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marble-anime · 2 years ago

Text

Toxic Fan Culture

Pairing: Isaac Foster x Reader

Summary: The infamous serial killer, Isaac Foster, meets someone akin to a fan that would love nothing more than to please their idol.

Disclaimer: Minors DNI

Warnings: mentions of violence, cursing, blowjob, unprotected sex, rough sex, creampie

Word Count: 2.4k

You’ve been down here for days. Weeks? Maybe even months. You weren’t sure. Not getting a beam of sunlight or a breath of fresh air made the days blur together. You didn’t mind though. As long as you were with him it didn’t bother you. You’d heard of him before, everyone had. The rumors of the laughing reaper spread like wildfire. The infamous Isaac Foster. It came as a shock to everyone when the killings ceased, it seemed like he had just up and vanished. Who would’ve thought that all this time he was hiding in the basement of a chapel?

You always wondered what happened to him. You’d walk down dark sketchy alleyways just to see if he’d pop out