second, and Phantom knew he had been found out. This wasn't Gotham. He had no idea how they had gotten here or when but Danny wasn't naive enough to think the worlds greatest detective wouldn't be on his tail after he saw Phantoms arms drapped in the "priceless artifacts" from the India section.

They very much had a price. His buyer had paid a hefty chunk in advance.

Catwoman, who Danny had silently sworn vengeance against, kicked Batman away from her mid brawl and launching him in the direction Phanton was escaping.

Crud. It was time to fight and he was so not happy about it. Danny did manage to get away with the use of his electric powers. Turns out leaving the lower half of your face exposed is a bad idea, especially if your opponent knows Thunder Punch.

He used an EMP pulse as he ran to fry any cameras and Batmans equipment before heading down the hallway and through a few walls. He turned invisible once he was far enough away and flew off into the night with his prize.

This buyer better not backstabbing him. He's in no mood to play nice tonight.

#rejected soulmate au #but worse <3 #dpxdc #braindead #but not realy #danny phantom #danny fenton #fanfiction prompts #prompts #batman #catwoman #deathstroke #bruce wayne #salena kyle #slade wilson #i will add more to this as time goes on #tim drake #red robin #yum #angst #tw angst

[kingkatsuki]

— calm before the storm

I was thinking about this ever since I saw this panel, and here we are.

Togame fingers us at the back of Shishitoren’s theatre. That’s it—

Pairing: Togame Jou x f!reader.

Warnings: 18+, semi-public sex, fingering, dirty talk. Choji uses one (1) pet name for us but I explain in the notes at the end!! (Don’t be mad at me pls).

Word Count: 1.8k.

You cherished moments like these— the calm before the storm before the Shishitoren men would come flooding into Ori to cause a rowdy scene inside the abandoned theatre. It was peaceful here like this, as you settled in the backrow of seats beside Togame Jou. Your usual, favourite spot to be as your fingers stroked over the wooden armrest. Following the scratchings of a messy heart with both your initials inside that Togame had carved into it years ago.

Togame’s tongue glides across your lips lazily, his warm palm pressed to your chin as he holds your cheeks between his thumb and forefinger. There’s no real sense of urgency to his movements, despite the fact he knows the Ori will be full of Shishitoren gang members at any moment for their afternoon sparring session.

Nothing ever happened early with Shishitoren, so having a quiet moment with Togame like this— seated at the back of the old theatre, felt like bliss. His body curved over yours as he pushed you back into your chair, deepening the kiss as his tongue swiped across your lips. Tasting the saccharine gloss that tacked to your skin with a grin, pulling away to stare down at you with half-lidded eyes.

“You’re so pretty, you know?” He drawls, “Has anyone told you that today?”

Togame doesn’t give you a moment to respond before his lips are already back over yours, persistent and commanding. The kind of kiss that would leave you in a breathless daze as he pulled the sunglasses that rest over his eyes up onto his messy mop of black hair.

“Jou,” You practically whine against his lips when you feel the familiar heat scorch through your veins as he runs his fingers down your clavicle, following a path towards your sternum to pause at your racing heart.

“So pretty.” He repeats, as though he needs to remind you, his warm palm grabs at your breast through your top as he delights at the way you press your body into his touch, “I don’t even understand how it’s possible—”

It’s always the same story, he knew every single thing that made you tick.

“Not right now,” You squeeze your thighs together shyly, trapping his warm palm between them as you look towards the theatre stage. With so many entrances to the building, there could be someone watching from any angle, “We don’t have time.”

“Why, sweetheart?” He rasps, “No one can see you like this, I promise. Please?”

He knows you can never say no to him— he delights in it, in fact.

“It’s not like we’ve never done anything here before,” He grins against your skin, “Soaked that chair nice and good for me last week—”

He knows what he’s doing, chipping away at the final pieces of resolve that you cling to in tight fists. Feeling the exact moment that the final one dislodges to have the entire tower tumbling down around you as he indulges in sweet victory.

“I’ll be quick.” Another lie that has you exhaling softly, Togame was many things— but you would have never described him as quick.

You could feel Togame’s fingers moving, despite the way your thick thighs caged him in. Rough callouses dragging against the damp crotch of your panties as wet lips lingered against your cheek, peppering lazy kisses against the skin as he felt you begin to loosen up. There was something so satisfying about a man begging like this— asking so nicely to get what he wants when it’s no secret that he could just take everything from you if he wanted. The brute force and unbridled power behind Togame Jou was no secret, especially to you— but his hands held you so delicately.

“That’s it,” He murmured against the shell of your ear, biting down on your earlobe as he felt you spread your thighs for him, the fabric of your skirt bunching up towards your hips, “Good girl.”

Togame pressed down against your puffy clit through the thin layer of lace as an airy gasp left your throat, leaning your head back against the worn theatre chair as he pulled your sodden panties to the side.

“So wet and I’ve barely even touched you,” His lips curled into a lazy smile against your cheek as his warm breath fanned your skin, “Is this all for me?”

You were shameless as you rocked your hips into his touch, suddenly unbothered you were in such a compromising position in public. Seeking out the sweet friction of his fingers against your sensitive nub as he dragged his digits through your messy slick.

Togame cherished the hushed gasp you made when he slipped two fingers inside your drooling cunt, feeling your walls tremble around him in an attempt to drag him deeper as he began to curl them with precision. Searching for that spot inside you he knew better than the back of his hand, rolling his wrist with intent as your chest began to heave with muted breaths.

“That’s it, sweetheart,” He hummed, bringing his other arm around the back of your chair so you could lean against him instead. Resting your head in the inner groove of his elbow as he continued to press gentle kisses against your cheek, listening to the sound of your messy slick echo around the abandoned building.

“Jou.” You whined, reaching up to cup the side of his cheek as you felt the two-day stubble rough against his jawline, tilting your head to meet his lips in a sluggish kiss that was all tongue and teeth. Capturing the husky groans that nestled deep at the back of his throat as he fingered you, melding together with the sound of your slick as you felt the coil inside you start to wind and tighten.

You could feel the intent behind his movements, the persistent thrust of his digits as he pushed them inside you to the hilt. Coating his palm in your essence before curling at the knuckle and leisurely dragging them against your velvety walls. Repeating the motion as you writhed against him, forgetting where you were altogether as you greedily searched for your own release.

“You’re always such a mess for me, sweet girl.” He broke the kiss to stare down at where your bodies were connected, the sheen of your slick glistened against his fingers as he watched them disappear inside your warm, wet cunt. Following his gaze as your cheeks flushed with heat as he moved his thumb to your neglected clit with a smug grin, delighting in the debauched noise that he pulled from your pretty lips.

“Fuck, Jou.” You bit down on your lower lip hard as Togame pressed slow, persistent circles against the pulsing nub. Drawing the hood back as your thighs began to shake and quiver from the intent behind his actions, his kiss stained lips now smoothed into a lazy smile as he watched you through tired eyes.

Ignoring your attempt to pull him back into a sloppy kiss to stop him from watching you so intensely as he leaned back with a sly shrug, “Don’t wanna miss the show.”

You scrunched your nose in irritation at his embarrassing statement, although the flood of disconcertion that washed through was quickly replaced by the persistent throb of your core as your walls clenched around his fingers. The pressure inside you built up to boiling point as you dangled on the tip of your bliss, waiting for something to push you over the edge.

“You’re so embarrassing, Jou.” You voiced your irritation, thick lashes fluttering as the pleasure ebbed away at your insides.

“Yeah?” He laughed, low and husky, “Is that why you’re lettin’ me finger you in the backseat of a theatre like some randy teenagers?”

“Oh.” You couldn’t fight the heat that flowed through you like molten lava as you felt yourself succumbing to the pleasure, crying out his name far too loudly for the position you were in as you came undone, “I’m gonna—”

“That’s it,” Togame grinned, leaning forward in his seat as he swung one of his heavy thighs over your spread knee in an attempt to stop you from closing your legs beside him. His body almost covering yours completely as he sped up his motions, fucking his fingers into your pulsing cunt with vigour as he kept his thumb rough and constant against your clit, “So pretty for me.”

Your entire body was shaking as you slid down the worn theatre seat, unable to close your thighs with Togame’s calf between them as you tried to wriggle out of his constant touch. The white hot pleasure coursing through your veins was too much— too intense as you fought to blink back the spots blanking your vision. Togame deliberately wriggled his fingers to make your sloppy cunt sound out louder in the Ori, delighting in the crude sounds before you moved your hands down to his wrist in a pathetic attempt to stop him from overstimulating you.

“Stop it,” You huff breathlessly as Togame grins, pressing a lingering kiss to your cheek.

“That’s not what you were saying a second ago when I had you creaming on my fingers, sweetheart.” Togame finally allows you a moments reprieve as he pulls his sticky fingers from your drooling hole, holding them up to the light so you can see the strings of your slick webbing between his digits as they break off into messy lines on either side. Lips curled in a lazy grin as he used his arm around your shoulders to pull you into his side, before a large bang at the side of you had you jolting in surprise.

“It’s time! Wait— is no one here?” You heard Choji’s voice shout through the main theatre, and for once you were thankful he was always so loud, “I thought Kame-chan would be here for sure.”

Togame turned his attention back to you to give you a final kiss before moving to stand, watching you fix your skirt so that you could attempt to hide what you’d both been doing moments earlier.

“Kame-chan! And Kichi-chan’s here too!” Choji waved at you both as you gave a shy wave back, watching the other Shishitoren men funnel into the main room even after all these years, “I should’ve known you’d both be here already!”

You saw Togame’s face soften as Choji called you his name of endearment for you, a warmth blooming in your chest at the sight of him. Choji had called you Togame’s lucky charm ever since he’d met you—

“Won’t be long, sweetheart.” Togame spoke before raising his wet digits to his lips to clean your glistening slick off the tips of them, unbothered that all the other men were still very much in the room as he slid his sunglasses back over his lazy eyes and made his way down to the front of the stage.

So—

1) YES he did fight with the same hand that was just buried inside you, and YES the guys could probably smell it on him ;)

2) I didn’t want Choji to call reader Y/N-chan, and I usually try super hard not to use it. So I was trying to think of a term of endearment that Choji would use for reader in place of it that wasn’t like babes or honey or something. So I settled on Kichi, which is the Japanese word for luck or good fortune— because apparently turtles in Japan are considered lucky, and that’s why they’re often found in shrines etc… and since Choji calls Togame Kame (turtle) I thought Kichi would be cute for reader. If it gave you the ick I’m sorry though just pretend it never happened xxx

#togame jo x reader #jo togame x reader #jou togame x reader #Togame jou x reader #jo Togame smut #Togame Jo smut #Togame jou smut #jou togame smut #wind breaker x reader #wind breaker smut

[haitanology]

all is said and done before doomsday comes ; s62 x fem!reader

—it’s no secret that tenjiku brings misfortune to all those whose red fabric bleeds onto their skin. before the dooming tragedy crashes upon all of your closest friends, you indulge yourselves in a night where all limits break, tasting what once was forbidden to them.

warning — smut (mdni) ! gangbang, sub!reader, rough sex, unprotected sex, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), orgasm denial, double penetration, anal, dacryphilia, squirting, lots of cum/spit/tears, creampie, praising, body worship, overstimulation, size kink, reader’s eyes are covered at one point, 69, mating press (?), some of them are filthy little freaks and others nasty little shits, kakucho not invited bc he was 14 at the time, got a master’s in dickology i guess bc never have i ever described so many with such detail, there’s probably more i missed idk

wc ~ 9.6k

note, this. this is what i bring to the function. the inability to write porn without plot, always shoving in feelings everywhere.

part i. my heart for thought.

the day before the fight between tenjiku and toman, all men close to you meet up for dinner at your apartment. a tradition dear to you ever since they were boys, with so much anger on their cupped hands spilled in the violence that filled their every desire. yet, not a single drop ever splashed onto you, their touch soft albeit drenched in murderous blood.

paths crossed after stumbling upon their formation, running away from a crowd of high school boys —at the time way older and bigger— you were the reason for their first conquest as tenjiku. a bond forged with the vivid red of your hearts’, the black of the darkness that surrounds them and the white of the ray of hope you offer.

ever since then you’ve been friends, the closest ones could ever be. your heartbeats merged; a yearning for your warmth naive. presence leaving traces of heat on their cheeks, some dark red much like their uniforms.

however, time passes, and before you now stand men. knuckles bruised and innocence gone, viciousness part of their hearts along with the thirst for a bigger power. and even then, a big chunk of their hearts and souls has never left your hands, having them crave more strongly —never understanding what they even wanted.

also having grown with them, with each year your fear has only grounded itself further. roots wrapping around your feet and having you stay put as the world they have constructed opened itself to you. screams laced in agony and tears reflecting sadness, you were aware one day those sadistic grins would perish. the thought eats you alive night and day, in your nightmares and dreams.

it wasn’t the loneliness that scared you, but the idea of losing the blood that pumps your heart. romantically, there’s nothing (or so you say); despite that, the strings that connected you to them are thicker —tough to break and more tense than they have ever been.

so tense they could come undone and tie themselves back up to a bond that’s even mightier. but nothing can make them crumble, you are sure of it.

“i don’t want you guys to fight tomorrow.” you leave your words to hang in the air, washed in the scent of loitering takeout boxes, steam circling around them.

outside, the vast darkness is splattered by dots of light. not following a pattern, entangled in their dance, two stars farther than the rest. in the wide crystals that separate your group from the cold winter night, calmness is reflected.

you barely whisper, but their attention is always on you, so to them it was as loud as a scream. a plead for tranquility to finally settle, heart stripped to vulnerability.

“why the hell not?” shion retorts, although his tone isn’t mad nor pissed off. eyes on you, like they’ve always been, feasting on your pouting lips.

he keeps the head shake to himself, chopsticks navigating through his food to keep his mind occupied. nevertheless, the plopping sounds coming from the boxed noodles have him swallowing down an invisible lump in his throat.

“have a bad feeling, dunno.” shrugging, you mumble, dulcet to combat shion’s unconscious roughness. a gesture he silently thanks, chest constricted inside of him.

not having touched the food tonight, your hands rest in heavy fists on top of your thighs. your stomach mocks you, feasting on the concern that drops upon it, twisting in giddiness that makes itself painful to you. the living room’s icy kisses bring you shivers, its presence heavy.

when the younger haitani scoffs, forcing you out of the mortal trap that are your thoughts, you notice the piercing ache in your head from your harsh wrinkles in between furrowed brows. you don’t want them to misinterpret your worrying for anger —not that they would— the curve they form now more upset.

“nothing will happen.” rindou waves your fear off with a lazy hand from his place in one of the couches. the smile he gifts you gives a tender hug, so joyful and relaxed. “as long as you’re alive, none of us could ever think of leaving you.”

they don’t need to say it out loud; they all agree.

on the other hand, you offer rindou a smile of your own. it’s nervous, trembling while it holds itself up, but ravishing in his eyes. swimming in a vivid purple, his pupils grow bigger, lights reflecting a desire for your wellbeing —a desire for you.

his words can do wonders, and while it may be just for a short time, you can proclaim there’s been an instant tonight where you’ve felt everything would be alright. the world sure wasn’t ending tomorrow, not when that same world declares it won’t. no matter what, all because of you.

yet it’s all in your eyes, wide and averting. the terror has taken over you like a parasite, taking more than sweet words to get rid of.

“yeah, we’re plenty strong!” mochi exclaims, his grin triumphant. arm lifted, he flexes it with pride to which shion rolls his eyes, but the short snort you utter makes it worth it. “what, you don’t trust us?”

your eyes broaden even more when you hear his dejected question, his smirk fallen into a disappointed frown. you shake your head, rapidly so. trusting their strength; with your heart in their hands, you don’t want it to suffer.

throughout the years, the bond that connects you to them has proven to be ever growing. your mind, body and soul as much of a part of them as your own. same for them, who have given all of those to you when all you knew were their names. if it were to be severed, something within you would die, and if it happened to morph into a more passionate craving —one none of you answer to nor understand— you’d fear for the unknown future, and the growth within your heart.

“it’s not that, i’m ju— just—“ you don’t mean to stumble upon your words, the same way you don’t want them to think you can’t leave fate on their calloused hands. taking a deep breath, you gulp. “just—“

but your words are deep in your chest, unable to get out. your gaze glistens, honing onto your fidgeting hands, blinking any trace of the soon to come tears. the bad omen only makes its presence more evident to you, poking its ugly tongue, invisible to anyone else in the living room. it’s real, vivid, and it makes you—

“scared?” it’s mucho who completes your train of thought in your stead, always listening to your heart, inviting him to the confines of your mind.

he’s never needed many words, his gaze hungry for the knowledge of you. and when you nod, answering his query, his expression relaxes. although only when your terror has truly subsided, will he rest peacefully.

“i’m terrified.” you confess, the moon at its highest peak in the darkest sea. voice thin, breakable with a simple touch.

they loathe it, your distress. a stab to their hearts even when someone else’s fright pumps it back to life. to them, that was love, caging your fragile heart in their arms so that their backs take all the damage.

a hushed promise is shared between all of them, one to save you from that dismay, no matter what it takes or how it’s done. it’s sealed, and so is the night’s fate.

there’s shuffling, muted steps silent against the floor below. in front of you stand a pair of black socks, looking up to come across the diminished violet hues of izana. a deep color honed in violence, shining with anger that once glimmered with joy. ruined by the big heart of who he thought was his brother, so eager to bring up mikey to the life they shared —their secrets, their bond, broken by the youngest’s toothy grin.

alas, you haven’t been tainted by his ill-fated hands yet, secured by his own presence. his hand, small but grounding, delicate despite how many punches it has thrown at the world around him. all blood is cleaned, resting on your thigh, caressing your skin.

an electrifying touch, much like the others’, having you sweat. heat on your face, heart hungry, but you’ve never given it much thought. you’ve always loved them, willing for the emptiness of your body to fill itself with yearning so as to not sacrifice what was carefully built.

izana speaks in gentle promises and strong declarations. he doesn’t sugarcoat what’s intense, allowing it to crush whoever hears him, wanting his love to be known. you know they do love you, but the blind eye you all turn to when it comes to the dissatisfaction of your desires will always yell louder.

“we love you, so much.” more than you could know, the silence completes, unheard.

you find the hidden words with ease, nothing will happen to us, he says, and what izana says, goes. but they are blind to the scythe in the middle of the room, itching to spin around and take its next victim. and you know, between you and those whose red jackets bleed, the result will always be one of them.

“enough to drop the fight?” you counter, your decisive frown challenging them. deepening once izana gives a slow shake of his head.

“enough to refuse to die.”

his response isn’t as reassuring as you would have liked, no matter how deep his words puncture. he gives your flesh a firm squeeze, eyes widening at the tight grip on your thigh.

clearing his throat, he turns back to his place on the couch. a small smirk, concealed as triumph when all it really shows is satisfaction. actions given out to make you forget the disappointment due to his answer.

you sit there, missing the warmth of his presence; the contact on your skin. cravings come back up, like bile stuck to your throat. you need to keep it away, as you have always done.

gulping, you focus on the clock’s ticking. small conversations are carried out between them: shion’s obnoxious laughter and rindou’s childish chuckles, the serenity of mucho’s presence, mochi’s boyish pride, the veiled kindness izana attempts to hide or ran’s attentive listening that you know makes him caring —even though he sometimes uses all he knows to poke fun at them.

you love tenjiku, even kakucho, who couldn’t be there tonight. his spot is empty, unoccupied, chopsticks untouched on top of the table. you don’t care, keeping him close to your heart as well.

“i’ll protect them, always.” mumbling, ran’s lips curve up into a smile full of fondness. adoration sparkling the hyacinth tint of his pupils, capturing the memories of the people he treasures for himself.

your own smile engraved on his mind forever, one he makes sure will always stay that way. along the light in your eyes, never dimming despite their company. you make them forget what they are, and what friends would they be if they don’t return the favor?

dinner ends when the moon is at the brightest peak of her journey. between indistinctive chatter you all clean up, the suffocating smell of food consumed by the strong winds from the ajar window.

goodbyes happen as they have done ever since the beginning. strong hugs that last longer than usual this time, pressing you closer to them, some hiding the goosebumps caused by your nose against the side of their necks. others decant for kisses on your cheek, lips so different but exuding the same elation —the exact same passion that burns you from the inside out.

the door opens; you wish for this night to keep going. a reckless dream that should have been more precise.

“i love you guys.” through wobbly words, you manage to say in a flimsy voice. stare avoiding theirs, and lips pressed together tightly. “thank you, for being in my life.”

you blink, trying to dry off your watery eyes. back of your hand wiping them, getting rid of any trace of tears. your heartbeat quickens its pace, moving its way up to your throat, unable to add anything else.

but you turn to them, fear aside, wanting to take one more look before the inevitable happens. and when you do, you come across their gaping mouths and reddish blushes, their hearts going so crazy they are just as speechless. something was different, less friendly; more intricate.

it’s shion who breaks the silence, knowing that if any of them were to touch you now, what would happen could break what was so carefully tied together. they hated to fight against what they wanted, but they could never win if it meant for everything to crumble to pieces.

the world was so unfair, depriving all of you of the purest of loves, and the night to seal it off.

“you’re gonna make me blush, cutie.” shion smirks, more a grimace than anything else, turning around to walk towards the elevator. with an aching heart and disappointment, the others follow his lead too.

“yeah, he’s gonna have to go home quickly to beat his meat in peace.” mochi snorts, their backs to you, leaving you to listen to their forced chuckles.

“oh shut the fuck up! you don’t want me to start talking.” threat dangerous enough to have mochi’s mouth shut, you dread for the moment the elevator arrives. maybe it’s for the best, as all fun has now turned sour, frustrations hard to hide in each and every expression.

you loathe this departure, the bad feeling hugging you so close you choke on your misfortune and the emptiness in your body and soul. no choice but to sit back on your couch, loveless and alone, dreading for horrible news you are sure will end up coming true.

the elevator dings, doors opening wide. before they close, all of them spare you one last look, blended in sadness and failure, for your fear persists in your shaking figure and your pleading eyes. maybe they should have kissed you so hard, you have nothing on your mind but that. filling your thoughts with each of them, helping you sleep, doing whatever it takes. but they can’t do any of that.

after all, you’re just their bestest friend. a step they’re satisfied standing in, or they convince themselves they are, at least. but has there ever been someone to stay in the middle of some stairs, waiting forever for something to happen, not making their way up themselves?

the elevator closes; so does your door. the spare key still in its place inside the potted plant by the entrance.

part ii. my body for dinner.

your bedroom welcomes you with a cold hearted hug, having you wrap your arms around yourself. the huge windows make way for the night painted in streaks of melancholy, the city below so lively; you so dejected.

giving your bed a single glance, you can already tell sleep won’t be coming tonight nor tomorrow. your love is laughable to you, shy and unwilling to make itself braver, sticking to comfort.

what’s so comforting about the loneliness you are doomed to drown in? where no helping hands remain alive to pick you up, having no choice but to join the men you love in death?

tonight will be full of these thoughts, you know that, yet they still hurt. each a stab to your body, a mockery at your soul. every ounce of positivity you try to get out of your system mere carnage to them. it had to be today, you should have crossed that line that unconsciously formed.

allowed them to come closer to you. much like shion’s calloused hands and their cold touch creeping up from behind you, covering your eyes and whispering close to your ear.

“boo!” you shriek, shoulders tense as you jump up in place. however shion’s hold is tough to get rid of, pulling you closer to him without coming across his chest. he wouldn’t have bitten back the moan that was sure to happen.

he laughs, everybody joining right after. you take a deep breath, huffing through their laughter with a hand to your chest. though you don’t want to admit, your heart’s elated at their appearance —at the fact they have come back for you.

“shion, what the hell’s your problem?” it comes out louder than intended, shrill and angry. to them, it’s obvious you don’t mean it. your brows furrow, scowling at the group of men you can’t see. “and why did you guys come back?”

when shion’s lips lean closer to your ear, hot breath fanning the side of your face, your voice falters. the question dies out, tongue starting to dry. you have to suppress the filthy little sound you almost let out when he nibbles on your earlobe.

“you knew it was me?” you gulp when his voice turns deeper, lowered to a darkened pitch that you are ashamed to admit has gone down to your core. room growing hotter. the icy loneliness dissipated the moment they all walked back in, and even so your nipples are erect against your top.

you want to blame it on the cold, but you aren’t fooling any of them with that excuse. instead, you try to turn the situation around, gaining control and drawing another line.

“you didn’t answer my question.”

“you didn’t answer his.” bold as ever, izana takes the control off your hands unapologetically so. previous fondness gone, reserved in his heart for his full desires to let loose. at least, it’s what they all promised to do before clicking your floor’s button again.

deciding against remarking that you did ask first, you take one last deep breath. it’s filling and calming, not easing your erratic beating but doing wonders to clear your head. you don’t know what to do, having them all on your side, a stupid line long forgotten. is giving in to them your best choice?

or rather— is what you have always wanted the best choice?

with your next answer, soft spoken and sincere, you have erased any chance of such a line existing again. the fate of the night has been set, written in the stars watching behind your windows. destiny promised to the moon, gifting all of you the pleasure you’ve been seeking for.

“of course i know it’s him. i know each and every one of you.” because you love them, and because they love you so much too, they’ll help you without a doubt. in the nastiest way they can, but they’ll keep that to themselves.

for a brief second, shion’s hands leave your face to have you see them all. with barely any time to register the image of their eager eyes and hungry mouths, you are grabbed by the aforementioned and pushed to the bed, where you are now sitting on his lap. hands back to your eyes, nerves corrupting your mind.

biting back a whimper when your ass inevitably bumps into his clothed crotch, you notice shion’s breath staggers as well. it’s not too evident yet, but you know his cock will turn much harder, the wet kiss he gives your nape leaving a trail of goosebumps down your back.

you press your thighs —already close together— much harsher. the friction isn’t helping, but you don’t want shion to feel your throbbing cunt at the thought of what could happen. of what is sure to happen.

“we know you’d be awake tonight, still scared of us dying.” izana’s voice, under the sturdy curtain of playfulness, carries heed. their eagerness however, mixes in to give the atmosphere a knot of tension that must be undone. forming for years, but so fragile. “we want to help you forget, for you to relax.”

he doesn’t specify how they’ll do that; you don’t want to ask either. their response comes in heavy footsteps, a presence stopping right ahead of you, breaths heavy and fervent. then, your own breathing halts, leaning towards the anticipating uncertainty.

a hand is tamely placed on your cheek. huge, with big long fingers, and cosy, making you lean your head towards his hold. touch mild despite the brutality you know it unleashes, but you bathe in the traces lit up with craving fire as it slides down your face. moving down towards your chest, where a single finger circles around your covered boobs, crossing to your nipples to play with their hardness. his thumb joins to pinch one, your muted moan silenced by shion’s groaning at your ass’ moving.

“do you know who’s touching you now?” the latter wonders, tone low and full of need. through quick breaths he regains his composure, but his straining cock calls for your pulsating cunt so desperately.

unknown hand making its way below, it stops right above your clothed pussy. with its lone force he parts your legs apart, giving light slaps to the thin fabric of your pijama. you hum, leaning your head back to shion’s shoulder, legs making more way for the hand to go deeper.

it does, taking the hem of your pants and sliding them down to your ankles, where you make quick work to get rid of them. your panties are on full display, the darkened spot from your arousal a feast for their eyes. his lone finger once again slides against your underwear, the damp circle having the boy licking his dry lips. meddling with your entrance, but never quite entering, you want to beg him too, so badly. thought scrapped when his finger presses through to the wet mess that is your sex.

“yasuhiro…” you whisper, a primal want dressing it as a throaty moan leaving you to shudder in place. the mention of his first name, uttered so airily, sends blood rushing straight to his cock, giving an angry twitch silenced by his pants.

whining when mucho’s finger leaves your arousal, moving up to the hem of your panties, it singlehandedly pulls them down. legs moving to aid him in taking them off, letting the cool air be the first to taste your naked folds, covered in shining slick as it begins to clench around nothing.

“you want us that much, it’s good to know.” mucho declares, underwear pending on his index finger as he shows it to the rest, too distracted on your bare wetness. he discards it somewhere across the room, the sound of his voice so sensual to your growing impatience. “we want you so much, too.”

easy to tell by your dampened shoulder, where shion has let out a glob of his drool at the sight of you. fully hard cock pressed against your bare ass, rubbing your plump skin as he swallows all spit from his hunger. you don’t care, clenching your jaw at the absence of attention at yourself, your hands still as you know it wouldn’t be enough.

“such a beautiful pussy, so wet and needy.” is all mucho says before leaving your side, having you want to cling onto him and pull him closer with your wrapped legs. nevertheless, a new pair of hands rest on your thighs, just as big but way softer. tender skin well taken care of, rubbing your flesh near your core.

he’s graceful with his ministrations, long fingers ghosting over your clit. it’s easy to tell who carries himself with such elegance, dainty hands so curious yet sure of what to do. confirmed when his tongue licks its way up your cunt, lapping at your slick folds and sucking the plump flesh.

his tongue penetrates you, curling around to reach every spot it can get. you convulse around him, his insatiable mouth never getting enough of your slit, taking all the juices he can get. you wrap your legs around him, imprisoning him to your pussy. being barely able to register shion’s questioning, so eager to get an answer out of you.

“do you know who’s eating you out? can you tell?” you don’t say a word, poking your tongue out as you can only let out strangled noises. muttered cries for more, drool falling out of the corners of your lips.

your lack of a response isn’t welcomed. the confirmation of who’s hungrily devouring you coming when his pointy nose flickers your clit. choking your sobs at the tightness on your lower stomach, so willing to come undone as you buck your hips into his face —a feeble try to ride his big nose.

“oh—fuck!” you cry out, hearing the braided man slurping on your slick. cunt pulsing, begging for something more to fill it with. hands to the top of his head, ruining his perfectly combed hair with your grip. “ran, it’s ran!”

and for a job well done, he leaves your pussy unattended to give your clit a thankful kiss, resounding in the silent room. you hate it when his strength is much more than your own, pulling away from your hold. all the buildup inside you for naught.

shion’s tongue moves fast to wipe out your saliva, cleaning your lips and replacing the shine with his own. offering a chaste kiss to your cheek, at the same time that ran licks his lips with a content sigh.

“tastes so good, could eat her for hours.” he tells the rest. savoring the flavor of you inside his mouth, he gathers what is left around his lips and nose.

without much time to prepare for what’s next, as everyone in the room has grown eager to have you, your body writhes from the disturbance of a thick, prodding finger inside your cunt. walls squeezing the single digit, unmoving, a victorious grin on the man’s face at the spectacle you offer by thrusting your hips into his finger —fucking yourself with it.

shion’s breezy moans in the background don’t help his case in having the voice of the group. recomposing himself from the implacable grinding his dick receives. this time, he stutters, his hold on you turning frail. he doesn’t sound so cocky now, restraint crumbling without having any hands to pick it up with.

“a—and do you know whose finger is in— si—inside you right now?” he finishes with one long inhale, teeth biting his bottom lip.

on the other hand, you fight off the brimming tears in your eyes with your grinding. lengthy finger shoved in fully so that his knuckles are pressed against you, bruised and battered. less kept together but so welcomed by your walls anyway.

“mo—mochi.” you answer almost immediately, hopeful that he would do something to reward you for it. for his finger to pound you relentlessly until you finally cum. the thought alone sends you to clench around him, asking for more.

but mochi turns out to be sadistic, taking out his finger coated in your essence. you don’t see how he brings it up to his mouth, taking it fully to lap at your slick with an echoing pop. your breath hitches, shion’s pants now wearing darker stains.

“no first name for me?” he mocks you, teasing grin growing wider. silence greets him, and he does well to beat it by causing the first scream of the long night ahead. shoving three of his fingers inside your cunt, unannounced.

they curl, setting a merciless pace of back and forth to reach as deep as he can. the squelching sounds accompanied by your uncontrollable moans, high pitched and cursing out. the pressure builds once again in your stomach, back arching so his tough fingers can keep touching you in every spot possible.

“ah! kanji— sorry, so sorry kanji!” you beg for him to forgive you, spewing out apology after apology between the growing tears and trailing drool.

“it’s ok sweetheart, i love you.” he reassures you. so nice to you, your walls thank him by closing in on him. so good for him, leaving him to grunt from how obedient you are being.

“love you t—“ you want to tell him and the rest of them, in all its glory now that all limits have been broken and left behind.

however, rindou seems to have other plans, shoving mochi away not caring about his shouted protests nor your mewling at the emptiness of your pussy once again. orgasm denied for the second time, rindou’s weight bringing you to lie down on top of shion, lips chasing after your own.

they join together in a feverish kiss, viciousness bringing you two to a world of just both. lips tasting one another; tongues playing with each other, in such an aggressive way spit makes it way down your mouths and to your bumping chins. noses hitting as rindou tries to get even closer to you.

shion’s hands are forced out of your eyes, having you witness in the dead of the night, swimming in darkness, the pile of clothes by the bed. the men are all in front, almost naked if it weren’t for their underwear. doing little to cover their blazing erections.

“want you s’bad.” he breaks the kiss, a thin string of saliva connecting the two of you. mumbled so close to your lips, he takes yours in his without hesitation, teeth clashing and tongues entangled.

you wrap your arms around his neck, fingers ghosting over the streaks of black ink swirling through his back. muscles tense, he groans in your mouth and lowers his hips to your core. clothed cock rubbing against your folds, looking for more friction as he moves faster.

beside you, shion undresses, glancing over to rindou picking you up to kneel ahead of him, arms wrapped around your waist. empty thumps are heard from his grinding, and he decides to crawl his way behind you to help him in getting rid of your top.

effortlessly, they succeed in having you be the first to be completely naked. both men ogling your body up and down. your curves, every inch and crevice of your skin a feast for all of them. some palming their cocks through the fabric, others like rindou and shion, marking you with their mouths.

“so divine.” rindou mumbles, his arms and shion’s controlling your squirming from pleasure. hot breath trailing down to your naked boobs, hands drawing shapes on your flesh. “gorgeous body, all for us.”

you want to nod, instead drooling at their two hard cocks caging you between them. shion grabbing your ass cheek, playing with the molding skin by stiffening his grip. you moan their names, the covered contact insufficient.

“want your cocks, want you inside please.” begging for them, your hands make their way down to grab at their clothed dicks. both men pant, fingers wrapped around their lengths, feeling their hardened girths. “please fuck me.”

and with that said, both of them take off their underwear to have it join the rest of sprawled out clothes. in the dim lighting, with only the moon and the stars as witnesses, only the sparkling light in your pupils guides you to your instincts. so famished, tongue watering at rindou’s erected cock, intimidating as it stands —starving for your pussylips.

he’s big and very thick, a single protruding vein running down his length. red, angry tip, leaking precum and leaving it to slide down to pool around the base of his shaft. balls full and large, saliva drowning your mouth.

shion doesn’t stay far behind, not as big and way thinner, curving slightly to the right. his veins aren’t as marked but there are many, cockhead thick and itching to bury itself inside you. fat drop of precum waiting to fall into the mattress.

with a hand he guides his member to your folds, gathering all the wetness he can get. having you moan against rindou’s mouth, drowning any sound, you pull away to taste shion’s lips as well. spit mixing in with your eager tongues, hearing him swallow.

“can’t wait anymore.” you hear rindou complain, tip prodding at your entrance as he begins to penetrate you. a content sigh leaving your lips, whole length making its way past your tightened walls, cock molding the shape of your cunt to adjust to his size.

bottoming out, cockhead brushing your cervix, you and rindou moan in unison at eachother’s warmth. walls squeezing him so hard, his own cock buried in your wet pussy —the pressure so tempting to have you thrust against him.

and you do, bucking your hips onto his twitching cock, balls slapping your skin to create the filthiest of sounds. wet plops from rindou’s pace sending you into a frenzy, meeting his rhythm so that the coiling tension thickens and explodes into your orgasm.

“taking me in so well— fuck—“ although you can’t register rindou’s praises too well, shion’s rutting against your ass beginning to change into the intrusion of his dick inside your hole. pushing his way in with a single thrust —your very own slick acting out as lube.

you yell out his name when he hisses yours, spreading your ass open as his cock splits you apart. both holes completely filled, hints of pain slapped off by rindou’s fastening pumps. gripping shion so well, clenching around his girth and feeling every vein slide past your heated flesh.

“too much! s’good…” you cry out, the first set of tears coming out from your shut eyes. joining the threads of saliva you can’t keep in your mouth, mixing in on their way down your face.

the single vein running down rindou’s shaft ravages your walls so roughly. their tempo matching so that you never feel utterly empty, balls shaking with each snap of their hips. ecstasy choking you when rindou’s tip kisses your g-spot, relentlessly going at it so that more tears stain your vision —hazy and blurry.

you can distinguish izana’s nearing body, hand on his cock while he gives it a few pumps. he leans closer to your face, same fingers coated in his cum wiping your closed eyes. painting your face, you hum, growing hot as you convulse around both of the men’s cocks. answering you by pulsing through your clenching walls.

“these are the tears i love to see.” giving his finger a kitten lick, saltiness of your pleasure melting in his tongue, izana takes your limp hand and brings it up to his dick. “want to shower your face with my cum. you’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

you nod, hand taking his cock and stroking it with deep movements. barely keeping it together with the sloppy pace both cocks inside you are falling into, forcing you to sometimes squeeze his length, drawing out throaty moans from the dark skinned man.

your cool fingers gliding past his searing meat make of him a fervent mess, hips bucking to fuck himself with your hand. head on rindou’s shoulder, you stare at his own tilted back, adam’s apple bobbing as your name is the only thing his lips can say.

“cutie your ass is so tight.” shion drags his cock out with difficulty, hole so adamant in keeping him in. only his tip rests inside, forcing your ass to remember his shape. “gonna fill it up, alright?”

he doesn’t leave room for answers, burying himself deep inside until your vision turns blind. rindou’s cock mimicking his actions, growing at the thought of your cunt taking all of his cum.

“gonna cum—“ you spit out, rindou’s shoulder welcoming your saliva and tears, joining his thin layer of sweat. “cumming, i’m cumming!”

“me too.” it escapes past his kissing teeth, the tremors of your body having him give one last powerful thrust before stilling inside of you. rolling his eyes, his risen shoulders relax once his orgasm crashes upon him. “keep it inside for me, will you?”

you do, for both of them emptying themselves inside of you. hot strings of sticky cum crawling into your holes, painting your walls white and having them spasm and contract as you let your own orgasm wash rindou’s length. he doesn’t let it run out, fucking the union of your juices back into you, not a single drop wasted. feeling so full, heaving out praises to both blushing boys.

“our good girl.” shion pats your head, soft kiss on your back and hands fondling your tits. you regain your breath still by rindou’s shoulder, knowing it’s not over yet with the way izana’s cockhead nears your face.

the two boys’ cocks leave your holes the moment izana’s twitches. releasing his load on your face, reaching your lashes, forehead and cheeks. streaks of cum painting your skin in a dense white, giving the last touch to your fucked out expression.

“god i love you so much.” admiring his work, and the way your cunt and asshole fight desperately to keep shion and rindou’s seeds. his smile broadens at the thought that this is just getting started.

indeed, mochi’s next in taking you into his arms, so small compared to his size. you don’t have time to regain your breath, composure crushed by the brutality of the s-62, quivering at mochi’s frosting hands.

“so sensitive already, sweetheart.” and so easy to handle, too. moving you as he pleases, lying down on the bed and having you on his chest, right above his underwear and bulging cock.

the big stain of precum is evident on the light grey fabric. an enormous bump waiting to be freed of its confined space. dark, trimmed hairs leading the way to his aching dick. your hands on his abs, stroking his built chest and floating up to his pecs.

his hands cup your ass, thumbs kneading the plush skin and hovering over your widened hole. you feel his dick jump up, taming him with a rock of your body pushed by your legs. he groans, guttural desire drying out his throat, starving for your glistening folds.

“can take it.” you promise him, small whisper loud in the quietude of your room. where the men touch themselves to the landscape of the shade of your figure plastered on the bright nightlife ahead of your windows.

he chuckles, vibrating chest so good for your throbbing pussy, waking up his cock even more. a hand trails up to your face, big thumb pinning your bottom lip. his tongue wetting his lips.

“course you will.” he says it like it’s obvious, dragging down the swollen lip until your bottom teeth can be seen. fingers full of your saliva, drying patches from the previous crying making you look so filthy. exactly how he likes it. “want these lips around my big cock, gonna give you a full meal.”

grabbing onto your hips, he turns you around with one swift twirl. pulling your ass closer to him, legs on each side of his face lifting your lower body, back arching as you are laid down in front of his underwear. clenching around nothing at the compromising position, mochi’s first to dig in to your cunt —tongue flickering your clit so erratically, you purr.

alas, you now have to fully undress him, taking the rim of his clothes and sliding them to the middle of his crushing thighs. he wriggles his legs, aiding you in taking them off completely, widely grinning against your pussy when you gasp at the full size of his erection.

standing furiously near his chest, where your chin hovers above his pubes. the size is enormous, so thick and dressed in many veins that draw intricate curves on his meat, making him even wider. mushroom tip prominent, broad slit already seeping out so much precum. fat plumps of a dirtied white gliding down his whole length, pooling around his base where even bigger, heavy balls rest. your mouth waters at just how much cum he will give you, hurrying up when the tip of his nose lightly teases your entrance.

your hand takes his shaft, whimpering when you see the struggle your fingers have wrapping around it. you pump it once— twice, mochi’s groaning so good for your cunt, going down on his nose so that the tip enters you. when your lips near his head to give it open mouth kisses, wet plops taking bits of his salty cum, your hand holds his balls, playing with them as they barely fit inside.

you take his tip in your mouth, warmth enveloping his cock as you try to move down on him. only taking almost half of his length, breathing through your nose and hollowing out your cheeks, easing your throat as his hips buckle onto your face. his moaning going straight to your pussy, where he begins to grow desperate slurping on your juices. noises nasty, making you moan and tighten your throat on his cock. tongue darting to lick every crevice, drooling so much it accumulates at the base.

both continue the rhythm of your grinding bodies, building your climaxes and chasing after them. hunger making you frantic, savoring every bit of essence as if it were your last meals.

“looks so pretty.” you listen to mucho’s voice on your back, his hand on one of your cheeks. “but i think you can take more.”

he declares it so impassively, keeping his cool as always, that you don’t see his hand raised and profoundly slapping your ass. it jiggles, closing in on mochi’s pointed tongue licking slow stripes. you scream, muted against the wet heat in your mouth. another hand joins mucho, this time being ran’s long finger entering your ass, so sensitive from shion’s stretching not long ago.

both of their fingers buried knuckles deep, a third hand slaps you once again as they begin to stimulate your hole. their ministrations along with mochi’s starved devouring pushing you to take more of the latter’s dick, gagging through parted lips as you take him fully —choking on his tip at the very back of your throat.

nose pressed against his bouncing balls, fucking your face as you do the same to his nose and tongue. your chin scratched by the bush near his shaft, you cry out feeble attempts of his name as more spit leaves your lips, fat tears joining.

“there we go pretty!” seems the third hand belongs to izana, cheering you through the orgasm that pours down onto mochi’s face. giving one more hard slap that sends your skin tingling, trapping mucho and ran’s fingers on your ass, finally letting loose.

you come undone, flooding mochi’s face with your cum and crushing his face with your thighs. he doesn’t seem to care, lapping at your cum without shame, drinking it until nothing is left out, before joining you and snapping his hips to release his load.

it’s dense, so much cum leaving his cock you can barely swallow it all. hot spurts abusing your throat, leaving thick trails out the corners of your lips that you’ll take care of later. it keeps fluttering, but never once you leave it unattended, making sure all of his semen is sucked dry. breathing in when you let it go, tip of your tongue gathering what little is around your lips.

you swallow it down loudly, the echoing plop from your mouth leaving his cock free so gratifying for his ears. he gives your cunt a mellow kiss, tenderness fighting off his roughness.

“good girl.” he coos, readjusting you as he pleases so that you now lie in his direction, ass against his still hard cock. he holds your chin and turns your head around to his, deeply kissing you, passing down the rest of your orgasm so you can taste the sweetness he did. “we love you so much, you are perfect for us.”

and you smile, fond and big it has their hearts pounding in their chests. you kiss the tip of his nose, giddy from their worship.

however, mochi moves up so that his head rests on your pillow. hands tracing patterns on your skin, watching your stomach rise from the harsh breaths you are taking.

“got one more in me.” he mutters close to your ear, feet parting your legs open, showing the rest your abused holes. “will you be a sweetheart and take it?”

how can you deny him when he asks so politely? previous fingering helping you for what will happen now, cock rubbing through your ass cheeks, willing to take his big dick to split you apart. pushing in, slowly making his way through unlike shion’s desperate entrance.

you wriggle in his hold, mochi shushing you by whispering sweet nothings into your ear. wailing at the size you have to adjust to, a little easier thanks to shion. your cum stained face is full of fresh tears and brand new globs of spit. tongue lolling out of your parted lips when he bottoms out.

buried deep inside your ass, filling you to the brim with each thick vein hitting you just right. your squinted eyes widen tremendously at mochi’s calling, gripping him so tightly at the idea of being torn apart by the two biggest.

“mucho, wanna join in? she wants it.” and he doesn’t hesitate to crawl up to where you are, underwear long gone. his cock isn’t much different from mochi’s, less thicker but way longer, looking so delicious against his chiseled chest.

he takes your legs, having them bend down near your shoulders, leaving so much room to hit even deeper. entranced by your wet cunt, glossy and begging for his cock to break it. and who is he to say no to his woman?

in one swift plunge, he finds himself buried to the hilt. balls swinging as the sound of smacking flesh from his ruthless penetration elicits the most pornographic moan he has ever heard from you. massaging his cock just the way he likes it, sponging walls enclosing the space and making him feel impossibly closer.

“so fucking tight— god, fuck!” he growls, pushing you to mochi’s chest, boobs pressed against mucho’s big —worked out— pecs. sandwiched between both men, ruining your insides just by staying still, you sob for them to ruin you —to move faster.

“s’big… ‘s too big—” your incoherent mumbles become higher in tone, allowing them to rock your body as they please. trying to meet their hips as they pound you dumb, reckless rocking making you cry out in ecstasy. “lov— love you s’much. luv your cocks s’much.”

your babbling pushes them to thrust harder. having you whine when mucho stops and his hand lightly slaps your cum covered cheek, calling for your attention. you look up at him, teary eyes sending heat straight to his cock, throbbing against your cunt.

“you see that?” he points down at your belly, a small bulge making it stick out. you take your hand to trace its shape, a silent chuckle gifting hints of happiness to your fucked out face. “that’s my cock, babygirl.”

and you love it, he knows you do. picking up his pace to meet mochi’s, so engrossed in your ass. he doesn’t want this moment to end.

you don’t notice how both of your hands are taken by shion and rindou, hard once again. but they know you don’t care when each hand takes their cocks, already familiar to you, beginning to masturbate them. their moaning helping your orgasm build up, this time stronger, with mucho ruthlessly pounding against your g-spot.

your head turns to the side, coming face to face with ran’s dick. he slaps you with it, playing with your hanging tongue by wetting it with your saliva. you stare up at his innocent grin, him looking down with dilated pupils.

“there’s still a hole unoccupied.” he simply mentions, cock twitching when your hand pulls the foreskin back to expose his angry head. so pale and long you don’t know what you’ll do to make it fit. curving up, he applies his precum to your lips like gloss, pushing in with his hips until he’s balls deep into your mouth.

body used by all of them, including izana whose hands are on your swollen clit, it doesn’t take long for your legs to begin their uncontrollable tremble. this time’s different, your moans turning into shrill shouting as a stream of tears run down your eyes, closed in bliss as you begin to see stars.

your third orgasm hits you harder than any other, right after mochi cums for the second time filling you up to the brim with his huge loads. you begin squirting all over mucho’s cock, squelching sounds getting wetter as more and more cum leaves out of you in hot spurts. he takes it out, watching as you make a mess of mochi’s legs, the mattress and his abs.

“shit!” you moan out, cum gliding down mucho’s cock that has entered you again. though your words are muffled by ran’s dick around your lips, you continue squirting out all your juices, milking out mucho’s cock in the process.

he has so much cum too, cunt stuffed full of his own after your mind blowing orgasm. balls drenched as well, but his smile tells you enough, and you don’t feel ashamed of it —even better, only proud.

pulling away, despite mochi’s cock still buried into your ass, he leaves your chest free for shion and rindou, who don’t take too long in covering your tits and stomach with their loads. satisfied groans out of their lips as they admire their work, thick globs of white on your sweaty skin.

ran’s the last to empty out his cum, doing it inside your mouth much like mochi. you take it all without hesitation, opening wide for him to see you gulping down his seed. uttering a sigh when you’ve eaten it fully, kissing the tip of his cock for a job well done.

“nasty little whore.” you have no idea who says it, the loss of mochi’s dick as he comes out of you taking over your mind. oozing cum follows, filthy trickles running down into your cunt, where you do a good job in retaining what they have given you. “our perfect slut, should’ve done this sooner.”

you agree, spent after three rough orgasms. alas, you see two men staying on the bed —two men that haven’t been inside of you yet. but you are so sore you don’t know if you can take them. such big cocks just like the rest of them.

“we want to taste you, too.” it’s ran’s voice, the one he uses when he wants something. turning innocent, words so tender they heal your tiredness with dulcet touches. you hate when he does that, falling for it every time. “you’ll let us, right? we’ll be gentle, i promise.”

your moans are so loud with each touch, both izana and ran standing you up on your knees, between both of their bodies. you teeter, head tumbling towards the man you have in front, which turns out to be the older haitani. shoulder so comfortable, you nuzzle closer to the side of his neck, kissing it.

your pussy takes him right up, so tight despite being so used throughout the night. he’s washed in the remains of your orgasm, easy for him to move, but he doesn’t. you wonder why, whining against his neck and jumping on his cock, legs quivering so hard you know it won’t take you much to cum again.

instead, a second cock makes its way up your cunt, having you scream out for your fourth orgasm at the close fit of both dicks inside your pussy. they rub one another, not appearing to care too much as both of their eyes are closed, jaws clenched. you squeeze them, adjusting to their size and ignoring the pain for the cum sliding down past them.

you’re crying, tears licked by izana’s tongue as he rejoices in them. no longer are you sobbing from fear, but so destroyed by each and every one of them you have nothing left of you but scorching pleasure.

“already?” he purrs, dragging his cock out just to thrust once more. skin gliding past ran’s veiny shaft, making him move as well, desperate for his release. “but you’ll let us cum, won’t you? after we’ve been so good to you…”

he trails off, falling into rhythm with ran, abusing your cunt for a little while longer. convulsing against them, forcing them closer, tightening your walls so that you can get out another orgasm for them. to show how grateful you are.

“we’ve been so helpful, haven’t we?” he slaps your clit, ran’s lips latching onto your nipples, sucking them clean. chest pressed on his own, sticky cum joining your bodies.

“yes! want you to cum in me.” you cry out, hips meeting their thrusts, bouncing on both of their cocks, balls slapping your pussy. “want you to stuff me!”

tongue poking out, ran moves up to take it between his lips, playing with it in his mouth. pulling his lips to yours in a messy kiss, so full of exchanged spit and trailing drool to your chins. you love it, you love them, and you show them by squeezing them so tightly they have no choice but to fill you up with their cum.

“well, pretty girl, take it.” izana grunts, and with one big roll of his hips, he empties himself inside of you. ran follows suit, whimpers and moans drowned out by eachother’s mouths.

you join them with your last orgasm of the night, leaving you barely conscious on the bed, drenching their cocks with one last wave of cum. you stay there, sprawled out on the bed for all to see, face full of dried out tears, so many different salivas around your swollen lips and remnants of izana’s cum. your body follows suit, drenched in sweat and thick lines of cum following down to the small little bulge on your stomach.

it’s mucho’s hand that presses that tiny bump, all watching as all the cum you’ve tried so desperately to keep inside oozes out of your beaten cunt, huge loads wetting the bed below you. your ass much of the same. you groan, whimpering at his touch, hips bucking unconsciously.

and with two fingers, mucho again shoves some of their seeds back inside, to leave you full. you close your legs, stretching your sore muscles from all the rough handling tonight. the moon’s still up, and its glow is casted above you, giving your enamored smile and angelic touch.

they all lie around you, circling you. shion and mochi on your thighs, rindou and mucho by your chest, and ran and izana near your head. soothing your muscles, kissing every spot they can.

“thank you.” it’s honest, despite the pain it brought, you enjoyed it more than anyone you are sure. in the darkest corner of your heart, it’s what you’ve always wanted, and you got it.

izana doesn’t want to ask if there’s any other thought inside your head that isn’t what just happened. after all, they’ve fucked you dumb. you have a hard time opening your eyes, breaths still long and shallow with huffing here and there.

he’s relieved, your suffering fully gone, consumed by their yearning. leaning down, his lips peck yours, back of his fingers brushing the side of your face.

“we’ve loved you like this for such a long time.” ran confesses, so vulnerable post-sex you love it. always having it hard to open his heart to what he’s feeling, trying to shove it in with insecure cockiness. you are glad it’s him who declares it.

your finger boops his nose, the two of you sharing childish laughter.

“me too.” you whisper, wanting to pat the other’s heads. to show them that you consider them, always. “but it’s all good, now i’m yours.”

and it felt so good to hear, meaning twisted to turn more romantic. more heartfelt, something they aren’t used to, but you’ll give it to them every time they need it.

“and all of us belong to you, but that’s nothing new.” you chuckle at shion’s words, legs numb and body resting. the bed becomes more plush to your body, hugging you and lulling for you to sleep. you try so hard to fight it, never wanting the moon to leave. for this to become a memory.

“i wish for this night to never end. to stay like this forever.” you dream, a foolish one. the moon will always leave and the sun will replace it, and this would only have belonged to the night before doomsday comes.

“c’mon, let’s give you a warm bath.” mochi says before you doze off into a deep slumber. missing their soft cleaning and the close attention to your body. praising it, worshipping all it has done for their enjoyment. they thank you in warm kisses and dark hickeys, thinking to themselves that after tonight, the result of tomorrow cannot escape their grasps.

they must win, for the woman so full of love for them. so that they can live their lives as one, together forever. and perhaps, all of you should have dreamed harder, because the memory of tonight would be the last between you all.

izana and mucho taken away by death’s greedy hands. you, having fallen so deep into a sea of darkness, you had to escape before it all consumed you. the only ones to hold this night close to their hearts, having their friends engraved in hanafuda and your love in their chests, where your initials rest.

everyone of you looking up at the moon every night, begging for her to take you back to that night —the night before doomsday comes.

— end —

good or bad i’m throwing it out there that english isn’t my first language. thank you for reading <3 our troops are so brave, getting through this whole thing and ending up with brain trauma (probably) anyway, reblogs are appreciated :) it’s like a pat on my back (yipee)

( @tenjikusstuff4 @luminouslaybyrinth @idekwhatimdoingsblog )

#ran haitani x reader #rindou haitani x reader #ran x reader #rindou x reader #izana x reader #mochi x reader #mucho x reader #shion x reader #ran haitani x you #rindou haitani x you #rindou x you #ran x you #ran haitani #rindou haitani #haitani brothers #izana kurokawa #shion madarame #kanji mochizuki #yasuhiro muto #tenjiku #tenjiku x reader #tokyo revengers x you #tokyo revengers smut #tokyo revengers x reader #tokyo revengers #izana smut

[radiance1]

Okay, Teddy bear au, child Danny au, mixed together with a twist. GO!

So, in this au Danny had his accident earlier than in canon, I would say about 5-10 on the scale meter you can decide how accurately aged he is. The Teddy bear is Danny's true body, however, he does have this ability like astral projection or something.

Basically, his human body he can call out, though his toy body is his true one. He can walk just fine as a teddy bear, but human body gives him more height and fingers and he can give himself a hug too!

Danny, genuinely, does not understand the concept of death, and why it's bad. Because he died, and he's still alive, he can still do everything he did when he was alive.

He's like half dead and half alive so he's the exception but ANYWAYS.

Danny ends up in another dimension, he doesn't know how, but he does. He doesn't understand the concept of death, because how he sees it, death isn't the end. So, there you have a toddler, a toddler with extremely powerful abilities, who doesn't understand why death is bad and that not everyone can come back from it and isn't both emotionally and mentally mature enough to use his powers responsibly.

So, what happens?

Pure, and utter, chaos.

Sometimes Danny is having fun, other times he's mad, other times sad. None of those are good things for everyone else around, people would die, buildings would crumble, etc, etc.

All because of this [insert age here] year old child with a Teddy Bear.

Insert Klarion the witch boy.

Who sees this child, filled with the potential to cause mass amounts of chaos and create fun. who is instinctively walking the path of a budding Chaos Lord despite not having magic, and who is yet to be swayed by Order or any other force.

Well, we'll just say Klarion finds himself with a new friend!

#dc x dp #dp x dc #dp x dc crossover #dpxdc #dcxdp #dc x dp crossover

[neoarchipelago]

And they were roommates (Part 10)

A/N : God... part 10 already! i am so so scared to post this chapter i'm torn to be in between this is good and this is trash so... be merciful!

Warnings: VIOLENCE! BLOOD! GRAPHIC !

_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_

The realization kept spinning in your brain. He was darkends. He had been so close to you from the beginning. Fuck he knew you before you started working on the damn mission! 

"I… Don't understand… you moved in before I started working on this…" you questioned. 

He sent you a look in the rear view mirror. 

"Correct. The mission had started before they asked you to join. I was supposed to simply make sure they were failing. Infiltrating the base, keeping undercover, ruining your search and probably send you on a wrong path." He explained. 

You watched through the car window, trying to figure out where he was taking you. 

While you started thinking about some way to escape, your mind quickly stopped on your connected watch. 

"But then I met you. Such a pretty girl." 

The praise made you nauseous. He watched the road as you started preparing your move on your watch. 

"You started working on the mission and fuck" he chuckled. "You became even more interesting!" He cheered. 

You kept clicking on your watch, sending your location to your contacts. All of them because you weren't exactly paying attention. 

While you were working on your laptop in the hideout, while you kept passing over and over the events that almost got you killed, you had decided to prepare a little safety net. You hacked your connected watch, creating a locking system that would send your live location to contacts of choice. You thanked your past self. 

"You were so bright, so smart, you managed to fully counter my attacks or find every little thing I tried to hide. Your mind… fascinated me." He kept obsessing. 

You could have been flattered if this wasn't said by a psychopath stalker trying to kidnap you. You were loosening the strap of your watch taking it off. You let it fall on the floor making sure to hide the small watch in your pocket. 

"So you decided to try to kill me ?! That makes no fucking sense Peter! If that's even your real name!" You raged. Fuck your throat right now. 

"Oh it is. It's not Hansen though. I didn't try to kill you. You were so sad when I met you… remember?" He spoke in an angrier tone. 

You were trying to figure something out, some way to escape even if you had to jump out of the car. 

"Because of that dickhead." 

"Don't call him that!" You yelled. 

"Shut up!" He roared. 

You were taken aback. It was the first time he actually yelled at you.

"That fucking asshole left you broken. And then he comes back and you let yourself be manipulated by him! You were meant to be fucking MINE." 

You felt your skin crawl. He was turning completely mad. And you were feeling the panic grow. 

"You and me…. Can you think about it? How we'd be the most powerful couple ever? We'd be Bonnie and Clyde…" 

"They fucking died…" you noted. 

"Such a smart mouth. You're lucky I also like that about you." He threatened. 

You bit your lip. Now wasn't the moment to be a smart ass. 

"So yeah. I got jealous. I thought maybe I could make you realize he wouldn't keep you safe. And then I'd propose to be your bodyguard and you know, make you fall for me… make you realize how good we'd be together." He kept explaining. 

You were finally understanding where he was headed. To one of the bases exit. He was trying to take you out of the base. 

"You won't be able to take me far. Even if you leave the base." You said. 

"Don't worry. I have friends waiting for us." He smirked. 

You swallowed hard. 

"What are you going to do with me…" that scary question was the only thing in your mind now. 

"That'll depend on you." 

The way he said it scared you horribly. It was terrifying. 

The tension was broken by your phone ringing. Price was calling you. 

"Go on birdie. Answer. Put it on speakerphone and give. It."

You obeyed, although unwillingly. 

"Sparrow, where are you?!" 

He sent a look in the rearview mirror for you to answer. 

"I'm in the car with Hansen." 

"Are you alright?! We found Soap." 

"Is he alright?!" You worried immediately. 

"He's ok. He said Hansen injected him with something." 

"What?! What the fuck did you do! You said you didn't hurt him!" You yelled, making Price aware of the listener. 

"I didn't. I simply tranquilized him. He took a nap." He laughed. 

"Hansen. What's going on?!" Laswell roared. 

"I'm simply taking what belongs to me." He spoke matter of factly. 

"What are you talking about?" 

"My birdie." 

Silence fell on the call. You knew she had understood. She knew the truth. 

"You won't be able to leave this base, I can assure you that." She said. 

"Ah don't worry. I'll manage. Where's the other disguised idiot? Hand him over. I want to speak to him." 

You closed your eyes. No. This was going to be horrible. You were absolutely shocked to hear Price laugh. You opened your eyes wide, a look of confusion on your face. 

"He's already gone. He got in his Jeep and is hunting you down." 

You saw Peter visibly pale. 

"He doesn't even know who you really are. You hurt his friend. You stole his bunny. You're already fucking dead." 

Peter grabbed the phone in a fury, opening his window and throwing it out. You gasped out loud. 

"Hey!" You scolded. 

"Don't try me!" He threatened again. 

You were getting dangerously close to the exit. You couldn't let him bring you out of base. You couldn't.  The idea of jumping out of the car finally settled in your mind when a glimpse of a vehicle to the left made your head turn. You had very little time to process what was happening when the impact made your seatbelt block. A military car had driven right into the car you were in at full speed, aiming for the driver's seat. 

Both cars were now at a stop, your head ringing. You were hyperventilating, now watching Gaz and Konig stepping out of the car and aiming their guns at Peter. He immediately made the car roar, trying to drive away when a second impact made you shake again. You yelled this time. Peter's car was stuck in between two big ones. You had to get out now, you had to make a run for it. 

Your blood ran cold when you saw Peter reach for his own gun. No nononoo.. FUCK. 

"GET THE FUCK OUT OF THE CAR!" Soap's voice roared. 

Soap… fuck. They were here. They were here. 

You pushed the seatbelt, finally freeing yourself and opening the car door. 

"DON'T YOU FUCKING DARE BITCH!" Peter Screamed. 

Konig appeared in a flash, grabbing Peter's shirt through the window, taking his attention from you. In another flash a black shadow passed over the hood of the car pushing Konig away and throwing the driver's side door open. 

"Simon!" You let out in between a yelp and a whine. 

He wasn't listening. He had a knife in his hand. He cut through the seatbelt like butter. He grabbed Peter's gun, throwing it somewhere on the ground. He very roughly pulled Peter out. 

You were frozen in place. Your mind was trying to process what was happening. Everything was happening so fast… Your car door opened, making you jump. 

"Y/N!" 

You cried. You let out a broken exhale and you cried. 

"Johnny…" 

"You're ok! You're ok! We're here!" He smiled, wrapping his arm around your waist to pull you out. 

You wrapped your arms around his neck. He was ok. He was fine. God, you felt so guilty. He got hurt because of you. If he had been killed-

"I'm ok! I'm ok… breathe. We need to get you out of here!" He soothed. 

"It's darkends!" You let out loud in between cries. 

He froze. He immediately turned to the rest of the team, catching Gaz's eyes as he wasn't too far. 

"HE'S THE HACKER!" Gaz repeated in a yell.

You looked at Ghost who had Peter pinned against the car, arms behind his back. As soon as it clicked in his brain, he threw Peter to the ground and jumped on him. Your eyes widened. 

You pushed by Soap, surprising him enough to give you a chance to run around the car to keep the fighting men into view. 

"Y/N NO!" You heard him reprimand.

You froze at the sight, Ghost was on top of Peter repeatedly punching him in the face, blood coating his hand. 

Soap caught you as Ghost reached for his firearm, pointing it at Peter's head. It took a second. No hesitation.

"DON'T LOO-" 

The gunshot made you jump. Soap's voice lost in the sound. Your ears ringing. 

It's funny how your brain fixates on the little things during shocking moments. For you it was the little splashes of blood on his mask. You could see them as Simon noticed you, wide eyed. 

That's all you could take in before Soap made you forcefully turn around. 

"BLOODY HELL Y/N" he screamed worriedly.

You tried to catch your breath. More cars came rushing. You could hear Price and Laswell's voices. It was over. He was gone. Darkends… Peter. He was dead. Your were safe. You were shocked. And what terrified you wasn't the fact that Simon just executed him in front of you. He clearly didn't mean to show you such a horrible thing. You knew it. He had tried to shield you from the sight by pushing Peter to the ground. No. What terrified you was how grateful you were that he did it. That he killed him. 

The thought was horrible. But Peter was dead. And you were glad he was. Because that man, who helped human traffickers, drug dealers and other horrible people, had used people to get to you, had tried to kill you and kidnapped you. 

"Hey hey hey!" 

You blinked, finally falling back into reality. Kate was looking at you, features torn in worry. Her hands on your cheeks. You took a deep breath. 

"Are you alright?!" 

You nodded. 

"I… I'm fine. It's… over" you stumbled over your words. 

She held you, her arms now wrapping around your shoulders. Price was behind her, talking to Soap. You could clearly understand Soap explaining how you had witnessed Ghost kill Peter. The shock in Ghost's eyes flashed in your mind. No! Fuck! 

You couldn't be sure but he was probably feeling horrible having done that in front of you. He probably thought you hated him, that you thought horribly of him. 

You pushed Kate off of you. 

"Simon…" you called. 

"Y/N-" she tried.

"I want Simon!" Your voice broke as another cry escaped your lips. 

You needed him. You fucking needed him. You wanted him to hold you. And never fucking let you go. You felt vulnerable. The whole situation, the whole fallback of emotions made you want to be wrapped into his arms.

"Y/N." Price approached. "Not now. You need to leave this place." 

You were going to interrupt him. But he kept trying to reason you. 

"He needs to calm down-" 

"No!" You screamed, you've never heard this desperation in your voice before.

Soap looked divided. But as he looked at you, the way you were begging him through your gaze, he made up his mind. 

"LT!" He called. 

Price and Laswell turned to him furious. 

Your breath quickened. You weren't leaving without him. Fuck. You'd leave with him.

Price turned back to face you this time looking behind you. 

"Simon-" he started. 

But too late you had already turned around. Fucking hell. He looked absolutely nightmarish. His full black tactical clothes, his skull mask bloodied. His black hood casting a shadow on it. Even like that you could see pupils blown out. 

You must be insane. You must have gone completely mad. Because all you could see was his eyes. All you could notice was how hard he was breathing, how his shoulders were incredibly tense. 

Yes. Everyone must have thought you had gone completely insane. Because you ran to him, wrapping your arms around his waist burying your face in his chest. It took him a second before wrapping his arms around you. 

"I'm sorry… I'm so sorry… fuck… I'm sorry…" he chanted repeatedly. 

He held you tightly. You could hear Laswell and Price barking orders. But you blocked it out. You needed this. You needed to be in his arms. He saved you again. He rushed to come to you. 

"I'm sorry…" he let out again. 

"Simon" 

He stopped, looking at you directly, awaiting orders. As if your every word was a command. 

"Take me away…Please... Take me out of here…" You asked. 

He didn't hesitate. He held your hand, pulling you with him towards Price. 

"Price!" He roared, capturing the man's attention. "I'm taking her out of here!" 

He nodded, throwing him his keys. 

"Take her to the hideout!" Price ordered. 

You would have preferred to go home but your home had been trashed… it wasn't the best idea.

He held your hand as he pulled you to the passenger seat, making sure to block your view of the mess behind him. 

"Close your eyes…" he ordered softly. 

"But-"

"Please. Fuck. Bunny, please." He pleaded. 

So you did. You closed your eyes. You heard the car door open. You trusted him as led you in, sitting you and buckling you up. You kept your eyes closed as he closed the door and until his opened. Even then and until you were rolling away, you kept them closed. 

"You can open them now…" he softly let out. 

You batted your eyes, adjusting back to the light. You turned to him. His grip on the steering wheel was rough. 

"Simon…" you called. 

He flinched but didn't look at you. He was clearly speeding. Very clearly. 

"Simon!" You whined. 

"We're almost there. Please." 

You took a deep breath, Falling silent. 

"You did good…" 

You almost thought you imagined it. 

"I.. did?" You asked. 

"Yes. You did so good. Sending me your location. Being brave. You did good." 

The praise was oddly comforting. 

You had managed to arrive at the hideout in a crazy time frame. You both walked out. You were slightly calmer even if your heart still played drums in your chest. You walked to the front door, two soldiers standing in front of it. You walked in, Ghost behind you. The door closed, leaving you both finally alone to face the inevitable. 

After several seconds he spoke. 

"I'll tell the men to keep guard. Laswell should be joining you soon." 

You looked, appalled, as he turned to leave. 

"You're leaving?" 

For the second time, you didn't recognize the heartbroken tone in your own voice. He was running away. He didn't want to face you.

He looked at you immediately, worry in his eyes. 

"You… Want me to stay?" He asked in dismay. 

"Yes.. please… you're the only one I want to stay with…" you admitted. 

He looked completely lost. You wanted to make him understand how badly he mattered to you. That you found a peace in his violence that was insane. Unreal.

"I. Just executed someone, in front of you." He started, fully turning to you. "I will never fucking forgive myself for it" 

"You don't have to! I ran to you! You tried to hide it!" You knew where this was going. You could feel it. 

"You should have been taken away right away! I should have ordered Soap to do it! You didn't deserve it- " 

"I RAN TO YOU! " You cried out. Your poor throat reminding you that it was a terrible idea. 

You were both out of breath. He was slipping away from you… he was slipping through your fingers every second that passed he was pulling himself away from your embrace. He was trying to break everything, trying to save you from himself. He didn't seem to understand that you needed to drown in him.

"Don't…" you desperately asked. 

"Don't what…" he asked in a hopeless tone. 

"Don't do that to me… Simon please…" you wanted to cry. You wanted him to feel how helpless you were feeling. How much you loved him. How much you needed him. 

"Don't walk away from me…" your tear stained face begged. 

He closed his eyes. 

"I'm a fucking monster." 

"No. You're Simon!" You stepped closer to him as he opened his eyes. 

"You're lieutenant Simon Ghost Riley!!" You captured his clothed face in your hands. 

"You're my Simon ghost Riley…" you whispered. "Please… tell me you're not giving up on me… please… tell me I'm yours too…" 

He wrapped his arms around you, pulling you incredibly close. 

"Are you not scared of me?" He asked in a breath. 

"No…" you answered. 

"Don't you hate me? Despise me?" 

"Never.." 

"You're fucking crazy." He concluded. 

You giggled bittersweetly. 

"You make me crazy…" 

"I am a monster." 

"Simon-" 

"I am. You should find better. You would be happier…" 

"I want my monster. I want all of him, I only feel safe and important with him…" 

He choked on a breath. 

"You wanted an answer." He started. 

You frowned a bit in confusion. 

"You wanted me to make up my mind. To tell you." He explained. 

You finally understood. Yes. You had asked him. You held your breath. 

"I want you in my life. Fuck you're all I want in my life. Tell me you want to be mine… I swear I'll never fucking leave you… I'll be as loyal as a dog, I swear I'll do everything to make you happy." He pleaded in a dark tone that contrasted heavily with the vow he was preaching. 

"Simon." You called making him look at you in the eyes. "I'm already yours." 

His hand left your waist to lift his mask up to his nose. Your breath hitched, time slowing when his lips fell on yours. You felt dizzy. His lips against yours in a desperate kiss to ground you both to each other. His soft tongue pleading access to more, that you willingly admitted, your own craving of more, of him, burning through you. The world disappeared. You had read this many times in books. You had never thought you would ever get to a point where you finally understood it. 

He groaned against you, you wrapped your hands around his neck. He lifted you up, sitting you on the table. You spread your legs, trapping him in between and pulling him closer. You were addicted. Absolutely lost. He kissed you like you were the only reason he'd ever inhale and exhale again. Desperately. His taste on your tongue was something you wanted to imprint in your mind forever.

You almost pitied the fact that you had to breathe when you separated to catch your breaths. He remained there. His forehead touching yours. You remained eyes closed. 

The atmosphere had entirely changed. It was as if you weren't being kidnapped thirty minutes ago. 

"Simon… don't leave…" you begged in a murmur. 

"Never." 

The night had fallen very quickly. Laswell had indeed passed by. She was relieved you were fine. She also fully understood that you needed time and decided to leave you two alone for a few days. The day had been terribly long. Horribly. You and Simon didn't let go of each other for hours, even dining with you sitting on his lap. Poor man hadn't even changed when it was finally time to go to bed. 

"Hey… bunny…" he called softly. 

You shook your head, knowing what he wanted to say. 

"Bunny come on… I need to change… you're gonna get dirty." 

"Don't care…" 

He chuckled. He sounded relieved. 

"Y/N, I promise .. I hop in the shower and I come to bed with you if you want. It'll take five minutes, I swear." He tried to convince you. 

You didn't want to let him go. But you understood he probably wanted to wash away all reminders of what happened. You nodded against his neck. He walked to the bed and softly dropped you. He grabbed Reaper from the ground. 

"Here doll, your plushie."

"Reaper…" you corrected him. 

He chuckled. Taking out his gloves, he let one of his thumbs run over your cheeks, brushing your hair away.

"I'll be right back." 

He was already ripping off his tactical gear as he walked out. You had time to catch a glimpse of his back, various bruises and scars, more or less recent painted it. It made you want to follow him and kiss every single one of them. Maybe it was too much… everything that was happening was confusing but fuck at the moment you couldn't care less. 

He had kept his promise, around 5 minutes after, he was back in the room, a towel around his midsection. 

Your breath caught in your throat. 

You sat in the bed. He was wearing a new balaclava. 

"Simon…" you called. 

You watched the bruises and cuts on his chest with a worried look. He stepped closer to you, grabbing your chin in one hand softly. 

"Hey. Eyes up." 

You obeyed.

"It's nothing. It's just a scratch. Alright?" 

You whined. 

"Shu-huhu…" he soothed. 

Fuck… your mind was a fucking blurr. You weren't drunk this time. But the adoration, the heart eyes were back. 

"It's nothing, little one…" 

You closed your eyes, leaning into his touch. 

"Fuck…" he cursed under his breath.

You opened them back slowly. 

"Turn around love, let me just grab some pants." 

You blushed, nodding. You turned around facing the wall. You heard him open his bag that he had brought into your room earlier. A few seconds later you felt the bed dent. You glanced back as he slipped under the covers with you. His arms immediately wrapped around you, pulling you to his chest. 

You both sighed at the same time. 

"Simon…" you called. 

"Yes bunny…" 

"Thank you for coming to save me…" you let out in a whisper.

"Darling… I will always come for you." He whispered in your ear. 

"I'm so glad it's over" 

"I'm glad too…" 

You smiled. 

"Let's sleep, little bunny… It's late." 

You whined a bit. 

"I'm right here. I'm not going anywhere. " 

You closed your eyes at that. The warmth and the comfort of his arms and body pulled you  to sleep. 

The two next days felt out of reality. Laswell didn't contact you and the rest of the squad didn't pass by. It was only the two of you. And you couldn't let go of each other. Especially Simon. You didn't fully understand what was happening. You honestly didn't care. A silent agreement stood between you two that nothing mattered. No questions on the relation, no questions on behavior, nothing. 

You just basked in each other's presence. 

That night, you tried to get up to go to the bathroom. After close negotiations he had unwrapped his arms from you. You went to the bathroom, glanced at his dirty gear on the ground, and tried to put it in the washing machine. Tried. Because he had already crawled out of bed to find you.

"What are you doing?" He asked.

"I'm just putting this in the washer for-" 

"Forget about that…" 

He picked you up bridal style. 

"S-simon…" you blushed. 

"Fuck that. Come back to bed." 

And you did. Not getting out of bed before 11 am the next day. 

You had shared brunch. He stood behind you, hands over your stomach and face in your neck while you washed the dishes in his shirt. Then he pulled you to him making you follow him on the couch where you both laid down, a blanket over you, some tv show on screen. 

When you went back to bed that night, you made the mistake of stepping inside your bedroom without him. 

"Where are you going?" He asked. 

"Oh.. hum… I thought you might want to rest without having me annoying you…" 

He had stepped closer to you, incredibly close. 

"One more night… please…" he whispered. 

"Anything…" you whispered back, gladly pulling him after you. 

It calmed down for a bit the next day. You were able to walk around the house without having Simon attached to you or running to pick you up to immobilize you against him. Though none of this bothered you, you tried to focus a bit on what happened. You also tried to buy a new phone. Even like that, he made you sit on the couch in between his legs, with your laptop on your lap. 

He was watching TV, fingertips drawing circles on your naked thighs. You had first cursed yourself for wearing PJ shorts, and then had lost all track of your search for a new device, leaning back against him. 

On the third day, things seemed to fall back into your old ways. Playful, kind, sweet. Again a silent contract linked you both, as if the two last days were yours to keep. It was a moment needed for the both of you, after a painful time. You still put off a serious conversation about your new relationship to a later time. 

The boys were finally allowed to pass by. Soap and Gaz had immediately hugged you. 

"Little Sparrow!" Soap cheered. 

You hugged them back. 

Konig was also here and even though you didn't know him well, you couldn't stop yourself from hugging him. He saved you too. 

"Thank you konig." 

He had rubbed the back of his head, giggling. 

Price had held you in his arms for a little while before planting a kiss in your hair and stepping back. 

You all sat in the small living room space. Simon was still very possessive and made you sit in his lap on the ground, hands wrapped tightly around your waist. 

"Thank you everyone. For keeping me safe and saving me. And… I'm so sorry johnny…" 

"No no! Don't worry. I've gone through much worse. I'm the one who should be apologizing. I fucked up…" 

You shook your head. 

"No… we were all under pressure… no one suspected him." 

"I did." Interrupted Simon. 

You smiled. 

"Yeah… you did…" 

You could see the boys looking at each other, obviously a question on their mind. The burning question. Soap felt the bravest.

"Soo… what's this?" Soap asked changing subject and pointing repeatedly in between the both of you. 

You blushed heavily. Soap's grin growing. 

"She's my girlfriend." 

You were? Fuck. 

"Am I?" You asked, looking at him. "You never asked" You teased. 

"I asked you to be mine. You said you were. So, mine." He stated without a worry in the world. 

The boys laughed and you nestled closer to him. You spent the rest of the day hanging out together, finally at peace. 

In the next few days you met with Laswell. A few things had to be resolved. Your room needed a makeover. You wanted darkends's devices to gather information. 

"We'll keep his devices but you can't have them now. You need some time away from all of this." 

You had rolled your eyes but deep down you agreed. This had been a close call. Way too close. She had told you she would keep you informed about the apartment so for now you remained in the hideout with Simon. The boys passing by very often. 

You had been very happily shopping, the military giving you a huge amount of money as reparation for almost being killed in their care. You had bought new components for a brand new PC, a new phone, clothes and other things. One thing that you seemed to absolutely love doing was asking Simon's opinion on everything. 

"Simon, do you like this shirt?" 

"You'll look adorable in it." He kissed your forehead. 

You even used this new hobby to tease him. 

"What do you think of this skirt?" You smiled innocently. 

It had entirely backfired. 

"If you promise to wear no panties with it, it'll become my favorite piece of clothing." He growled.

You had blushed and thrown him a pillow. 

Some moments of serious talk had also been present. 

"You know I'm doing something dangerous… it could put you in danger… Are you sure you want to be with me?" He asked. 

"Simon I don't need to date you to be in danger. I'm the one who keeps getting attacked and almost killed, you're the one who should be having second thoughts!" 

The Best moments were the ones where He would steal kisses from you whenever he could. He'd stare at you from afar, making blush. He'd always stare into your eyes, asking for permission to kiss you. As if you needed to ever say it out loud to him.  Sometimes it would heat up very fast, but he would always stop. Much to both of your frustrations. 

But you did have this conversation. He had wanted to, and asked to take things slowly. He wanted you to be sure of things before heading to more. 

You had wanted to go spend some money at the shopping center, asking him to come with you. He had politely declined, offering to call Soap, Konig and Gaz to go with you. Shopping wasn't particularly his favorite thing to do. He sat on the couch, legs spread, a file in hand, looking down at you. The sight was particularly comical yet extremely exciting. You had dropped to your knees in between his to get his attention, he had immediately tensed. He looked at you like he wanted to devour you. You kept asking for him to come with you, he'd decline, his voice deepening more and more each time. 

"Y/N. Get up." He ordered. 

"Please… Simon come with me shopping…" you whined again, biting your lip. 

It was obvious. So obvious. But he played through, adoring the sight before him. 

It had been interrupted by Price and Soap walking in. You remained on the floor, now turning your head to Soap. 

"Soap! Ghost won't come with me…" 

"Try taking his pants off, it's easier to cu-" 

You had blushed heavily. Price tried his best not to laugh. You had never seen a man run so fast in his life. You had gotten up, after ghost had gotten up as well , walking out the door behind Soap. Price had finally laughed, you were heavily embarrassed but you had won, thanks to Soap. 

Today Simon was particularly quiet. He walked around, stealing kisses and touches every now and then. You were writing on your laptop, some things about darkends needed to be reported for the full file. Laswell had told you it wasn't urgent, but you wanted to finish it. You were also getting annoyed. The tiny place was starting to get on your nerves. You wanted to go back home. 

It was an antagonizing thought as you also were uncomfortable going back in that space. It felt different. Peter had been there. You had opened your door to him and he had broken in and trashed your stuff. You had talked about it with Simon, about your anxiousness. He had understood and tried to comfort you. 

So here you were, sitting in the small, now crowded space with everyone. Laswell, price and squad 141 including Konig. 

"Sparrow, ghost told me about your thoughts on your apartment." 

You sighed. Of course he did. You looked at him as he looked at you with a soft expression. 

"So we came up with something and I'd like to ask you if you'd be alright with it." 

You were now visibly curious. Price took the lead after Laswell. 

"Until we can find a new and better way to keep you safe, we thought about moving you closer to the base. Some place you'd feel safer." 

"What are you saying?" You asked. 

"There's a house in a residential area, very close to the base that's free. It's a family house so it's quite big." Laswell explained. 

"And we're all moving in with you guys!" Soap cheered, interrupting her, Gaz nodding. 

"It's temporary, it doesn't have to be permanent. It's an option, after everything that happened." Price added.

You looked at Ghost with a smile on your face, brows rising. 

"You accepted this?" You asked, a hint of a laugh in your voice. 

"It's safer if we're all there. I can't always be with you… and maybe you'll feel better in a new environment." He explained. 

You had mixed feelings. It sounded fun. But you'd have less privacy with Simon. You had started to accept them as a family. And after everything that happened it was perhaps best. 

"Alright… let's do that." 

#simon riley x y/n #simon riley x reader #simon ghost riley smut #simon ghost riley #simon riley #simon riley smut #cod modern warfare #price cod #gaz cod #cod mw2 #ghost cod #kyle gaz garrick #konig cod #captain price #john price #soap mw2 #john soap mactavish #fanfics #fanfiction #fanfic

[thesunloveschips]

Eye of the Storm - Chapter 12: Dinner

Summary: Nyra is one of the older Archeron sisters. Twin to Nesta. Plagued by a mysterious illness that her mortal body cannot endure for too long. And yet, it seems her curse is to see her family suffer. When the youngest of her sisters is whisked away into the land of fae, immortality soon follows for the rest of them. And as an immortal, there is more to her that she has yet to know. 

Chapter Summary: Dearest gentle reader, welcome to another chapter of Nyra exists and Azriel is obsessed because who wouldn't want a morally grey, shadow-wielding, winged male obsessing over them?

Warnings: Azriel's wrath. It's mad. He's the Spymaster for a reason. Hints of lust here and there because he's obsessed with his mate.

Click here to access the Masterlist of the Eye of the Storm

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Azriel's POV

"You're a real piece of work." Amren said, examining Nesta like a cat with her silver eyes.

"Why do your eyes glow?" Nesta asked coolly. Nyra looked at Amren's eyes, noticing the glow for the first time. She tilted her head, an action that indicated her confusion. Azriel felt a semblance of peace at how adorable Nyra looked like that. Like a curious innocent female he wanted to corrupt so badly.

"Don't you already know why?" Amren looked at Nesta and then at Nyra.

"Decorative purposes?" Nyra asked, knowing completely well that was not the case. Azriel felt mischief rise within her. She was starting to forget all the guilt and grief in relation to Feyre. Amren shot her a glare and Nyra raised her eyebrows, her chin dipping just a bit, inviting challenge.

"We are the same." Amren announced. The twins blinked and sat straight. "Not in flesh, not in the thing that prowls beneath our skin and bones..." Her eyes narrowed. "But... I see the kernel. The two of you did not fit—the mold that they shoved you into. The path you were born upon and forced to walk. You tried, and yet you did not, could not fit. And then the path changed. I know what it is to be that way. I remember it, long ago as it was."

"You're that old?" Nyra asked. Azriel couldn’t help but be in awe at the way her moods changed. From a bloody fucking panic attack not an hour ago, she’d hopped on to confusion and then a whole load of guilt and in between all of it, she’d flirted with Mor, started a weird sort of banter with Amren and he could not even understand her enough to predict what she’d feel the next moment. 

And this was… refreshing. 

A storm of emotions and how she carried all of them so openly. 

Nyra’s concern for Feyre after they met after the latter was Made. Scolding her sisters for going for each other’s throats during dinner. Laughing at the entirely wrong time when Nesta ignored Cassian and trying to cover it up with a cough. Her knowledge of the political situation in her part of the world. And the humour—fucking brilliant sense of humour. Flirtatious on occasion. Serious too. And she owned every last one of her feelings with such grace. 

Those newborns… they were born because of her. Because of how fascinated he’d been by her as their first meeting progressed.  

He remembered what he told her back then before leaving after Rhys had caught the Attor. “If fate wills it, we shall meet again.” The memory of him kissing her hand had the shadows around him fluttering. 

"Speak carefully, girl." Azriel returned to the real world when Amren delivered a warning. She took a sip from her goblet filled with blood and licked her red lips, her eyes narrowing into glare as a warning for Nyra. 

"A manner of speech unlike anyone else here despite the age gap of five centuries between us and them. Are you perhaps older?" Clearly, Nyra Archeron found it far too amusing to notice or if she did, she did not heed it but Azriel could feel the power rising to the surface. That feeling charged him from within.

"I am ancient." Amren watched like a predator ready to pounce. Nyra simply hummed. The petite female frowned.

"Older than ancient ruins?" Nyra felt the power within her rising. Allowing her to see so much about this seemingly delicate female.

Amren's silver orbs remained on Nyra. And Azriel's hand was already ready to unsheath the Truth-Teller. 

The ancient one smirked and raised her glass towards Nyra. "When you strike, girl, cleave through providence." She turned to Nesta. "And when you erupt, make sure it's felt across worlds." And she emptied the goblet, the blood staining her lips as she continued to smirk. "And keep off your silly dagger, shadowsinger."

Azriel continued to remain wary even as all eyes turned to him. His shadows danced wildly around him. Watching. Waiting for anyone to breathe wrongly. Mistress went into the shadows. Azriel froze immediately. He commanded more information. She was upset earlier. We went to her and took her with us. Her twin found her. He looked at Nyra in shock and slight fear. The shadows had claimed her. They had already started claiming her, even when she was mortal and now, they'd cemented it. She was crying. They sounded upset. 

For now, there were a few mysteries.

The shadows had only ever used words and phrases with him but now, they were using proper sentences.

The shadows never did anything without his instructions. Until Nyra. The little shits were always touching her. And now, they had taken her to the realm of shadows on their own accord.

How did Nesta find Nyra when she was in the shadows? Did it have anything to do with them being twins?

As he contemplated these new developments, Azriel watched the twins. Nesta Archeron had piqued his interest. He knew from Nuala and Cerridwen that twins shared a certain bond that siblings with age gaps did not. It had something to do with an exclusive connection forming between them during their time in the womb. And it was another matter that the Archeron twins were thrown into the Cauldron at the same time. Was there something more because of that?

Azriel figured the best way to distract himself tonight would be with the varieties of delicacies served for dinner tonight. He looked around, trying to identify which ones he'd prefer. The shadows kept telling him about the twins and how Feyre served the first dish to Nyra and from then on, the twins served their own food and passed the dishes around. Lucien Vanserra is nervous. Azriel looked at him to see the male looking at his food and looking around. He had been unconsciously placed at the head of the table with Nesta and Amren by his side.

"You get used to it—the informality." Feyre addressed Lucien.

"You say that, Feyre darling, like it's a bad thing." Rhysand served himself some trout before passing it to Feyre. She served herself before looking at Nyra questioningly. Nyra shook her head, took the dish and passed it to Nesta. Azriel observed her hesitation. She does not like trout.

"It took me by surprise that first dinner we all had, just so you know." Feyre's comment had Cassian snickering.

"Oh, I know." Rhys grinned.

"Honestly, Azriel is the only polite one." Cassian and Mor cried in outrage as Feyre said that but Azriel smiled a little and took a dish from Mor. "Don't even try to pretend that it's not true." A small ball of delight hit the shadowsinger in the chest when he saw that Nyra had taken the delicacy he had just served himself. Chicken roast. She might like it. He certainly did and now he'd wait for her verdict.

"Of course, it's true." Mor sighed. "But you needn't make us sound like heathens."

Azriel watched Nyra pick up her fork and play with the food for a few seconds before she took a bite. Her eyes widened a little and she took her next bite, thoroughly pleased by the taste. Azriel made another mental note. She likes roast chicken.

And that was enough information for the shadows to have another celebratory dance. The older shadows around him loved her but they could control themselves. In a sense, they were mature. Clearly not mature enough to go through one dinner without complimenting her, but at least they weren't singing and dancing like the younger ones wrapped quite literally around her fingers. They were small, their touch featherlight and they had already ascended to her wrists and above to give her space to handle cutlery.

“Do you like chicken?” Mor asked, a smile on her face. Nyra slowly nodded. “Then you should try it with this.” She passed a bottle of sauce but Nyra simply stared at it and looked back at Mor. What if she turned her gaze and looked at him? After all, he was sitting right next to Mor. And he fought a smile. A very difficult battle but he won.

Just as Nyra extended her hand to take the bottle of sauce, the younger shadows around her wrist darted forward to take it from Mor’s hand, taking care not to make contact with the latter’s skin. They opened it and set the bottle near Nyra’s plate. She smiled gently and whispered. “Thank you.” 

“Try it. Mor likes it and I tolerate it. It’s chili sauce. Spicy as it is, it’s quite good once you get used to it.” Rhys spoke as he looked at her. Nyra nodded and took a tentative bite and her eyes snapped to Mor who waited for the verdict. Nyra nodded with soft enthusiasm and then hummed before looking at Rhys who grinned with the raise of his glass. Azriel was observing everything. She liked it with that sauce.

The shadows near Azriel's ears were dancing with joy and subsequently, tickling his ears and irritating him. He banished them away from his ears and focused. He was the Spymaster. Surely he could spy on one female sitting across from him during dinner without his shadows.

“Thank you.” She addressed Mor once she had chewed and swallowed the piece in her mouth and then turned to Rhys and nodded at him. The High Lord lifted his spoon in acknowledgement and ate his peas.  

“So, what are your favourite foods?” Mor eagerly began. 

Nyra was silent for a while before she replied. Chocolate, Azriel noted. "My diet was regulated owing to my illness."

"You have no illnesses now." Amren spoke up. "Take complete advantage of that." Azriel hoped Nyra would enjoy the world and all that it had to offer now that she was no longer ill and had a long, immortal life ahead of her. Explore places. Eat foods from all over the world. Meeting new people, not in a romantic capacity else he'd accidentally slice their necks. Enjoy the weather—the sun, the rain, the snow. Everything she wanted, he'd lay down at her feet.

Nyra hummed thoughtfully, cutting through a particularly large piece of broccoli and asked. “Do you eat flesh too?”

The ancient one smirked. “What makes you think that?” 

“Bloodthirsty people being flesh eaters does not sound too odd.” Rhys spat his wine. Mor and Cassian laughed and Azriel smirked, the back of his hand pressed to his mouth to restrain the laughter. Nyra and Nesta were the only ones who did not laugh—the former looking amused while the latter looked grumpy. Why was Nesta so grumpy?

“Troublesome female.” Amren spoke after the laughter had died down, a wicked smirk on her face as she imagined something that nobody was too eager to know. Nyra did not reply and resumed her meal. The chicken and potatoes and the broccoli, she decided, were too delicious to be ignored in favour of a bloodthirsty midget. "No, I don't." Amren's voice had Nyra looking at her again. "I don't eat flesh." 

Dinner progressed with Nesta telling Feyre about how she understood the difference between the food in Prythian and in the mortal lands. It was when Feyre brought up training with Cassian that Nyra paid attention. "What time are we back in the training ring tomorrow?"

"I'd say dawn but since I'm feeling rather grateful that you're back in one piece, I'll let you sleep in. Let's meet at seven."

"I'd hardly call that sleeping in." Feyre muttered.

"For an Illyrian, it is." Mor sighed again. Azriel was already starting to get irritated at the banter between Cassian and Mor and at his stupidity for situating himself between them. His peaceful observation was being interrupted by these loudmouths. His shadows were also joining that group anyway.

"Daylight is a precious resource." Cassian's wings rustled as he took mock offence.

"We live in the Night Court." Mor countered.

Cassian grimaced and turned to his brothers. "I told you that the moment we started letting females into our group, they'd be nothing but trouble." Azriel did not bother paying him any mind.

Rhys raised an eyebrow. "As far as I can recall, Cassian, you actually said you needed a reprieve from staring at our ugly faces, and that some ladies would add some much-needed prettiness for you to look at all day. And now, we have more pretty ladies with us." Rhysand threw a welcoming smile at the twins who were suddenly overwhelmed at the sudden ball of attention thrown towards them but they did acknowledge him with a nod of their heads.

"I was a young Illyrian and didn't know better." The movement of Azriel's shadows caught his attention and Cassian pointed a fork at his brother. "Don't try to blend into the shadows. You said the same thing." Azriel sighed, annoyed at Cassian for not shutting up and letting him watch Nyra in peace.

"He did not." Mor objected. "Azriel has never once said anything that awful. Only you, Cassian. Only you." Cassian stuck out his tongue. Mor mimicked his action. Azriel, who sat between them, now regretted his choice of seat. He should have chosen the seat on Mor's other side. He would have had an easier time observing Nyra without the two chatterboxes of the millennia breathing down his neck.

"You'd be wise to leave both of them at home for the meeting with the others, Rhysand. They'll cause nothing but trouble." Amren's words surprised Lucien. Nyra focused on her food while conversation progressed regarding the High Lords' Meet but then the mention of a Court of Nightmares seemed to have caught her attention.

"What is the Court of Nightmares?" Nyra asked Rhysand but it was Lucien who answered.

"The place where the rest of the world believes the majority of the Night Court to be. The seat of his power. Or it was." Nyra looked at the red-haired male.

Azriel was beginning to feel even more irritated. This Autumn-born was an unwelcome guest in their Court and he was already stealing her attention. Something within him stirred with rage. The thought of anyone other than him trying to do anything for her woke up all the wrath he had carefully concealed. And even when Cassian slung a seemingly friendly arm behind him, Azriel felt the strength in the warlord's grip.

Rhysand's presence waited for him outside his mind's realm. I urge you to calm down, Azriel. The Vanserra is here for his own mate, not her.

Then he should stay away from her. Azriel's response was cool but he knew that Rhysand understood his rage. He is responsible for their transformation. It was unbearably painful and traumatising for them.

Partially responsible, yes. Rhysand countered, trying to placate him but Azriel was having none of it.

The Cauldron did something to her. And her sisters. She died in there, Rhys. Very painfully. And he was complicit in how things turned out for all four of the Archeron sisters even if he has a mating bond leading to one of them. I don't understand why we are dining with him instead of taking him to the prisons. Azriel knew he had spoken more than he usually did. It was uncharacteristic of him but then again, he'd already lost his mate once and that made him immensely protective of Nyra. And the rage within him rose like the icy wind it was. Cold and unforgiving. 

Azriel knew his anger was something everyone feared, even Rhys. And this was the most powerful High Lord to ever exist. And that cold, cruel feeling continued to swirl within him like a blizzard. 

Azriel. Cassian's voice spoke. They're simply talking. 

He, who is responsible for the pain she endured, be it partially or wholly, is not worthy of her words or attention. Azriel declared his verdict. He could feel himself shaking.

His shadows were trying to calm him down by saying good things. Sweet memories of his mother. Her latest letter. How lovely his mate was. And how he had yet to tell his mother about his mate. The anticipation because his mother, the sweet female, had been waiting for him to bring home someone. Had prayed for him to meet someone who would love him. And here she was. The only female he was capable of loving. The shadows panicked and danced around him, ready to take him to the realm should he snap in front of Nyra. 

Oh, how he’d carve this Autumn-born. He’d start with that metal eye. Rip it out of him and crush it. He’d pour whiskey into the bleeding socket before pushing the crushed metal eye back into it. And Azriel would take his time. He’d cut and carve into his skin with the Truth Teller. 

Mistress is looking here. And at that, he froze. He finally noticed Nyra looking at him, doubt in her gaze. He noticed the ironclad grip on his shoulder by Cassian. Mor and Amren seemingly invested in the conversation but radiating their power subtly enough to put forward that they were ready to strike. By then, Rhys had taken over the conversation but the High Lord was ready with the night to restrain him. 

And then there was her. 

This beautiful, wonderful female. 

The way she was looking at him, ocean blue eyes wide and questioning. 

She’d guarded the heart of her youngest sister, the newest addition to his family, his sister. And now, he was ready to beg her to protect his own because he’d seen Feyre so happy whenever she talked about Nyra, was talking to Nyra, was even near her. The comfort Feyre had found in this female was something he’d started craving. He could see how Nyra sitting between her sisters was a good arrangement. Both Feyre and Nesta craved the comfort she’d offered. And in their own flawed way, they returned it. 

Was he capable of offering her comfort? Since it was for her, it could not be anything less than perfect and he was anything but. And that thought saddened him more than he expected. 

“Are you alright?” She mouthed the question, trying to ensure secrecy but everybody was focusing on their interaction except for Nesta and Feyre. Everybody pretended to be in a conversation to indulge the other Archerons at the table while she was asking him. How beautiful she’d be with his cock in that pretty mouth. Or maybe, he should make her beg. Or even scream. 

“Yes.” Azriel mouthed back. Erotic fantasies about Nyra were better than murderous fantasies about the Vanserra. Anger dissipated like the fog and she then smiled at the shadows which had tugged at her fingertips. She then looked at him with that smile and Azriel swore the moon rose in those blue eyes. 

Has she always been this impossibly enchanting? 

And what was that smile? 

Was she happy? 

If he kissed her right now, as her lips smiled at him, would he get a piece of that happiness for himself? 

Azriel stood up and nearly began leaning towards her before Cassian caught his arm and jerked it. He came to his senses and immediately knew everyone was looking at him. He spotted the first dish near her and took it, pretending that he’d needed to stand up for his hands to reach there. Just as he sat, Cassian coughed rather loudly. Of course, the bastards he had as brothers caught him. 

"It still is to everyone outside Velaris." Nyra turned to Rhys who had spoken. He nodded at her once before looking at Mor. "And yes, Keir's Darkbringer legion is considerable enough that a meeting is warranted."

"Why not just order them?" Nesta questioned, her brows narrowed. "Don't they answer to you?" At this point, the three Archerons turned their heads to Rhys simultaneously, waiting for him to answer.

Azriel watched them in surprise. The three Archeron sisters with startlingly similar features turning to look at Rhys was an incredible sight. Golden brown hair, blue eyes, fair skin glowing under the golden faelights. All of them were wearing something dark. When a lock of hair escaped their respective hairstyles and fell near their left ears as they immediately turned to face Rhys. When they placed their cutlery on their respective plates in unison. The way their hands rested on the table and they assumed the same posture as they waited for Rhysand to speak. It hit him too hard that these three were sisters, in blood and bond. No matter how fractured those bonds were.

"To think there's another one of them upstairs." Amren muttered, taking a heavy gulp of blood. It seemed the stark similarity in looks, postures and overall disposition as it seemed at the moment had caught everyone unawares.

"Unfortunately, there are protocols in place between our two sub-courts regarding this sort of thing." Cassian spoke, his back straightening when Nesta shifted her gaze from Rhys to him. "They mostly govern themselves with Mor's father—their steward." Nyra looked at the warlord sitting to Azriel's left. The shadowsinger noted how particularly different Cassian behaved around Nesta and how Nyra had noticed the same.

"The steward of Hewn City is legally entitled to refuse to aid my armies." Once again, the three sisters turned to Rhysand. "It was a part of the agreement my ancestor made with the Court of Nightmares all those thousands of years ago. They would remain within that mountain, would not challenge or disturb us beyond its borders... and would retain the right to decide not to assist in war."

"And there are no loopholes in this agreement?" Nyra asked. He could feel her thinking. He could not discern her exact thoughts but he was glad at the way her mind had been distracted from the grief and guilt she was consumed by earlier.

"None that we have identified so far." Rhys answered.

"And have they refused?" Feyre asked.

Morrigan's fumbled response brought Nyra to another realisation. And as dinner progressed, Azriel felt her as she let her grief be a forgotten thing. The conversation continued regarding the Court of Nightmares and Feyre's training with Cassian.

"Let's train at eight tomorrow. I'll meet you in the ring." Feyre spoke after the silence in the wake of their discussion on the Court of Nightmares.

"Seven thirty." Cassian countered with a grin.

"Eight." Feyre tried to. negotiate. "Care to join, you two?"

"No." Nesta's answer was final, not inviting any negotiations.

"Nyra?" Feyre tried. Nyra was in the middle of looking at the table for broccoli. She looked to her right to her youngest upon being called. 

"What exactly are you training for?" Nyra asked and then took a bite of the chicken, resuming her search.

"Combat." Cassian grinned at her. "What are you looking for?"

"Care to elaborate? I'm looking for broccoli." Cassian noted that the bowl of vegetables including the broccoli was next to Mor. He spoke to Nyra and tried to keep her attention as much as possible while Mor discreetly pushed the bowl as quietly as possible to Azriel's part of the table. The shadowsinger looked at her once and nodded.

"You'd learn to be a badass like me."

"I highly doubt anybody wants to be like you, Cassian." Mor interjected. Azriel quietly lifted the bowl and stretched his arm. Nyra extended her own arm to take the bowl from him.

Azriel always wore fingerless gloves and today was no exception. It concealed his scarred hands as much as possible but the fingers were bare in case he needed to write or handle small objects. And right now, he felt Nyra's fingers brush against his under the bowl as she took it from him. He froze and slowly withdrew his hands. Soft hands. He wanted to hold them. Feel her hands on his chest, his neck. Wanted them tugging on his hair. And he’d die if one of them ever descended and snuck inside his pants.

"Moving on from that unsolicited comment, you'd be learning to control your breathing, balance your body, work on your muscles, throw nasty punches, wield weapons. Basically, you'd be a badass at fighting like me." Cassian already sounded excited at the possibility of teaching another Archeron how to fight.

"I'm sorry, Cassian, but I cannot participate."

"Oh, come on. Don't tell me you want to stay grumpy and read all day like your twin." Cassian's gaze turned to Nesta who was doing her best at pretending that she was not the centre of his attention. Azriel did not know whether to envy his brother at being able to confidently look at Nesta even when the female seemed confused between killing him and fucking him.

"Reading is fun." Nyra frowned. "Being grumpy is not my preferred method of passing time. But I want to focus on training my magic. It is,” she lifted her left hand and looked at it. Lightning crackled between her fingertips. “Rather dangerous and I might end up hurting someone if I don’t learn how to control this.”

“I’ll help you with that.” Rhysand offered. 

“Nonsense. I’ll teach you. Both of you.” Amren declared and waited for anyone to challenge her decision. Nobody dared. Azriel wondered how this little demon would be while teaching the sisters. He’d have to monitor for the first few days at least. Cauldron knew whether the mouse-sized female would terrorise Nyra. And maybe not even the Cauldron would know how Nyra would react to that. As endearing as it was to him, Nyra’s moody self might not be appreciated everywhere. 

“Why the sudden interest, Amren?” Feyre asked teasingly.

“Your sisters, High Lady, possess powers like no other. They require training not only to wield it effectively and efficiently but also to keep themselves from harm.” Amren left it at that. 

****

"The King of Hybern." Feyre breathed deeply. And at the mention of the scum, everyone felt the power shift. The Archeron twins' eyes began glowing, albeit faintly. Nyra gripped the arms of her chair and Nesta clenched her fists. Azriel swallowed, trying to keep away the envy against the arms of the chair. To keep away the question as to why it was not his hands or arms that she was gripping so tightly. Those beautiful hands, as small as they were in comparison to his own, had quite the grip as observed by his shadows. Would she hold his arms or shoulders that tightly when he’d thrust into her? Would she scratch his back and mark him? 

"The king is trying to bring down the wall." Nyra began calming down, her curiosity taking over her rage slowly. She turned to Feyre, a silent command to continue speaking. "By using the Cauldron. There are already holes in it and he wants to expand them. I might be able to patch up these holes, but you... being made of the Cauldron itself... if the Cauldron can widen those holes, perhaps you can close them, too. With training in whatever time we have."

Nyra looked at Feyre, as if she were assessing something. "Fine. I'll do it." She turned to Amren. “Do you have anything introductory for me to read through the night or will your lessons be completely practical?” 

Amren brought her palm forward and a few books appeared. And then they vanished. “They’re in your room. Read as much as you can before tomorrow morning. We start at ten. And before you ask, it’s their responsibility to bring you lot to the city whenever you need.” 

“How do you expect her to read those overnight?” Cassian sounded outrageously shocked. 

“We will see that tomorrow.” Amren smirked at the spark in Nyra’s eyes. A challenge had been ignited. Azriel felt Nyra’s determination to win. What he did not realise was the quiet wave of encouragement he had sent across the bond. Nyra’s eyes widened at the warm feeling rising within her and before she could dwell on it any more, Feyre addressed Nesta.

"What about you?"

The sisters stared at each other impassively. "Fine." Nesta spoke in the same tone Nyra had—giving up the stubbornness.

"Good. We'll go to the Court of Nightmares with you and find objects for practice." Amren clapped her hands once.

"What?" Feyre immediately looked at the delicate female, the idea of her sisters going to the Court of Nightmares appalling to her. 

"Let the girls get a feel of something like the wall or like the Cauldron." Amren added when Azriel seemed poised to object. "Covertly."

“Is there something in the Court of Nightmares we should be worried about?” Nyra asked casually but the silence that followed was not so casual.

“The Night Court does not exactly have the best reputation.” Lucien spoke, breaking the silence. Cassian cursed and Azriel could feel his anger rise again and be a palpable thing that demanded he tear the red headed male to shreds. Nyra looked at Lucien and Azriel would have roared in anger if it weren’t for Rhysand’s presence right outside his mental shields, trying to subdue the beast that was him. 

Nevertheless, the Autumn-born continued oblivious to the bloodlust rolling off the shadowsinger. Bloodlust that was warded by Mor and Amren, Cassian physically restraining him and Rhys casting and maintaining a mental shield. 

Lucien continued. “To outsiders, this place is cold and cruel and Rhysand is a merciless High Lord. They believe it to be a structure of Hel in the land of the living and equally, if not more miserable.”

“You still haven’t answered my question.” Nyra spoke, her impatience rising. 

“This reputation stems from the way he holds court and from now on, how Rhysand and Feyre will hold court. He rules over them with an iron fist like some dark lord and it feels like a mausoleum in there. Blood and deceit coat those walls. People adorn masks to pretend like every gathering is a luxurious party when it’s just the inhabitants of Hewn City putting up a performance so that Rhys is not displeased.”

“And what happens when Rhysand is displeased?”

“The general executes. The spymaster tortures. Anything could happen.” 

And Azriel froze at what Lucien had revealed about him to Nyra. At the implications of it. How it could influence her opinion on him. On his family. He looked at Rhysand. Why did you not silence him?

She would have found out sooner or later. She will make her judgement after seeing us in the Court of Nightmares. Rhys sounded worried even after he said this. As if it was not only meant to convince Azriel but also himself. 

She deserves to be at peace. You of all people know how being strong can tire your spirits. She needs time to process this transition before she’s introduced to other horrors. Azriel all but yelled at his brother.

And I have no doubt you’d make it painful for anyone who dares to breathe wrong near her. Rhysand nodded once. We all will. The sisters won’t be harmed, not by any member of my Court or by any power in the Night Court territory so long as I’m alive. This is my promise. Azriel felt the tingling sensation of a bargain near his left waist. And even with a bargain, the shadowsinger was not in favour of this. 

Nyra could be taken to the Court of Nightmares after some time. After she had time to process all the trauma she had been recently subjected to. He seriously debated what was worse—facing horrors one after the other or facing them all at once. Nyra did note once that the former was what Nesta had gone through. He’d understood enough to know that Nesta’s mental health was in a very fragile condition.

Azriel only wanted Nyra to have enough time to process the transition before she learned about everything. He���d personally teach her as much as he could. He had no intentions of hiding or sugarcoating anything. He simply wanted her to have enough time to cope with the trauma and the stress it brought. 

Silence ensued. Feyre waited for Nesta to say something because this Archeron had been glaring at her plate for too long. To kill all hope. But she posed another question. "Why not just kill the King of Hybern before he can act?"

The shadow of death seemed to loom above them. Cassian, the Lord of Bloodshed, and Azriel, the shadowsinger, seemed to thrive off of it. Nyra and Nesta felt at ease, as though they were home. Death really seemed to be a comfort space for the four of them.

The room descended into the cold as Nesta’s eyes burned silver. The younger shadows around Nyra were trying to create a wall between the twins out of fear for their mistress’ safety. A few of his older shadows joined the endeavour. His hand went to the hilt of the Truth Teller. And with everyone on guard at how Nesta could release her mysterious power, Nyra’s hand broke through the shadowy barrier and grabbed her twin’s hand. Lightning crackled just a bit. Enough to jolt Nesta out of her trance. 

Silver bled into blue and Nyra released her hand. Nesta looked at her twin once and nodded. The twins resumed eating as though nothing had happened. As if Nesta’s presence had not suddenly made them feel like they were in a battlefield with their lives endangered. 

"If you want his killing blow, it's yours. Both of you." Amren said, her voice taking an understanding note. 

And as Nesta looked at Amren with the eyes of a predator, Nyra clenched her hands. She had already abandoned her cutlery but the way her power roared like a storm within her was becoming too much. She needed an outlet. The shadows around her wrists started tickling her hands and she was too scared of releasing her grip. Too scared of letting the power go away. And the storm was becoming uncontrollable. 

Azriel was beside her in an instant, his large hands covering her own. “Let it out.” That was all she heard. 

Thunder roared in the skies above Prythian. Lighting flashed a great many times. Nyra’s breathing became heavier. The shadows swarmed around her body and the darkness consumed them. She felt herself in an embrace, warm and strong. Nyra whimpered, her power starting to become painful. And through the bond, Azriel felt it all. And he held her through all of it. 

She released her power in that realm of shadows, enough to tire herself out. Azriel was surprised by how welcoming the shadows were. How the realm had welcomed the roar of her storms so easily. And he realised that this was not a change. It was a preexisting factor. And that the shadows were waiting for her just as much as him, if not more. The compatibility of his shadows with her lightning was showing itself. 

Her eyes glowed and her neck craned. She trembled under the weight of her own power, groaning and nearly screaming under the weight of her own power. Mistress. Lightning. Perfect. The shadows caressed her arms and hands. Azriel’s hands were on her waist and head, holding her close. 

“Nyra.” He called out when the lightning had stopped roaring. 

“Azriel?” Her voice was so small and confused, he was beginning to worry. “Where are we? Why is it so dark?”

“We are in the shadows.” He responded, worried about how she’d take that news but he couldn’t lie to her. She did not deserve to be lied to.

“I think I was here before.” Her voice was a clear indication of her tired state. She had released so much power that he clearly understood that she could take down all the High Lords and their armies easily. He could imagine the extent of her power if she were to be taught how to control it.

“Yes. The shadows told me that they brought you here earlier.”

Nyra did not say anything and he continued to hold her. 

“Are you embracing me?” Nyra asked. He could feel her hands trying to move around to analyse their surroundings only to fail because he was holding her close. 

“Yes.” His grip on her loosened and his soul faltered at the possibility of her not wanting his touch. After all, how could these desecrated hands touch her? However worthless he was, he did not want her to remain in the shadows if she was uncomfortable here. 

“Do you want me to release you? I must tell you that we do need to maintain contact to navigate back safely but we can simply hold hands.” And even when he’d used the word ‘simply’, there was nothing simple about holding her hand. How had he not already fainted? 

Nyra’s hands rose and her palms found his chest, fingers curling to grab the fabric. Azriel was suddenly afraid of breathing. Of making a single sound. He would have willed his heart to still if he could since it was beating so loud and fast. Her fingers were so gentle as they found his shirt to hold. 

“Did I hurt the shadows?” She asked softly. Azriel could hear the shadows whisper to him. How touched they were by her concern for them. “Did I hurt you?” It was a good time to fall into a ditch and stay there because Azriel severely doubted whether his knees had enough strength to stand and to not falter as he held her. 

“No, we’re fine.” He felt her shift, move just a bit to the back. If they could see each other, they would probably be looking at each other’s faces. 

“Are you sure?” She sounded determined to know if she’d hurt him or the shadows even in the slightest. And with that sweet voice of hers, she’d awakened something so wholly pure within him that he’d doubted whether that feeling would be corrupted by existing inside someone like him even if it was his own. 

Azriel had already believed that he was in heaven as he embraced her. Was it not the best thing to be able to touch her even though he was an undeserving bastard from the dirt? But he was a selfish bastard. And that selfishness demanded that he take every scrap she’d leave in her wake. Anything she’d throw at him. 

“Az?” That was the first time she’d called him by that nickname and his heart leaped to his throat at the realisation.

“Yes?” He held her because he was afraid to let go. And it felt good to take a page from her book and start acknowledging that. Not that he’d ever say it out loud but he was afraid. He’d lost his mate once and he certainly had no intentions of letting her go to some place he couldn’t follow. Or maybe, he could. He could follow her. The shadows let him travel anywhere and if she were to go to the afterlife like last time, he’d simply follow. The Truth Teller was always with him so he wouldn’t have much trouble arranging his own death. 

“I’m so tired.” She felt so much fear and pain and confusion and Azriel felt it all. He wondered whether being able to feel her through the bond helped her. If he could at least take a part of that pain for himself. 

“Go to sleep, Nyra. I’m right here.” The hand on her head began patting her. After a few moments, the hand stopped patting and began stroking her hair. Azriel pushed wave after wave of calm towards the bond and he felt her breathing slow down. And like a baby, she was asleep in his arms.

****

TAGLIST:

@waytoomanyteenagefeels @impossibelle @esposadomd @starswholistenanddreamsanswered @judig92 @bunnyredgirl @sh4nn @a-frog-with-a-laptop @kattzillaa @ronnieglennn @wallacewillow0773638 @forgiveliv @justdreamstars @donttellthecats @cat-or-kitten @jojodojo02 @wandas-dream @evylynny @weasleyreidstyles @stqrgirlies-blog @why4anne @acourtofdreamsandshadows @saltedcoffeescotch @mybestfriendmademe @macimads @footyandformula @noelli-smv @mqlfoyelf @thehighlordishere @slytherintaco @spideytingley @deeshag @footyandformula @nebarious @dream-alittlebiggerdarling @prettylittlewrites @lilah-asteria @5onedirection5 @hanitastic @sevikas-whore @krowiathemythologynerd

#a court of thorns and roses #acotar #azriel x oc #azriel x original character #acowar #azriel shadowsinger #acofas #a court of silver flames #acomaf #acosf #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel #nesta archeron #nessian #rhysand #feyre archeron #feysand #elain archeron #lucien vanserra #night court #velaris

[ladystoneboobs]

ya ever think about how the lannister sibs all have big secrets kept from each other, like huge life-altering experiences? jaime's is the most obvious, the most talked-about, with the full story of his kingslaying and everything he endured from aerys leading up to it. it's clear enough to me that brienne was the first he opened up to about that, including either sibling. they never asked, but unlike ned stark and the rest deriding him as kingslayer, their lack of curiosity is no offense in itself bc as tywin's other children they would never judge him for turning his cloak purely out of family loyalty. ned's assumption of jaime's motives is directly tied to his judgment of jaime, but it's the judgment that rankles jaime so. choosing your father's life over a king's is hardly the worst crime in itself. how can he explain all the other reasons without prompting when its not just about his crime but all his trauma too? is there any basis for that in his relationship with cersei, who always relied on him for comfort and consolation but seems less adept at providing the same to him? or even with tyrion, his only real male friend for years, but also his baby brother, the one he was meant to protect and take care of, who was only 10 at the time of the kingslaying? even to fully share all with tyrion years later, both adults, could be something of a role reversal, forever shattering tyrion's image of him as the strong invulnerable golden big brother by revealing his own broken inner child. jaime can't break out from those sibling roles and patterns, so neither can ever understand that part of him, never knowing the early life he had at court without either of them with him.

and tyrion, who trusted jaime more than anyone in the world before learning the truth about tysha, still could not confide in him freely even when all that trust was still intact. jaime must have heard some story of what tywin did to tysha to feel the need to confess his lie, but he def didn't hear it straight from tyrion bc imo there's no way he could still think confessing would help anything if he understood how scarred tyrion was by what he witnessed and esp not knowing that tywin ordered him to participate at the end. tyrion could reveal all that to bronn when they barely knew each other but not to his beloved brother, his first and best friend. how can the most abused child explain all his unknown abuse to the golden child, the big brother meant to protect him who couldn't always do so? how does he even begin to reveal the deepest trauma that happened to him when jaime wasn't in the room, esp when the story does start with jaime apparently trying to help him by fixing him up with tysha?

and then there's cersei and all her secrets. she always turned to jaime for consolation, or at least when he knew she needed it, but how many times did he not know? how personally could she confide in him as they grew older and their paths diverged? we know the first big secret was maggy the frog's prophecy, her first big scare, which came on the cusp of puberty, an experience she couldn't share with her twin bc he would prob just laugh and make a joke of it. in their first real scene together, in bran's pov, he mocks lysa's motherly fears and likens her to cersei. ("I think birthing does something to your minds. You are all mad." He laughed.) then he makes light of her marital discord, ("And whose fault is that, sweet sister?"), having no idea of the depth of pain she'd suffered from robert, beyond his infidelities. he later blames her for being robert's queen, not his, only thinking of how she managed to arrange his kg post, that power to forever tie him to her in secret, never grasping her lack of control in marriage, that "a queen is only a woman after all". in her pride it was hard to reveal all she'd suffered as a woman, but she also couldn't rely on jaime's response if he knew of her abuse, knowing he would kill robert and get himself killed too, only making her and their children's lives more precarious. she couldn't trust him to listen about securing the throne before dealing with robert or that as robert's victim it was her right to decide such matters, to choose his fate, not jaime's place to avenge her without her say-so first. all bc they were both too stuck in their idea of jaime as her sword, nothing more, with jaime determined to protect her and tyrion, always a bodyguard before he ever donned a white cloak.

something something tywin did his best to play his children off each other and the most effective thing he did to divide them was by setting jaime up as the golden child and family protector. the designated lannister sword only pointing at threats outside their house. a knight serving his family whose protection was always limited, who could never protect them from the person who first hurt cersei and tyrion and made them who they were at a distance from him, bc ofc he couldn't fight his own father, much less slay him with a sword.

something something maybe the reason that joff+marg+loras was a surer recipe for kingslayer stew than robert+cersei+jaime is all down to that tyrell lack of abusive structure. not that loras cared more about marg, was more willing to kill for her than jaime was to kill robert, but that there wasn't a chance of marg hiding her misery from him if/when her husband abused her in their shared household. it's not like he understood her to the point of mind-reading but when their previous royal marital household involved her bearding for his boyfriend then they prob had a pretty good basis of open communication. in that sense, the lannicest twins with all their sexual and physical intimacy still had less emotional intimacy than the tyrell queen and her kg brother.

#valyrianscrolls #asoiaf meta #jaime lannister #tyrion lannister #cersei lannister #tywin lannister #asoiaf #pride of lions #happy murderous meowmeow monday #who else would save him if not his brother? #golden days and silver nights #margaery tyrell #loras tyrell #some roses have steel thorns #(c)lsb #like i have seen someone wonder if jaime held it against his sibs for not asking more about the kingslaying #when tyrion was literally 10yso may as well ask why the starklings didnt ask ned abt the rebellion and lyanna's death #when your older war vet relative doesnt volunteer info you try not to pry #and we need to talk more abt all jam didnt know abt cers besides her post-robert affairs

[shadowshrike]

The Curious Case of Halsin and Astarion's Ascension

For anyone who's occasionally poked around my stuff, you probably know that I found my Evil run of Baldur's Gate 3 (by which I mean my selfish run where I tried to gain as much power, wealth, and companion trust as I could) to be my most satisfying thus far. Part of that was the unique experience of having Halsin ask to join Tav and Astarion's relationship post-Ascension.

At the time, I said yes because it made sense for my character to "collect" an Archdruid. Out of character, I was tickled by the idea that Halsin confessed after Astarion became the new biggest bad in the land. Halsin was supposed to be a Good guy. Surely, either a possessive Astarion would be spitting mad about the arrangement, or Halsin would have second thoughts about Mr. Vampire Ascendent once he got a taste. I was ready for the drama.

It never came. In fact, the glimpses of their dynamic were so comfortable and playful that I was shocked.

Since then I've been doing a lot of thinking about Halsin and why he might act how he does throughout the Ascension storyline. I realize most of this can be handwaved with 'fanservicey romance writing.' That's true for parts of all romance paths, honestly, and I don't consider it a wholly bad thing given the game's goal to make you its center. However, I think being dismissive of the writing is not as much fun as building headcanons that work with any set of behaviors or lines you get.

So enjoy some theories pulled from datamined dialogue and my personal games. As always, this is completely hypothetical - I encourage everyone to write 'canon' in their personal playthroughs however they prefer.

Note: it's impossible to get all these lines in a single run due to some hinging on Astarion leaving and some may be bugged or near impossible to trigger. They're just being used to explore a character and dynamic that I don't see much of around fan spaces.

Halsin on the value of lives

To briefly set the stage, it's important to understand how Halsin views life and justice. He spells it out rather clearly if Kagha kills Arabella and her parents are also dead.

Halsin doesn't consider himself to be an arbiter of good and evil, only a steward of nature and its Balance. He highly values life. However, it's not him, the leader of the Grove, who is ultimately responsible for deciding Kagha's fate; it's the wronged parties or, barring that, nature itself who should decide her true punishment.

Halsin: As for the idol? It's nothing compared to a life. A mere object, next to one of nature's creations. I cannot absolve you, even if you are repentant. The girl's parents should have decided your fate, but they perished. Instead, nature will judge you. You are banished from this place - banished from everywhere the Oak Father's creations thrive.

But valuing the sanctity of life doesn't mean he doesn't also understand the importance of sacrifice. For example, if Wyll chooses his freedom over his father, Halsin counsels that it's a necessity to sacrifice to grow at times, no matter how unpleasant.

Halsin: You made a hard choice, Wyll. But not one that is unknown in nature. At times, a seedling must strangle the very tree that bore it, if it is to survive.

The price of 7000

So, Halsin's not a big fan of sacrificing life, yet understands that sometimes, people need to die for others to thrive.

But what about 7000 lives? A whole village worth?

That level of sacrifice sounds an awful lot like the day his life was destroyed by Ketheric and the Shadow Curse. A horrible event that haunted his every thought and deed for the next 100 years.

Within this context, it makes sense that all of his responses during the Ascension, whether Astarion does it or not, are focused on the price being paid. He usually emphasizes the sheer number of people affected and never discusses Astarion's potential evil (more on that later) or the undead nature of those lives.

Halsin: Stay your hand, Astarion. To sacrifice so many is a tyrant's ambition.

Halsin: All those lives snuffed out, just to grasp some power. That was craven - unnatural.

Halsin: Astarion resisted the allure of Cazador's would-be powers - and I am glad of it. Whatever he would have gained would have come at a great price.

The interesting part about this is, as an Archdruid of Silvanus, those undead lives should be considered an abomination. The Oath of Ancients oath break if you free the spawn reminds us of this. So Halsin's advice to save the spawn is not necessarily druidic advice - it is a personal opinion wrapped in flimsy druidic justifications.

He even recognizes undead as unnatural when you enter Cazador's home:

Halsin: A lair of undeath - most unnatural. We must tread carefully.

Yet about the spawn, who are undead and an intimate part of that unnaturalness, he says this about releasing them:

Halsin: Good - they deserve a chance at life. Nature will handle their fates from here.

Mercy for all monsters?

This is interesting to compare to another encounter with a smaller version of an eerily similar choice in Act III. The mindflayer in the Windmill - a person turned into a monster, much like a spawn. Allow it to live, and it may devour a family. In that case, Halsin says:

Halsin: We allowed this unnatural thing to live - now a whole family's worth of blood is on our hands.

He joins a host of other Good companions who curse themselves for showing mercy where it wasn't warranted. These are largely the same companions who would also save the spawn.

Karlach: This is our fault. These people died because of us. What were we thinking?

Wyll: Justice does not entail granting mercy to monsters. We should not have let this abomination go free.

Gale: A cruel conclusion to the mercy we showed, but hardly an unpredictable one. As long as it lives, so will its appetite.

The contradictory perspective taken during these two storylines shows the importance of emotional context in how we make decisions. For most, their traveling companion, who also has a tadpole, is the first vampire spawn they've ever met, while mindflayers have generally been the big evil this entire time. This could lead them to feel as though a horde of spawn may have enough humanity to need a chance, while a newborn Mindflayer should be exterminated on sight. Also, most of the other Good companions are relatively young and idealistic, so it makes sense that some may make foolhardy, heroic decisions.

But this encounter also begs the question: if these heroes are so distraught by having the blood of one family on their hands due to a single hungry mindflayer they saved, how could they justify letting 7000 starving monsters with unquenchable bloodlust free? Are they simply kind-hearted and short-sighted? Or maybe they're only optimistic about the hunger of vampire spawn, despite having personal examples of both a spawn and a mindflayer who manage their hunger equally ethically - by feeding on enemies and criminals.

Their naivety is driven home by Jaheira not being moved by the mindflayer or the spawn due to her extensive life experience. She believes in both cases that the greater mercy is to kill the creatures now.

(About the spawn) Jaheira: And what of the living they'll feast on, should they not prove as admirable as Astarion? They deserve a chance, too.

(About mindflayer) Jaheira: Look well. Our stupidity. Our price to pay.

Halsin is even older. He's a devout druid. He recognizes undead as unnatural. By all accounts, he should be on the same page as Jaheira to preserve the Balance. Yet in the face of that, he still advises to give the spawn a chance to live free, likely wreaking havoc wherever they need to feed.

I like to think this strange blind spot in his doctrine is due to a combination of Astarion's presence humanizing the unknown spawn, therefore making their unlives worthy of protection, and his own history as a genocide survivor creating an emotional reaction strong enough to override his usual wisdom. The price of a village is simply too devastating and personal for him to condone. No matter what letting 7000 ravenous undead free may mean.

Making the price worth it

Once you've ascended Astarion, you may be surprised that Halsin - generally a good man - is now steadfastly on Astarion's side. His reactions to the Gur conflict highlight this. If you side with Astarion against them, he's not happy, but resolute.

Halsin: An unfortunate battle... but I must stand by those I count as allies.

And if you decide Astarion is evil now and side with the Gur, Halsin doesn't seem to care about what Astarion has become, only that you allowed the sacrifice to happen and then let it go to waste:

Halsin: We allowed Astarion to sacrifice so many, only to just turn on him soon after? We should have stopped him sooner.

In contrast, many other companions call Ascended Astarion a monster, evil, or maniacal if you turn on him. They believe killing him at that point was the only right answer.

Karlach: It's done. It had to be done. Astarion was... out of control. Gods dammit. Look, he was an evil leech, but he was ours. I thought he'd changed. I was wrong. I always am these days.

Minsc: Do not mourn Astarion. The Gur are known to be a just and righteous people among the Rashemaar. They named Astarion monster, and so monster he was. Yes, Boo - even if he sometimes seemed a friend.

Gale: That's one scourge eliminated. A vampire with that much power would be a death sentence for this city. A pity Astarion didn't understand that. Or rather, didn't care.

Lae'zel: Astarion proved himself no less maniacal than his master. His death was a favour - to him, to us, and to the city.

Wyll: Hunt the monsters of the Sword Coast, protect the people - that was my promise. Killing Astarion was the right thing to do. I have to believe that. But I'm not proud of it. Not after... all this.

Ignoring Astarion's evil and telling you that you shouldn't have betrayed him may seem odd for a character who usually has a strong moral compass. Especially since Halsin doesn't tell you that you shouldn't have betrayed Shadowheart if you choose that path, though he's wary of that decision since you're handing her over to Sharrans. However, if Halsin's focus is on the 7000 lives and not on Astarion's personal kindness or cruelty, it makes more sense.

The people are gone. There is no taking back all those lost. So he's left with the need to make their sacrifice something other than a meaningless slaughter. The power for his companion must be worth it.

Halsin on Evil Astarion

You may be thinking, "Okay, but even if it's all about the mass sacrifice mimicking his own horrific past, shouldn't he still care about Astarion being Evil? He doesn't like evil acts at all!"

That's mostly true. Halsin certainly hates Shar for personal reasons and can get upset when you do cruel things. However, he's also potentially had a bit of a soft spot for Astarion since Act I, when you can decide the vampire spawn is evil and kill him or kick him out of camp.

His lines for this are actually shared with Karlach, Wyll, and Jaheira, according to the data. The uniqueness is primarily in his distraught line delivery.

If you kill Astarion, Halsin admits that he liked the guy even though he was a killer:

Halsin: Rest in peace, Astarion. You may have been a blood-thirsty murderer, but I liked you all the same.

And if you send him away, Halsin says this about Astarion being alone in the woods:

Halsin: He's someone else's problem now, anyway. Woods are full of boars. Maybe he'll learn his lesson and start hunting something that won't miss him when he goes.

His camp reactions immediately after Ascension mirror this attitude of concern rather than condemnation of evil. If Halsin speaks directly to Astarion, he sounds exasperated (the way Halsin says his name always makes me snicker) while Halsin once again brings up the idea of the price being paid.

Halsin: Astarion... you have ascended amongst the ranks of the undead. I can only hope that you do not come to regret the price that you paid.

However, the almost identical line if he's talking to another player character is delivered differently, particularly in how he says Astarion's name. It's more concerned than judgmental, implying that his frustration with Astarion is coming from a place of worry rather than pure anger.

Halsin: Astarion... he has ascended amongst the ranks of the undead. I can only hope that he does not come to regret the price that he paid.

This is particularly notable because it's in contrast to Shadowheart, who has a very similar line after her evil choice, but the emotion behind both sounds more similar to my ear.

After that initial comment, Halsin can banter with Ascended Astarion about how he's turned the player into a vampire spawn if there's a player romance. Unlike most of the other companions who can comment, such as Wyll and Gale, he expresses worry for both of them, not just the player. He also explicitly explains he has no intention of kink-shaming them, just warns about how dangerous having a master/thrall relationship can be if made real.

Halsin: To give oneself wholly, and to have a lover totally in your thrall...? A harmless game, until it becomes real. I worry for the two of you, Astarion. For your sake, I hope some of it is just a fantasy, deep in your heart.

But perhaps the most blatantly accepting we see him of Ascended Astarion is if they go to the Drow twins together. There are always some playful lines with one another if they're both present, but one is unique to Ascension if the player bites Halsin as a spawn during the scene. Halsin's response is light and delighted, acknowledging Astarion's role as not just a vampire, but the lead in your new relationship.

Halsin: Ha - tickles. See what a bad influence you are, Astarion?

Combine with Halsin's direct propositioning of Astarion if Astarion teases him about his night with the player, and there's a case for long-held attraction as well, regardless of alignment.

Astarion: I hear things got wild between you two. I hope no one was too badly mauled. Halsin: We're all in one piece. Perhaps you'll join us next time. Astarion: It's bad enough having one person with fangs trying to keep control of themselves. Two of us could be dangerous.

All these lines, taken together during times when others label Astarion a monster, suggest that Halsin accepts Astarion as a whole. He doesn't believe in trying to change people's nature, so maybe he sees any distasteful deeds as part of Astarion's, the same as an owlbear cub eating its mother might disgust some though it is completely natural.

It makes sense, then, that Halsin might be proud of Astarion for choosing morality or personal growth, but he isn't too bothered if that doesn't happen either. What line Astarion would have to cross to earn Halsin's true ire is unknown. The reverse is a much more complicated question (mostly because it's plausible that many of Astarion's lines are rooted in deception) that I may delve into another time.

Is this whole relationship a little ironic given that Halsin is The Selfless Good Druid and Astarion is The Selfish Evil Undead? Absolutely. But that's the fun of it, in my opinion. It adds depth to these characters in ways that rarely shine through during a singular playthrough, especially since very few will do the crazy thing I did with an Ascended Astarion + Halsin romance.

It sure makes for narrative fun, though.

#baldur's gate 3 #bg3 #halsin #ascended astarion #halstarion #analysis

[ctrlsht]

I want to request a ff. can you make yandere CEO sugar daddy jungkook ff? if you are accepting my request then please don't make yn the typical humble sweet innocent girl who gots herself into that situation just because her dear mom or grandma is on verge of dying and she doesn't have any money so she took that path to save them. no please make her character different. Like a spoiled brat and arrogant girl who wanna have lavish life and power forever and takes advantage of the fact of having powerful handsome most sought after man on her side. kinda gold digger type but not really since she doesn't want to leave him and she actually enjoys his obsession/yandereness until it gets too much. I want to actually see kinda negative female lead than typical positive character? Doesn't really have to be negative just bitchy kinda toxic demanding clingy character etc.

Btw i loved your ffs who is in control and seat of power. I hope you keep making more yandere Jungkook ffs in future. I hope to see more of your ffs in future. You have already become one of my fav author in Tumblr 🩷

Don’t Blame Me | sugar daddy!jungkook one-shot au teaser

pairing: sd!jungkook x reader genre: one-shot & yandere au

summary: You can have everything you want and need as long as you have Jeon Jungkook by your side. You were enjoying everything that Jungkook gives you and as long as you obey him. You’re sure to yourself that you will never fail him but he was the one who failed you. Everything is fine until he gets too much. 

content  & warnings: sugar daddy & ceo jk, college reader, manipulative behavior, unhealthy behavior, possessive & obsessive jk, yandere, bitchy reader, jk sabotaging reader’s career

date of release: June 12, 2023 | evening (KST)

Preview:

“Baby.” Is the first thing he said after a long silence between the two of you.

“A-are you… Mad?” He asked in his low and soft voice like he really sounded guilty from what he just did. 

“What was that, Jungkook?” You finally spoke and annoyance is evident in your voice. 

“Baby, I’m sorry. I just want us to have our dinner because we haven’t done it for weeks already.” His voice was still low and soft just like a child that was scrolled by his mom. 

He doesn’t like it when you’re mad. It rarely happens but when you did, he felt like he did really something terrible for you to get this angry. 

“It was our due date this week, Jungkook and we’re not yet done with our paper. We still have a lot of things to do and I don’t understand why you can’t understand it.” 

He’s getting anxious with how your voice sounds. You’re so pissed and he immediately regrets the actions he just did. 

You sound like you hate him now and that you regret being with him. It’s like any minute, you would open your door and leave him alone. 

By just thinking about it makes him crazy. 

He held your hands and placed them on his lips and you can feel his hands shaking.

“Y/N baby I’m sorry! I’ll promise that I’ll be the one to finish all your works I swear. You already knew that those things are only a piece of cake for me and I can finish that in no time I promise!” He speaks so fast and you feel his anxiousness within his shaking voice and hands. 

“I acted without thinking. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.” He added as he intertwined his fingers with yours and his lips touched the back of your hand.

He’s too scared that he has to feel you right now in order to calm his nerves because when he doesn't, you might drift away from him. 

“But seriously, Jungkook. What was that?” You asked after a long silence. 

The more that you call him by his name, the more anxious he gets because you don’t call him only by his name. 

“When I read your message—

“I thought you didn’t read them?” He looked at you in your eyes and he bites his lips. 

“I lied. I’m sorry.” He admits and you become more confused with his actions. You don’t understand what’s with him. 

“Baby, I'm uneasy and I felt that something is not right and I saw your location and I saw the guy and I don’t know, I feel like my heart will explode! Babe, I can’t sit well because you’ve been declining my invites multiple times and I don’t know what’s happening and I’m overthinking things.”

Even though he talks too fast, you understand where he’s coming from. You’ve seen this before and you know the reason why this is happening.

“So you thought that I ditched you for Yuan?” You asked, trying to hide your smile. 

“Who’s Yuan?” When he asked that, you immediately cracked up.

“Baby, who’s Yuan?” He asked once again.

“The guy I’m with. Jungkook, what the heck!” You can’t take it as you laugh so hard. 

“Babe, why are you—

“You’re getting jealous of someone you forgot! Who’s not going to laugh at that?” You speak in between your laughs. 

Your laughs continued until you realized that he doesn’t find the situation funny. Your laugh slowly fades when you see how serious he is. 

“I was just kidding! Why so serious, Ggukie?” You spoke and you clung to his arm. You still find the situation funny and you tried your best not to laugh since he’s being serious.

After  a few moments, he spoke. 

“Did you really… Ditch me?” He asked in his low and soft voice and you instantly looked at him in horror while you shook your head.

“Of course not! Why would I do that?” You respond in defense. He looked at your eyes trying to see the sincerity of your words but he’s having a hard time finding it. He looked away as he looked down and you took a deep breath.

“Babe, look at me.” You caressed his face as you moved his head to look at you. His eyes glow in the dark and you love how pleading his eyes look. 

“I understand where you’re coming from but believe me when I say that whenever I decline your invites is because I really do have to finish something. Babe, you know how I value my academics and I am aiming for a latin honor. You know that right?” You brushed your thumb off his cheek and he closed his eyes to feel your touch. 

“And Yuan? He’s just a research partner and nothing else. And please, don’t be insecure because of him. He’s nothing compared to you. And I don’t like him either.” You lean forward to kiss his forehead. 

“Don’t you ever think that I would ever like him because it’s a fucking insult. I have a standard, babe and he didn’t even meet the 1% of my standard.” You spoke in a demeaning tone before you pushed your back at the backrest. 

a/n: This is the first time that I received a ff request and tbh, I was kinda nervous because I might not meet the expectation of the person who requested it. I write everything based on what the ff requester wants and hopefully, I did it right! It was hard for me to go out of my comfort zone when it comes to writing (what I mean is writing a ff that wasn’t me who plotted it) but I realized, why not try it? To the one who requested this, I hope you’ll like it! 

#jungkook au #jungkook #jungkook fanfic #jungkook x reader #jungkook x you #jungkook scenarios #jungkook yandere #yandere!jungkook #yandere jungkook #possessive yandere #possessive!jungkook #yandere bts au #bts yandere #yandere #yandere bts #bts #bts au #bts fanfic #bts x reader #sugar daddy!jungkook #don't blame me

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Vergil's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Vergil's Path

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: Fucking finally part 2 hahahaha I deeply apologize for taking so long to post Vergil's part. As some of you might have seen here, my dad suffered an accident and my life turned upside down the last few months - I'm still managing, doing damage control hahaha but slowly getting back on track with my writing.

But here is Vergil's part! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand this madness and, if you're a Dante appreciator, fret not, the red devil part is here.

I have to thank my dear friend @furyeclipse for sending me this idea as an ask a thousand years ago - and now, it is finally done! You can check Fury's work on ao3 right here, I highly recommend it!

I'm also going through a phase of powerful monsters (vampires, demons, the whole unholy pantheon) being on their knees for their human partner and, oh boy, it shows. I'm not apologizing. Oh. And the Helen of Troy/Sparta is NOT a gendered thing. It's more of being recognized as the most beautiful among mortals, enough to cause a war for their love. And yes there's a Ghost reference in there, I FINALLY got to properly listen to their music and man, why did I sleep on them for so long??

Devil May Halloween 2023 - Vergil's Path

Demonic marriages. There was a topic you had to admit you were completely ignorant about.

Vergil had mentioned it once. You did ask him when Sparda’s and Eva’s union arose as a subject in one of your researches one day – for, as far as you knew, marriages were religious and it did make you wander if demons had their own religion or only rituals.

That subject was very muddy, as per Vergil’s words. His own knowledge on the matter was very limited – and that was something new for you.

“Hmmm. A very good question indeed.” Vergil murmured as he put down his book on the table, raising his silvery eyes to you. The library was dead quiet, but his voice was always so low it wasn’t a concern – even if you both were the only living beings in that place at that hour. “You could say some demons are powerful enough to be viewed as gods, but those would be only the likes of Mundus.”

“And Sparda…?” Oh, you had to ask. After all, wasn’t Sparda the only demon strong enough to defeat Mundus? Who could ever defeat a being as powerful as a god? Only a god as well, at least in your mortal eyes.

Vergil allowed a proud smile to spread over his lips as nodded in agreement.

“Well, we do have Fortuna as an example of people worshipping demons as gods, so humans praying to demons doesn’t really surprise me. There are plenty of cults and even churches who do that.” You shrugged, organizing your books and papers, passing him a list of demonic cults you had been keeping track over the years. You weren’t one to judge, but, seeing your occupation was to slaughter demons, it was always good to keep an eye on them. “Eva and Sparda getting married made me wonder. Marriages are very religious, how did Sparda deal with that? Given his story, I don’t think it was only a civil ceremony for government benefits, right?”

“Right indeed…” Vergil once again murmured, curiously reading your list. It was a very thorough and good document, and he couldn’t stop himself to think how it was smart of you to do that. He had a list of people to keep an eye on as well now. “I’ve never really wondered about that as a child, for I didn’t know much of the world back then. We tend to accept that what we see and what it’s said to be true… But after I started researching and learning, it did spark my interest. As far as I can tell you, my father accepted my mother’s faith and married her by her rules, not the opposite. He would never do that just out of a civil agreement, he really did it for love.”

“So even with the power of gods, demons don’t have religions.”

“Again, that is a very good question. I never could really answer it with certainty.” Vergil sighed, leaving your list on the table between you and raising his silvery eyes to yours once more. “As impressive as it sounds, demons don’t lack faith. Some of them do worship more powerful demons as deities, and some of them do join each other in cults. As far as I could observe in Hell, they are very similar to humans on that matter: each has their own set of rules and beliefs and most of them kill each other for their ‘gods’.”

“Huh. Humanity once again proving they can be quite demonic.” You scoffed while rolling your eyes. Religious wars were as old as History itself and it was quite ironic for you to hear that was something present in demonic History as well.

“Or demons proving once again they have something of human after all.” Vergil shrugged after observing you a few long seconds, before turning his eyes to another one of his books again. “I’d argue not all humans, though. Differently from demons, most of them save themselves from being devilish and evil.”

“Hmmm. A few demons can also save themselves from that fate.” You had a slight smile on your lips, turning to your tea mug nearby. “And those who do can be even kinder than humans.”

That conversation would find its end right there that night, as both of you went back to your books and research – but you were able to see a slight smile on Vergil’s lips and how his eyes seemed to have softened after that.

Even if your Dark Slayer could soften under your words, you doubted other demons would do that – and even went as far as doubting they would have something close to a human heart. Vergil was different from all the demons in that place; and so, marriage was the last word you ever expected to hear.

But there you were, locked in a derelict room with Kyrie, surrounded by the long gone gothic architecture of a cathedral that once stood proud among those lands – now rotten, decayed, desecrated and with its colorful glass mosaics shattered everywhere, it was taken by demons to perform their unholy ritual.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we Kyrie…?” You sighed back to the only human soul with you in that place – the only hope in that godforsaken night, lit only by the flickering warm light of candles. “Marriage. I did not expect it would be this way, though, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I didn’t expect it either…” Kyrie sighed in complete desolation, staring at a loose stone on the floor. “Nero is going to be so mad.”

“I can only imagine.” You answered with a giggle, taking a seat at rotten wood bench that once served as a place for priests to read while doing their own religious researches. “I don’t think Vergil is going to be very pleased as well.”

“Oh.” And it finally seemed to down on Kyrie who your lover was and how much trouble those demons were in. “Did he… Ever tell you about something like this…?”

“Well, marriage is not really a topic that usually arises with Vergil…” You had your eyes lost on an old bookcase, imagining if any of those would be worth a read. Not that you had too much time for that at the moment, but you were quite disturbed. If it was only you in that situation, you would be more at ease, but Kyrie’s presence changed everything. “But he did tell me about a similar ritual between humans and demons. The human usually isn’t a consenting participant though.”

Raising your eyes to hers, Kyrie felt a shiver down her spine. She knew exactly what you meant and that whole situation was also quite frightening for her – in a matter of fact, she probably wasn’t that scared because you were there; but even that didn’t help much. Not when both of you had no idea what was going on.

“I hate the fact they took my weapons. I’m thinking of a thousand ways to get out of here, but I can’t do it without at least my sword.” You rested your head on one of your hands, looking completely defeated. Kyrie had pity in her eyes, sitting by your side right after.

“Well… This isn’t exactly the sort of wedding dress I would choose either.” She sighed in desolation making you snort a quick laugh. “I’m not comfortable in this. I can only imagine how naked you feel.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes, pointing at your own attire. You and Kyrie looked positively ridiculous: it was as if the demon in charge of your clothes had only seen a bunch of 80’s movies depicting marriages and thought they had to be even more over the top than that. You could barely move in your own clothes and hated every single second of being in that thing. “If I at least had my gun, I’d shoot the bastard who thought this was acceptable.”

Kyrie had to giggle. It was always endearing to see how some of Vergil’s mannerisms spilled into yours over the time and vice versa. Your voice was as sharp as a piece of ice and your eyes had the same predatorial gaze – even if your words sounded funny in context.

“Couldn’t you use your summoned swords? Like Vergil?”

“I could but I shouldn’t.” Your answer was a little slow, because you were considering it. Using summoned swords was always an advantage, but it did come with its limitations. “Vergil is teaching me how to use all his arcane knowledge, little by little… But I’m human.” As you looked at Kyrie, she seemed to immediately understand what you meant: after all, she was the human companion of a half-demon as well. “It takes a lot of energy. Vergil can tap into his demonic energy that, honestly, it can power a whole city when he’s in the right mood. When it comes to me, though, I can only go so far. It takes a lot more concentration and I can do it only for a while – I’m a novice at it even, so I can’t hold it for too long. I need to train a lot more to be able to take an entire mission, for example.”

“Hmmm. It’s just like when Nero trains me with Credo’s sword…” Kyrie mumbled, resting her head on both of her hands, while her elbows leaned on her knees. You had to giggle: she looked like a bummed out child. “It’s so heavy, I can only do a couple of moves and I get tired quickly.”

“Is that why you’ve been training strength at the gym recently…?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. There was something of sweet about that.

Your little angel was soon going to become a buffed little angel waving a big ass sword around. You loved that concept. Nero’s jaw would hit the floor.

“Exactly.” But Kyrie had the most angelic of smiles on her lips. You knew how it was important to her to be able to use Credo’s sword, even if it was just to protect herself and the children of the orphanage – she was never going to become a devil hunter like you. But she was going to be a guardian angel… Like Credo would’ve been if Sanctus hadn’t taken him away in that demonic cult in Fortuna.

Before you could say anything else, though, you felt a shift in the air. Furrowing your brows, you immediately got up from your seat and put yourself in front of Kyrie: whatever it was, it would have to go through you first. She didn’t say a word, seeming to hide behind you and that horrid thing you were wearing – which didn’t really work, seeing how evident her own dress was.

With a few sparks, one of the demon lords spawned right in front of you: Erlach.

“Everything seems to be ready for the ceremony, then. Good.” His smile spread across his leathery skin as a row of a thousand sharp knives. Erlach carried horns and claws, eyes with desolation and the fiery pits of his home, and a set of large wings fit for an overgrown bat – but something about his features were astoundingly human. Demon lords could tower over humans, sometimes even taller than doors, and carry all the might and horror of Hell, but their kind were built in resemblance with their mortal peers – which wasn’t very common when it came to demons.

“When you force your guests to take part in it, things do get ready at your will, demon.” You had that typical coldness in your eyes – the type that would make the will of a lesser demon waiver. It wasn’t the case with Erlach, though: a spark seemed to have crossed his eyes, as he stared at you for a few seconds with interest.

“Apologize being so rude, but I do think you wouldn’t have come this far out of free will, human.” He spat back, allowing a smile to take over his features once more. It wasn’t the most inviting thing you had ever seen, you had to be honest.

“With this sort of attire, I certainly wouldn’t have.”

To your surprise, Erlach laughed in response. You quickly shared a glare with Kyrie, both of you uneasy with such… Tolerance from him.

“I might have to agree with you. Now, come. I wish to speak to you in private – we have enough to discuss.”

*

Before you could even respond, you blinked and suddenly, you were in an old study. Probably a part of the cathedral that only priests had access, with private rooms where they could make their own little libraries and studies – the desk had books and documents all over it, the fire was lit and a thousand candles burned in orange to give light to one of the deepest nights of the year.

You tried not to sigh: demonic teleportation was always a nuisance to you. Your human body still had to get used to that and you always got a little angry at Vergil when he void teleported you with Yamato: he was wise to always ask your permission first and, if it happened during an emergency and it was the only thing available for him to protect you, he knew he was in for some serious complaining from your part later.

Honestly, Vergil would rather have you safe, complaining at him and as mad as a human could be than have you harmed in a place he couldn’t protect you. He was actually getting well versed in dealing with your void teleportation complaints.

“Your kind isn’t very prone to conversations.” You had to point out, taking a deep breath. Your dizziness would be gone in a few seconds and you didn’t want Erlach to know how much it affected you. “Mindless dismemberments and self-boasting talk seem to be the preferred route for demons.”

“Lesser demons. Demon lords do have a different approach to things… And deals.” Erlach walked around his table, skimming over some documents before turning his fiery eyes to you and smiling once more. “The brainless dismembering style is still preferred by some, though. Like Orcus.”

“The second demon lord here tonight.” As you noted, Erlach seemed to have enjoyed your answer. It meant you were paying attention, not only trying to escape. “Demons are quite selfish as well, I wouldn’t expect to see your kind engaging in alliances. Or is that something peculiar to demon lords as well…?”

Yes, you were trying to provoke him – it was in your fighting style, in your blood. When fighting against demons, they all boasted how terrible they were, how they would smash you into a paste on the pavement and feast on your bones. You had to know how to answer at the same level or the fear would get to you. After all, you were fighting against supernatural things on a daily basis, obviously faster and stronger than you. If you didn’t taunt them to inspire a little bit of fear and belittle them before your humanity, you would cower in a corner and wait for certain death.

It was something Vergil admired on you, though. You had everything to fear those you fought against – and, sometimes, you knew you were overpowered by them. Even so, you wouldn’t allow that to show, you would masterfully control your emotions and only let out those you allowed your enemies to see. Vergil was quite proud of that.

“It’s peculiar to those of us who rather use our minds instead of our powers.” Erlach’s eyes lost all interest they had on the documents and were immediately glued to you and you only. Not once you shifted your gaze, and not once your body seemed to want to run away. You just stood there, immobile, gazing back at his fiery eyes with the same conviction as his – waiting the rest of his answer. “You see, I could break your bones with the flick of my wrist, but that wouldn’t be so fun, would it…?” Erlach approached with a slight smile on his lips, some fun playing in his words. His steps were slow and calculated, everything he could to inspire fear in your human heart. “There’s so much more in this world than bending it to your will by force.”

“It is a lot easier. Or so did Mundus think.” You crossed your arms and slightly raised your head, failing to notice how arrogant you looked… Just like Vergil used to be. Dante said one day both of you would get your ass kicked for looking cocky and, well, your day might have arrived. You wouldn’t let your pride slip out of you, tough, and something about Erlach’s demeanor made you think he wasn’t really annoyed by it. His feelings were… Something else.

“It didn’t take him too far, did it…?” Erlach raised one of his eyebrows, slowly approaching you once again. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on his pray, but instead of running, you maintained your posture. The one the Dark Slayer taught you. The one from knowing the power of being tied to the blood of Sparda. “Mundus was arrogant to think humans were only meat.”

“Apparently we are unwilling wedding participants too.” You scoffed, making Erlach laugh in response. You had to hide how his reaction took you by surprise: how much did you have to taunt him for that demon lord to finally lose his temper? “I don’t suppose you brought me here only to properly propose to me.”

“Differently from the Spardas, I do believe in taking some things by force.” Erlach’s voice had a delight laced in his words that made you… Slightly uncomfortable. “The ritual is taking place tonight, whether you and your friend agree to it or not. I just wanted to look into your eyes and see what the son of Sparda, the Dark Slayer who had been locked in Hell for decades, saw in you. A bond between a demon and any mortal creature isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

“Well, then you aren’t in luck. I am not married to Vergil, nor do I think he will ever want to be.” Your answer was certain and, to the demon’s surprise, carried no tinge of bitterness. You and Vergil had an agreement regarding your relationship: he would be with you for as long as you would have him, but he would never think of binding you to his fate like his father did to his mother. You had said countless times you didn’t mind and you weren’t afraid, but it wasn’t something Vergil was ready for. And you could respect that. “Our bond is not what you think it is.”

“Oh, it is exactly what I think it is.” Erlach’s words carried a truth you feared you weren’t able to see at the moment – as if he knew something you didn’t. You had to control your feelings not to furrow your brows and allow him to see your confusion, hiding it under your unbothered and strong demeanor – like whatever words he said could never affect you. “It isn’t a ceremonial bond, but one of souls. The heart does not lie, my exquisite guest, and the Spardas seem to be haunted by their father’s heartful curse.” His fingers grasped an old piece of paper in one of the desks by your side; Erlach’s indifferent eyes analyzed its contents while he spoke. “I will never understand why Sparda decided not to follow our rituals. He could’ve been great; Greater than Mundus himself. But he chose to diminish and turn himself as human as he could be… and look at what happened to him and his family. A shame, really.” He tossed aside the paper, and you could see an old picture of Sparda and Eva, falling apart from how old it was. Probably cut out from a book, looking like a painting; a portrait made long ago, before Dante and Vergil were even born. “Our marriage is called a binding ritual. It requires two souls to connect, and it makes one of them more powerful than one could ever dream of.”

“Hmmm. It requires one to diminish itself and be a powerless servant, then. I can see why Sparda discarded this option.” He would’ve never done such a thing to Eva, and that you had learned from all the stories Vergil told you from his parents. If you had only known the story from the books and popular tales, you would’ve asked yourself the same thing and have the same questions Erlach had – but you did have Sparda’s own son to tell the story. To paint you how his father was warm, stern, yes, but still kind, graceful and loving… To paint him as human. In all his adoration for Eva, he would never think of turning her into a powerless slave to his will. That was not what love was. “You still have much to learn.”

Erlach’s fiery eyes immediately met yours – but they didn’t carry the offense you thought they would. There was something else inside his demonic eyes. Was it… Excitement? Maybe…?

“Oh, little human, you have much to learn then to think some wouldn’t appreciate being slaves to their partner’s will. It is all a matter of pleasure.” His smile, though, immediately made you uncomfortable. If that subject had been mentioned by Vergil, you would definitely answer with a sassy smile and state that, in a matter of fact, you did know about that – and see where that conversation with your devilish partner would get you. But with Erlach…? It sounded more like a warning rather than anything else. Definitely a red flag waving in front of you. “The other soul does get something in return – some very important things in Hell: protection and status. Desecrating the partner of one of the most powerful demons to ever live could easily be a death sentence to whatever demon foolish enough to do so.”

“If that is the case, and I am bonded to Vergil, I wonder how foolish you have to be to willingly kidnap and forcefully wed the partner of the King of Hell.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud. You wouldn’t even say it in front of Dante and Nero. Whenever the subject decided to appear, you just nodded, agreeing with the others that what Vergil did was horrifying and terribly wrong.

But you couldn’t deny the power trip on the rare occasions you decided to flex Vergil’s King of Hell title.

It had its perks.

“Only foolish if I don’t finish the ritual in time, my little human. I was also careful enough to find myself some leverage.” Erlach immediately waved at the door, referring to Kyrie. You didn’t want to sigh in acknowledgement, but that was enough to at least try to put some halt in Vergil’s murderous rampage. Or to make Nero hold his father on a leash if Vergil just decided to recklessly kill everything on sight. You had some serious concerns those demons heavily understated Vergil’s power. “I had no intentions to let Orcus partake in this ritual but I did need a brute to carry out most of the killing; it would be terribly boring.” With those words, Erlach approached enough to stop right in front of you. At any moment you flinched or decided to walk back, even if everything in your being wanted to put some very good distance between the both of you. Preferably a Vergil of distance. “Therefore, he can bind himself to the weakest of partners. The grandson of Sparda clearly isn’t as attuned to power as Sparda’s spawns.”

“Only a demon would think a human heart is weaker than a devil’s will.” You scoffed in response, raising your head once even higher – in part to be able to look at Erlach directly in his eyes. Vergil’s gaze could cut like the sharpest of ice, and you had seen those silvery eyes in their worst. Erlach’s gaze was nothing compared to the Dark Slayer. “Maybe that was the source of Sparda’s power, have you ever thought of that?”

You would never throw a demon lord like Erlach at Kyrie, but you were quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the truth to your words and would never turn to the crew’s little angel as the most powerful of partners. Demons could be quite predictable in your book.

“Hmmm. Maybe humans measure their status through empathy, but in Hell…” Erlach’s eyes leveled with yours, his head bowing to be able to share his gaze with you – and, instead of fear, he found something else… Something closer to pride. You were the counterpart of the King of Hell after all, weren’t you? You would never bow your head and lose your crown, Erlach was beginning to understand that. And appreciate that. “We measure through power. And you carry quite the power within you, dearest human. Vergil, the Son of Sparda, wouldn’t accept any less with all the titles he carries. He is part demon, after all.”

That was some food for thought that had never crossed your mind before. Yes, Vergil was partly human, but without a doubt, it was Dante who got most of Eva’s heart. Vergil always took pride in his demonic heritage and power, and always found solace in that – he slowly came to terms with his own humanity and learned to appreciate the human heart, but the thirst for power ran deep in his demonic veins. He did see something in you more than your human empathy… Or else, his devil would never consider bowing to you.

“Hmmm. If all you search is power then, you can always betray Orcus and perform the ritual only for yourself.” You had a spark of sharp intelligence in your eyes, making Erlach widen his smile as the words poured from your lips. “Surely a creature like you wouldn’t mind some backstabbing and murder to keep all the power to yourself.”

“Oh, my sweet temptation, I have to say, I love the way you think…!” Now his voice had a trail of smoldering lust that not even you could deny it was there. Yes, you were trying to manipulate the demon into killing Orcus and leaving only one demon lord for you to deal with – which would make your life quite easy – and probably releasing Kyrie while at it. But you never expected your little game to backfire so gloriously: perhaps Vergil was right when he said you still had a thing or two to learn about his kind. “And I know what you are trying to do – very exciting. A battle of wits and manipulation with a devil, you are truly fearless.” You didn’t think Erlach couldn’t approach you even more, but there he was, towering over you in a way you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Even if you wanted to void-teleport Vergil right between you at that very moment, you wouldn’t back down – it wasn’t in you. “When all this started, I thought only to bond with a powerful creature of human blood – now… You have proven to be spellbounding, sweet sweet creature. I see what Vergil saw in you: all the cleverness, might, strength, wits; all that fire.” With those words, Erlach offered you his hand, with those fiery eyes staring inside your soul. “I will take you as my partner, but you can do it willingly. I will give you protection and you will be royalty in Hellish realms. You will rule by my side: everything we want is ours for the taking, and anything you ask, I will give you. Kingdoms, realms, worlds. Every living creature that has ever taken a breath will bow to us – the world is mine and yours to rule… You just have to say yes.”

Erlach’s words took you by surprise – your head spun and you thought soon your feet wouldn’t know how to keep you stable on the floor. Your plans backfiring was a serious understatement. You never gave Erlach a reason to like you: on the contraire, you only gave him reasons to be extremely annoyed and suspicious of any and all of your actions. He had no hidden agendas in his words, as far as you could see, and it was extremely obvious what was going on.

You just didn’t expect that to happen, out of all the outcomes of that night.

“Why would I do that when I am already royalty?” Your answer, though, came back with the icy stare you learned from your beloved blue devil, crossing your arms once more and raising your head high just like he used to do. It wasn’t something you did consciously – with time, people develop some mannerisms of their loved ones, and you were no different.

You just got Vergil’s arrogance – and you were more than ready to pay for your tongue. That little game between you and Erlach had already gone too far: you had spotted a few things in the room you could use as a weapon and you were ready to go feral if he attacked you because of your insolence.

You were disarmed, though, when Erlach started laughing – a laugh of pure delight.

“I will have to steal, then. Just like Paris did to Helen of Troy.”

“But remember: an entire kingdom burned just so that King Menelaus could have Helen of Sparta back.”

“Indeed, Beautiful Helen. I shall keep that in mind.” With those words, Erlach’s rough hands took one of yours by force and placed a sharp kiss on your soft skin – that seemed to burn like a lingering fire even after you were teleported back to your improvised cell.

You had to sit down. You had to sit down. That night was already becoming quite the ride – and you thought your Halloween nights couldn’t be even wilder than the ones you had already had so far. But there you were, proven wrong, by a demon lord with a crazy ancient ritual that required a demonic marriage. You were flabbergasted, shocked, breathless… And a little scared.

Vergil had always warned you not to play with demons – especially with those who were witty enough to answer at your level. You always thought he warned you so you could dodge being fooled and trapped into a deal you never saw coming in the first place – he never told you one of those creatures could develop feelings towards you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?!” Kyrie rushed towards you, sitting by your side on that bench you were before, checking your temperature. You were still staring at some lost point on the ground, clearly questioning your life choices so far. “Y/n! Did he hurt you?! What happened?!”

“I think one of the most absurd things just happened in this lifetime…” You murmured, finally staring back at her with a concerned look – but somewhat empty eyes. Kyrie just had her eyebrows furrowed, because if something worried you then she should be even more worried. “I think a demon lord just fell in love with me.”

“Ooooh, no…” The dread in Kyrie’s voice could be understood by even the most clueless of creatures. She closed her eyes, already foreseeing chaos and destruction. “Vergil is going to go on a rampage.”

Yes. And, honestly, you weren’t looking forward to that.

*

“I know we are in a hurry…!” Lady was leaning out the open door of the Devil May Cry van while Nico drove furiously right behind Dante’s trail. Screaming at the red devil while on the road wasn’t an easy – nor safe – task, but honestly, Lady had done worse. “But what are you trying to do, cowboy?! Not miss the train?!”

Dante immediately slowed down slightly, just so he could be side by side with the devil hunter he knew since his teen years. Looking up at her, Dante didn’t even have to watch the road to keep on going without running over anything – his demonic insight would make up for that.

“Kinda, Lady.” His answer was a little snarky, even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, kid! How are your instincts with your girl?!”

“Not good, I’ll tell ya that.” Nero growled, almost unable to stand still by Nico’s side. The gunsmith had made a mental note not to bother him through that whole evening: Nero’s fangs were already showing, his eyes had a tinge of gold, and his trigger distortion was already appearing in his voice. If she actually took some time to look at him, she would be able to see claws instead of nails and his hair a little bit longer than usual – almost like they were back in Fortuna. Nico still wasn’t used to half-triggered Nero and she could bet it would take some time. “Kyrie’s heart, she’s anxious. Somethin’s unsettling her. And I don’t like it. At all.”

With those words, Nero finished doing whatever he was doing with Red Queen and his sword clicked back into place, revving up with the engines he had installed long ago.

“If the kid is like that, imagine Vergil.” Dante stated back to Lady and Trish, now leaning by the open door completely unbothered by the speed and the wind. “He’s an idiot, but still, man’s got enough power to level a whole city. He’s an asshat who can control his feelings, alright, but he’s got one hell of a trauma and a thing for protecting. His partner is gone. He’s on a bloodlust rampage, trust me. We gotta get to this place before Vergil, or all hell will break lose.”

“Vergil’s our train. Got it.” Lady immediately turned serious, remembering all the times she had ever seen Vergil fight – and all he could do.

“Nico! Hit the gas pedal! We aren’t gonna get there in time going at this speed.” Trish strutted over the driver’s seat – always keeping an eye on Nero. She knew how half-triggers could be disorienting and dangerous, and she could help in case anything went wrong – after all, she was a full devil and, wanting or not, she could take down Nero in a fight, to some extent, if she ever had to. At least long enough to give Dante time to fight his nephew in a fit of rage.

“Already goin’ as fast as I can, demon lady!” Nico had her cigarette between her teeth and her foot never leaving the gas pedal. Indeed, it was the fastest speed for the van.

“We just gotta give it a spark, then.” With those words, Trish rested one of her hands on the van’s panel, her eyes immediately sparkling with thunderous yellow. Her demonic sparks ran through her body, pooling over her heart and running down her arm, jolting to the van and enveloping it on her signature yellow lighting.

“WOOOOAH!” Nico had to hold her cigarette even tighter, both hands on the wheel as the van seemed to fly on the road. “Are you CRAZY, woman?!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, virtuosa.” And Trish’s own glowing yellow eyes never left the streets. “We’ll make it there on time.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dante couldn’t help but laugh and use part of his own trigger to make Cavaliere go faster, now side by side with the van. “Keep it up, babe!”

They had to make it before Vergil. Dante knew in his heart he was the only one who could speak some logic back to his brother at a moment like that.

*

“Me and Vergil… We have a thing.”

You and Kyrie were being taken to the main event of the night: the ritual at the center of the derelict cathedral, under the light of the moon and the stars, witnessed by demons and the lost souls on the forgotten cemetery nearby. Barely any stained-glass mosaics were left – but those that were gave the cathedral an eerie tinge of color; like ghosts long gone in a place that was once holy. Your steps echoed on the stony ground, and you could hear the crackling of an enormous bonfire in the distance – as well as see the distorted, tall shadows of the demons taking both of you to your doom.

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing. I’m just saying it’s a thing.” You sighed, making her hazelnut eyes stare at you with interest as you walked proudly in front of her. The demons forced Kyrie to walk and kept shoving her until you made them only escort you to the ritual with just a stare of authority – she had to admit, you and Vergil were very much alike in some departments. “I can… Sense him sometimes. And he can sense me, whenever he wants to. It has to do with the arcane studies and the fact that we are partners.” You remained silent for a few seconds, closing your eyes for a while to take a deep breath before opening them again. “He can feel my distress. He knows when I’m worried, anxious, in danger.”

“Hmmm… Nero can do that too… I wonder if it’s a family thing.” Kyrie whispered back, not wanting the other demons to hear your conversation. You kept as close to her as possible, but still walking in front of her: if anything happened, it had better happen to you first.

“I wonder the same, too.” You answered with a breathy laugh, seeing the beauty of Vergil’s son being so alike him sometimes – and you wondered if Sparda had the same with Eva; with your heart already knowing the answer. “Sometimes, I feel Vergil’s rage too. His despair. His loneliness. His pain.” You went silent for a while, not really wanting to elaborate on that. It was the first time you were talking about that to someone on the crew – the first time you told Vergil, you had no idea what to do with those emotions and to say it was a roller coaster of a night to both of you, was an understatement. “What I feel is only a shadow of what he feels. And when he feels me, there is no force on Earth that will stop him. He will find me and, if need be, obliterate whatever is causing me trouble.”

“Oh.”

Kyrie finally understood why you said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When it came to her and Nero, their connection was deep and strong – and she had never seen anything like that before. But, the way you were speaking, it was different with you and Vergil… Maybe even stronger. And, when it came to Vergil, that could be for good or for bad.

You had to wonder how it was with Eva and Sparda. He was a demon, after all, and she was human. If Vergil was already that protective towards you, and that ruthless when it came to his enemies, you could see Sparda destroying entire countries for the woman he loved – being a harbinger of nothing but death, ruin and despair, only to have her feeling safe in his arms once again.

The fall of the city of Troy never made so much sense to you before that moment. Even if in the original story Helen’s heart was taken by Paris, still, Menelaus burned, killed, maimed and destroyed everything in his way just so she could be Helen of Sparta again… You could see Vergil and his father doing the same – but, in yours and Eva’s case, you would be longing to be back into their arms once more.

“Vergil is coming. And he is not in his best shape, emotionally speaking.” You whispered back to Kyrie so she could understand the extent of the situation you were in. “What I just felt, I could kill one of these demons with my bare hands. When Vergil’s here, he will do his best not to hurt you, but he is focused in one thing only so… Get out of his way. And I’m not trying to be rude…”

“I understand.” Kyrie whispered back, carefully noticing the demons eyeing each other. She knew you weren’t really giving her a warning, you were playing a little game: planting seeds of terror and discord so they would tear each other apart from the inside just from being afraid of Vergil. It was a clever move and Kyrie would’ve praised you if she had the chance. “I’ve already seen Nero almost go on a rampage. It really isn’t nice. I hope he doesn’t try to join his father, or there will not be a single rock left standing in this cathedral soon enough.”

She decided to play your game, noticing a slight smile of approval on the corner of your lips. All of you hunters always had smart strategies to deal with the demons you did on a daily basis, but, when you were completely stripped of your weapons just like on that moment, you had to resort to other ways of fighting.

Your scheming had to be put to a halt for a while when you approached the decaying wooden doors that opened your path down the church’s aisle – a moth eaten dark red carpet, now almost black from dirt and time, painting the path you should follow; until you would stand side by side with the devil who kidnapped you, now waiting for your presence by a tall bonfire at the center of the cathedral, illuminating an altar right behind Erlach.

Things suddenly seemed even more serious now and your heart sunk in your chest. As you started to walk down the aisle, the demons watching that hellish ceremony chanted and hit their weapons or claws rhythmically on the stony floor. Kyrie was held by one of the demons who guided you towards the aisle, outside of that madness, but soon to go in after your ritual came to an end – after you got married.

A few seconds after your heart seemed to have sunken on the floor, you felt a rage bubbling inside your chest, threatening to come out of your mouth with an earth shattering scream; running through your body like a violent bolt of lightning, resting on your hands that immediately closed to fists as you raised your head high: for a split second, if you saw anything that could be used as a weapon to cut Erlach’s head off its neck, you would’ve taken it and plunged in like a furious beast.

That lightning, though, dissipated as fast as it ran through your body. You didn’t lose your posture and kept walking with certain, hard steps towards your fate – but that blind bloody rage was gone.

It was Vergil.

You knew it was him. It was right after you had that desperate, desolating feeling of not knowing what to do, of watching that harrowing scene right in front of you and not knowing how to get out… Of feeling trapped like a little mouse on a cage. You felt some of Vergil’s emotions in a very fleeting manner – in a bolt of lightning – but he could feel yours more certainly and longingly. That bloodthirst that ran through your body… It was just a fleeting taste of Vergil’s emotional response to knowing how unsafe you felt.

After all he had been through, protection was a big thing for your blue devil. He silently promised nothing would ever happen to his newfound family now that he was strong enough to protect not only himself, but everyone around him. Knowing you were vulnerable, completely exposed, feeling like prey and he wasn’t around to keep you safe… To say Vergil’s demonic blood was boiling was a great understatement.

“Come, brilliant creature among humans. Midnight is close, and the ritual must be completed.” Erlach offered you his rough, devilish hand so you could take and approach the altar with him – a stone containing a couple of candles and an old golden bow, marked by ancient, dry blood.

You stopped right where you were, not taking his hand, but still staring into his eyes. You were thinking of words of defiance, of improvised weapons, of anything you could do to get you and Kyrie out of there. If you had to fight that demon with hands and teeth, so be it, but you wouldn’t back down – and if it was for you to die, you would die fighting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roaring thunder rumbling through the pitch-black skies right above your heads. You couldn’t see any clouds and it didn’t seem like it was going to rain earlier that day, but that ominous thunder roared once more – with a flash of a lightning in the distance cracking down from the sky suddenly illuminating your face as you opened a broad smile. Erlach only eyed you with confusion, taken aback by the sudden prelude of rain.

“A storm is approaching.” Your somber voice did not match the smile across your lips and Erlach’s eyes filled with understanding – even if he himself didn’t think that was possible for only a half-demon like the Dark Slayer. “You have yet time to give up this foolishness before he arrives.”

“I am not scared by a little thunder, human. You shall learn that in time.” The demon decided to ignore the warning on your voice, taking your hand with a little too much strength, already guiding you to the altar.

But you heard whispers – among the other demons, yours and Kyrie's words were being replicated, some of them resting silent while others laughed. With your ominous warning over a simple storm, though, they started to wander… To fear. Was that something done by your lover? Was that the extent of Sparda’s power? The Dark Slayer, the one who escaped from Hell and from his imprisonment by none other than Mundus, was that powerful…? They didn’t know. And some of them, didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, you will learn to be scared.” You whispered, back, slowly going up the few steps that kept you and Erlach far from each other. He conducted you with an iron grip, while the only thing you had in mind was to buy Vergil more time to get to you. “As all of you do.”

“Not if I get the ritual done first.” With those harsh words, Erlach gripped your arm in a way you couldn’t escape, even if his gestures were a lot more flourished than brute. You saw a ritualistic dagger in his other hand and you knew what the next step would be. “Then he shall learn a thing or two about fear.”

His hands moved so fast you didn’t have time to quip back – even if you wanted to answer that, after all Vergil had been through, making him feel fear was quite the achievement. Very few things could frighten his heart and soul… And you were oblivious enough to point out that, Vergil’s protective and enraged response that day was not only out of love, but out of fear of losing you.

Before Erlach could resume cutting your hand to harvest your blood for the bonding ritual, you managed to pierce his arm with a white summoned sword. With that surprise, Erlach dropped the weapon and you took it in your hand – twisting it and approaching him enough to press it against his neck, already making him bleed. You just didn’t manage to kill him because his survival reflexes made him snap our of his surprise and hold your hand against his neck, struggling with you in order to see who would win: you, by taking his life, or him, by taking you as his.

“My King of Hell isn’t the only one who should be feared, demon. You will learn that with time.” Your voice was low and filled with pride, hearing as the other demons immediately started whispering to each other: Orcus and Erlach probably didn’t tell them all the titles your lover carried.

As if to support you, another thunder roared in the skies and a lightning cracked near the desecrated cathedral. Some demons seemed to gasp and become startled, expecting Vergil to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

A few drops of water started to fall on your hair, your face, and run down your hands… And between your lips as you smiled.

“You are indeed a rare one.” But, to your surprise, Erlach smiled back. His sharp nails buried in the skin of your arm holding the knife, making you relax your grip ever so slightly as blood started to run from the wounds he inflicted. “Blood is blood. No matter how I attain it. Alas, I wanted our bonding to be beautiful, but this will do.”

With your blood running down his claws, Erlach grasped the blade on his neck, cutting his own hand even if you didn’t let the dagger go. Reaching out for the golden bowl, you once again tried to stab his neck, but the demon finally let go of your other arm only to hold your hand back. As you both struggled, you did your best to keep his hand away from the bowl, with Erlach already muttering some words in a language long lost to your human ears.

It was your blood already mixed with his. Whatever you did, he couldn’t reach that bowl for anything in this world.

You didn’t notice when the rain became stronger. You didn’t notice when Orcus moved Kyrie away from the door. You didn’t notice when the thunders seemed to roar inside the earth beneath your feet. All your strength was concentrated in keeping Erlach away from the altar, and all his strength was focused on completing the ritual on time.

“Before me all things create were none, save things Eternal, and Eternal I shall endure.*” Oh, you would recognize that voice even if you were dead. The words creeped through the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by calm, calculated steps approaching with resolve. The demons’ attentions turned to the rotten door, as well as yours and Erlach’s eyes, finally stopping to struggle. Vergil’s silhouette finally made itself visible, as if he was taken by a cold blue aura in the darkness – his silvery eyes set on you and your foe, one of his hands grasping the hilt of the Yamato as the other kept the sword safe at his side. “Per aspera, ad Inferi.”

There was a change in the air. Your very breath seemed to warp around you as time became slurred and thick. For a few moments it was difficult to breathe, as the storm outside that desecrated place looked like it would start bleeding inside the cathedral. You stumbled back, closer to the altar, dragging Erlach with you – you knew what was coming. Some demons tried to run, others froze in place, while some got ready to fight.

You could see how that cold, fiery blue started to cut the air – a split second before Vergil disappeared and all you could hear was the sound of the Yamato slicing everything in sight. Time stopped for a while, your breath disappeared from your lungs, your heart didn’t beat. You held yourself together as strongly as you could, while Erlach stared at that view with a pair of impressed – or maybe even fearful – eyes.

Vergil appeared once more, now standing a few meters away from you – all he had to do was climb the steps to finally reach you. Placing Yamato in its sheath, Vergil took a few long seconds to get the shiny blade to slide down and, with a click, make most of the demons – and whatever decoration that was left standing – fall apart in piles of flesh and blood.

You didn’t want to say you had warned them, but well… You had warned them.

“You’re too late, Dark Slayer.” With those words, Erlach reached the bowl – now even closer than before, since you dragged him back not to be so close to a judgement cut of that magnitude. His words were like a bell, waking you up to the reality that a single drip of your mixed blood in the gold, and it would all be over.

But Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again, as fast as he moved down the aisle to reach you, and the golden bowl was cut in half – cracking in some places, gold dust spilling at your feet.

“You should learn, demon, some things can never be taken by force.” Vergil’s voice was like a velvety murmur in the dark – and you knew, the quieter he grew, the more time he had to marinate his anger. “Love, is one of them. Respect, is another.”

Those silvery eyes finally landed on yours, as a faint smile spread across your lips. Love would be nothing without respect, and Vergil argued that earning your respect was one of the most honorable things you could have graced him with – not that the love was not of importance, but if you had never come to respect him, the love you shared would have never flourished… And the reciprocate was true.

“Well, well, looks like we’ve arrived in time.” You heard Dante sighing by the door, guns already on his hands. “Big bad demon is all yours, Verge. We’ll handle things back here.”

“Kyrie!” And you barely saw Nero as he ran towards Orcus with all the rage of the world in his eyes, slicing demons in the way with a revved up Red Queen and leaving a trail of fire behind him. Sometimes he was a lot like his own father, but other times, his uncle's heritage shined through.

Vergil didn’t even look back at the crew already killing the demons who fought and who tried to run away – he only had eyes for you and the filthy creature holding you in its arms.

“Last time I saw you, my whips cracked on that soft skin of yours, spawn of Sparda.” And for the first time that night, you heard some more emotion on Erlach’s voice – something close to hate. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he said he was… Maybe he was prone to violence after all. “You tried your best to hold back your tears as your filthy blood tainted the floors of Hell. But everything cracks, eventually.”

A jolt of pain burned across your skin on your back as if you were naked, as fast as a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t help but to wince at the feeling, even if Vergil and Erlach remained immobile. In a fraction of a second, you understood a little of that pain, of a memory in the back of Vergil’s head that came back like a kick in the stomach, and it seemed not to affect him at all – but you knew, you could feel what he didn’t show.

The pain was fleeting, but the anger wasn’t – that was yours and yours only. As you suddenly flinched, you took advantage of that moment of surprise to move your arms once again and the strength of your boiling anger to slash Erlach as you could, eager to take a piece of him… Eager to kill him after the suffering he put your lover through.

“Everything cracks indeed.” You murmured as he took one of his hands to his face, noticing the considerable gash you opened on his cracked skin – now pouring blood profusely. “Next, I will cut your tongue.”

You heard a quick chuckle from Vergil, silvery eyes observing you with so much pride – and a little of something else. Pride was always easy to see in him: the way he carried himself, the way he posed with his head high, the way his eyes admired that which he respected and loved… But care was a different thing. If you were looking at your lover, it would take you some time to notice, but his admiration for you was never ending behind his pride to be able to call you his.

“I do understand how you came to love this human, that I will admit.” Erlach hissed back at Vergil, licking his own blood from his fingers. Risking a glance at the cathedral, the demon assessed the situation: the bowl was broken, the demons were all but destroyed, fleeing from the weapons of Dante, Lady and Trish, Nero had Kyrie back in his arms and Orcus was nowhere to be seen. “I truly underestimated the depth of your feelings for such a fragile creature.”

“Eloquent words, but no wisdom behind them.” Vergil’s response was prideful as always, as he walked the small set of steps to reach you – and probably slice Erlach apart. “Fragile is far from what I would use to describe y/n. I will burn bridges, destroy cities, crush entire empires to protect those whom I love and respect. There is nothing of fragile in that.” Pointing Yamato at Erlach, the blade almost touched the wound you inflicted in the demon’s neck. “You should remember that as I kill you for this insolence, pitiful scum.”

His stern eyes glinted with a tint of blue, as Vergil’s teeth were already sharp in fangs. His hands around the Yamato already started to resemble claws and his voice, even if you would love it in all of its iterations, had that distinct demonic distortion. His blue fire engulfed him like a faint shadow, but it did make your lover look even taller than he already was. On the brink of his humanity, it would take only a spark to make him burst into his demonic form.

“King of Hell.” You mouthed at Erlach while pointing at Vergil right in front of you, as if to prove a point – the point you wanted to prove from the beginning: no matter what those demons did, Vergil was stronger and more powerful than all of them together.

And, of course, you could use another rush of power whenever you flexed that title. You just hoped no one else in the crew would see it: you’d be in for some harsh judgement if they did.

“I shall remember for the next time we meet, son of Sparda.” Erlach turned his fiery eyes to you. “And I shall see you again, brilliant Helen.”

With those words, the demon used its own blood for an incantation to flee a battle he would definitely lose – a smart move, even if you didn’t know where he went… And if that ominous warning was not something you would have wanted to hear. You would prefer to see him dead.

“Hmmm… Bold of this creature to assume it could steal your love like foolish Paris.” Vergil had to murmur under his breath, immediately turning around to face you, Yamato quickly back on its sheath. Before you could say anything, Vergil took your hand in his with a surprising gentle touch, only so he could analyze the bloody scratches on your arm – as well as allow his silver eyes to burn with wrath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, that’s the only wound. You don’t need to worry, Vergil.” Your answer, though, made his eyes fly to look into yours as if you had said one of the most jarring things he had ever heard.

“I will always worry about you. You know that.”

He didn’t have to say, you could feel it. You had felt his worrying ever since he had learned it was Erlach who kidnapped you and wanted to complete that mad bonding ritual. Vergil’s worry was in his fear of losing whatever love he managed to have in that godforsaken life of his, and that usually manifested in an unparalleled anger in him. All that wrath… It was one of the highest praises you could ever get from your lover.

Placing both of your hands to cradle his face, you didn’t allow Vergil to keep on speaking as you pressed your lips against his. It was one of the most effective ways you could rest that flame inside his heart and bring him some peace – the same way the droplets of rain seemed to want to wash away all the blood and fury of that night. It took him a couple of seconds to start melting under your touch, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to his body, as your kiss quieted the fear that burned inside his heart.

You parted from his lips, even if Vergil himself didn’t seem to want to do so. His breathing, though, was already going back to a normal pace and you couldn’t feel his fangs under your lips anymore. As those silvery eyes stared back at you, the blue tinges were gradually gone. You took your hands to his hair, taking the rebellious strands that were already falling on his vision and brushing them back into his usual hairstyle – and Vergil even allowed himself to thank you with a soft smile.

“I cannot help but wonder, though…” He finally murmured, voice back to his dark tone with no traces of his demonic side showing up. “What, in the name of the gods, you are wearing.”

“Apparently, this hideous thing is what demons consider a wedding attire.” You sighed back, still in his embrace. You refused to look down and see yourself in that ridiculous thing again. “I wanted to get rid of it, but alas, the other option was to be completely naked.”

“Hmmm…” You didn’t know if Vergil hummed or growled, but you did know he was quite unpleased by that sight – almost as much as you. Taking your hand, Vergil guided you around the enormous bonfire behind the altar, in a place the crew couldn’t see you. “Don’t move.”

Before you could even ask what he had in mind, the air around you warped and your clothes fell on the ground after a quick and clean judgment cut.

That was a way to solve things, but…

“My clothes…”

Vergil immediately took off his coat, wrapping it around you and keeping you close, helping you dress it and hold it closed in front of you. It was a lot bigger than your form, and definitely a heavy piece of clothing, but it smelled like him – and that was one of the things that could always calm the distress in your heart.

“We will find your clothes. But you cannot walk around dressed like a clown.” With you still in his arms, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your forehead, catching you by surprise.

A nice surprise that made you smile.

“On that, I agree with you. If we were ever to get married, I would have never worn such a thing.” You whispered back, making him chuckle while staring into your eyes again. Sometimes, the ice in his silver stare seemed to melt for a while, just like at that moment.

“You would be a beautiful sight to see.” His answer was also a whisper, and a rather unexpected one: that was something you never expected Vergil to say. He often mentioned how Sparda marrying Eva was a blessing to him and a curse to her, even if you insisted on arguing that probably wasn’t true; but you would never expect Vergil, of all people, would have imagined you on a wedding day… With him.

“Hey! Are you both makin’ out behind that bonfire? C’mon, it’s not time for that, Verge! Did mom never teach you to have manners?”

Dante’s voice interrupted whatever you could say in response, as Vergil already started to growl in annoyance at what his twin brother was implying. You headed back to the crew, twins ready to start bickering once again, as always. You saw Kyrie wearing Nero’s coat and couldn’t help but giggle – like father like son.

You sighed, finding Vergil’s fingers and entangling his between yours – his touch reciprocating immediately. It was time to go home.

*

“Your fingers are cold.”

Vergil held your hands close to him as you waited for the crew to drive back to the shop. Nico was smoking behind the wheel and you took some time to rest as everyone tried to find what the demons stole from you and Kyrie as well as where they found out about that binding ritual – or demonic marriage, as you began to enjoy calling it.

Your lover couldn’t stay away from you for too long, though. He came back after a little while, not wanting to admit he was too worried to leave you alone for more then a couple of minutes – even if you were with Nico.

He would argue if something bad happened, you would be the one doing the saving while Nico would be screaming around and trying to run demons over… And you couldn’t really disagree with him on that.

“Well, it’s part of my human condition.” You smiled back as Vergil had his mouth close to your hands, trying to warm them up with his breath. On the other hand, there was your blue devil, arms completely naked under his leather vest, oblivious to the weather. “I can’t keep myself warm while naked under a snowstorm like some.”

“Well, I cannot either.” Even if his eyes were a little harsh upon looking at you, there was also some amusement hidden underneath the ice. “Although I would survive enough to get you to safety.”

Vergil’s eyes went back to your hands while you kept on observing how he occupied himself with the task of warming you. His lips were close enough so you could feel them ghosting over your fingers, but never touching your skin. His rough hands cradled yours with a touch so gentle one would never expect from the likes of him. Everything about Vergil screamed danger, but when it came to you, it was completely opposite.

“I wished so bad you would find me.” You finally whispered, keeping your eyes close. Feelings weren’t easy for the both of you; somehow, you found that closing your eyes while being around only him was easier to allow your heart to open – and there were times Vergil did the very same thing when talking to you. “I… I did my best not to seem frightened. Kyrie needed me to stay strong, the demons couldn’t know and have the upper hand. But I was scared. I was lost. And I wished, deep inside my heart, you’d somehow find me in the darkness.”

“I know.” His answer was quiet, hands still wrapped around yours. You could feel Vergil’s breath as he spoke, slowly opening your eyes to find his looking back at your once again. “I know. No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

For a few seconds, the air lacked in your lungs and the words in your mouth. If you weren’t alone, you would’ve fought the tears that marinated your eyes, even if you didn’t want them to fall – they would rest there, making it seem like you were observing Vergil with a whole universe in yourself, just for him. And he would always appreciate that.

“As soon as I felt your rage, I knew you were coming.” You confided back, making him furrow his brows for a while. “I happen to be pretty good at energy work, Vergil. Remember sometimes I get to feel you back? I did today. And that’s when I knew I was safe.”

The last pieces of the puzzle arranged themselves in Vergil’s head: of course, when he got the strongest emotions from you, it was easier for you to get his. But when his emotions were too strong, that connection could work as well, for better or for worse – and he remembered how you flinched in the cathedral when Erlach mentioned how he tortured Vergil… When he was taken aback for a few moments suddenly feeling that pain he tried so hard to forget.

It was a shame you had to feel that too – his eyes went down to your hands while his eyebrows furrowed now from annoyance rather than confusion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered back, placing your fingers under his chin and making Vergil look back into your eyes. “I’m here for the good, the bad and the ugly – no matter how harrowing it gets. You can always rely on me, as I know I can always rely on you.”

“As long as time will have us be together.”

Vergil’s murmured response was crowned with a gentle kiss on your hands, making you smile softly in return. You knew he was still annoyed with the fact you felt the worst of his emotions, but at least you were safe – and, for now, he would have to settle for that. You just hoped one day Vergil understood you didn’t see those terrible things that happened to him as a flaw, but as something he didn’t have to carry quietly on his own.

It just made you respect him even more than you already did.

“You don’t realize what you are, do you…?” Your question was a little absent as you kept on observing his stern face, with those silvery eyes now staring at you in confusion and distress: his heart beating a little faster, concluding you finally came to your senses that you had decided to give your love to a devil. “You deem yourself as one of the cruelest and worst creatures to ever walk the earth, but you don’t realize… Demons don’t protect their loved ones like you did today.”

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making Vergil instinctively hold your waist so you wouldn’t lose your balance. All the while, you never allowed those vulnerable silver eyes to leave yours.

“Angels do.”

As you placed your lips on his, Vergil’s embrace held you tightly against him – and even after you parted, he remained holding you, his head hidden in your shoulders and your hair. Vergil was silent and didn’t make a single noise, but you could feel the tears leaking into your mouth during the kiss and later dropping on your neck.

His heart could take a lot of harshness and cruelty, pain and torture, without even flinching. But this time… It was the first time in his life that Vergil was seen as good.

And his heart wasn’t used to that.

----

*Inferno, by Dante Allighieri

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #devil may halloween #SO MUCH HAPPENING ON THIS #but for some reason I remembered when I was playing DMC4 with Vergil for the first time #having the hero music blasting on the back with Vergil saving the day #I found myself almost crying thinking 'this man hasn't had a DAY of rest in his life and probably was NEVER seen as good or as a hero' #and made me think how MUCH Vergil needs that #he needs to hear he's an angel sometimes #that would DESTROY this man #being tortured? fine #dragging his dying body out of hell? been there done that #having his lover tell him he's good? man is a crying mess on the floor not knowing what to do with this thing inside his chest #(it's called heart silly)

[bsverryin]

: ̗̀➛ Your book/love trope with JJK men

Who?

╰┈➤ Megumi, Toge, Nanami, Gojo, Geto

Headcanon?

╰┈➤ your love trope together as lovers.

✎ they are young in this one, HEADCANON ONLY!!!! Wholesome and really short!! The anime is already too angst i don't want to add up, I don't read the manga I repeat I'm not a manga reader so idk if this is in your likings but I'm trying..I just wanted to try making a jjk headcanon BUT there's still a lot waiting on my notes list this is a remake!! The draft that I worked hard for 🙄 for some reason didn't save so I guess I'll have to do it again sjsjsj, I can't do perfect grammar because I'm in a bad mood shussj I'm trying to finish these for like 10 minutes because I'm sleepy rhrher enjoy!!

: ̗̀➛ MEGUMI

Grumpy X sunshine, you can never read megumi, sometimes when you think he's mad, he's actually happy. And when you think he's happy it's completely the opposite. You didn't know how to make him comfortable and you were panicking all the time whenever he looked unpleased.

Megumi on the hand, thought it was cute seeing you working hard to be his friend who understands him. Sooner or later you found out that Megumi did really like you because of the signs he's been showing. You both walked home together, He buys you gift that you looked fond of, He's also trying to make you happy by him smiling more often to you. It was great to see him like that, you felt really relieved.

: ̗̀➛ TOGE

Friends to lovers you'd always admire toge for his skills. You felt powerful just by knowing he considers you as his friend. You'd always cheer for him too, at first you only thought of him as a friend but as the days and weeks goes by it keeps changing.

Your heartbeat keeps going crazy whenever you're with him, it wasn't just for a friend anymore. When you confessed he was taken aback and couldn't believe it at first he was thinking about how can someone like you like him? You yelled "How could I not?" After that, you straight up yelled all of your confessions to him. He was surprised but he took your hand, it was a sign that he likes you too.

: ̗̀➛ NANAMI

First and last lover, when you met nanami for the first time you thought he was completely a boring guy with no passion, you weren't completely wrong he's just not a fan of things such as feelings or even romance.

But you really wanted to be his friend, not only because he was cool but you wanted to bring out the best of him. You were so persuasive that he lets you do what you want. He was surprised that you confessed to him because he liked you first, he just didn't want to show it. You're both into dating to marry so your story goes just as any love story goes, your love for each other is really that strong.

: ̗̀➛ GETO

Destiny, You and Geto would always meet everywhere. You both cross paths but never had the confidence to talk to each other. The first time you talked to one another is when you overshopped that you had no money left, he wasn't a complete stranger because you met him all the time so he paid for your shopping after that you'd invite him to lunch and meet when your time is free.

Funny to think that both of you ignored fate or destiny before because here you are, asleep in his arms, hugging it like there is no tomorrow. You both would always thank destiny because if it wasn't for you meeting each other, you wouldn't be able to meet someone who loves you. The same goes for Geto.

: ̗̀➛ GOJO

Enemies to lovers, you really despised gojo before because he's always the center of the attention that you couldn't focus on your studies, he would always come out of nowhere. When he tried to talk to you, you glared at him angrily as you avoided any contact that has to do with him, he didn't really hate you but think that you are stubborn and trying to be different or he's just not used to it.

You're talking about your first encounter together as he kept joking about how long you had to act like you didn't want him because despite all those angry glares at him you found him secretly attractive and when he said that to you couldn't even deny it, this man is beautiful inside and out.

#jjk fanfic #jjk imagines #jjk x you #jjk x reader #jjk fluff #jjk headcanons #jujutsu kaisen imagines #jujustu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen headcanons #jujutsu kaisen x you #jujutsu kaisen x reader #jujustu kaisen fluff #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #megumi x reader #megumi fluff #nanami x reader #nanami fluff #geto x reader #geto fluff #toge x reader #toge fluff #megumi fushiguro fluff #inumaki x reader #geto suguru #suguru x reader #suguru fluff #gojo satoru headcanons #megumi headcanons #gojo fluff

[petitprincess1]

Random, but I gotta get this out before me head explodes:

So, I had a dream of how King's Tide would end. Let's say that everything worked as it did, except Collector took away Belos's powers and turned him back into a human. Somehow, during all the madness, Luz and Belos end up getting knocked into the portal. Ofc, it's only there for one trip. The pain of the Draining Spell has already been reversed by the Collector. Luz is panicking and Belos is slightly joyful about being in the Human Realm, but then immediately gets pissed when he realized his work was never done. His staff got pushed inside the portal by Collector, so he uses it again. She tries to persuade him all "Hey, hey! You wouldn't shoot a defenseless, small, teenage....." She then stops when she sees Belos raise an eyebrow at her and dashes off into the woods.

Luz continues running away as Belos chases after her, shooting more of the artificial magic at her as she tries to get away. She goes towards a road and continues to run across it, hoping to lose him. However, everything suddenly becomes slow as a truck begins speeding toward her. Luz simply turns her head towards the headlights and her eyes widen, making her think that her life can't end here. It just can't! Not with everyone suffering in the Demon Realm.

As the truck tries to brake, Luz suddenly levitates and gets pulled back to the side of the road. She breathes heavily as she holds onto whoever's arm is around her and turns to see Belos, staring in complete shock. He doesn't know what else to say except "What is....*that*?" Luz then looks back at the truck as the driver comes out and profusely apologizes to her and her "grandfather". She takes a deep breath and asks Belos "So....still need that guide?"

This is how the two slowly get to know each other and somewhat bond. They get close but in a frenemy kind of way. Like you scratch my back and I'll scratch yours kind of truce. Belos teaches Luz more about the sigils, while Luz teaches Belos about the Earth.

Belos's biases get challenged as he learns more about how Earth has changed and even Luz's gets challenged, as she learns slowly about Belos's past. Even though she does not forgive him, she understands that it's not like her books. It's not nearly as straight and narrow as it is to say someone's evil. There were complexities and reasons for actions, none justifiable but still. It makes things more complicated for her when she realizes that anyone can go down this path.

....Insert people loving Belos's staff and cosplay x3

Idk if ANY of this makes any sense or even is remotely good. But it sounds like fun and a way to get to know a more "human" Belos. He probably would still die in the end, but I feel like it would come from a sense of closure than defeat. Plus, bonus suffering when they get back as he tries to kill Luz once more after the Collector takes over him, but then stops when he sees Caleb's ghost protecting her.

#the owl house #long post #toh headcanon #toh #toh au #luz noceda #philip wittebane #emperor belos #tour guide au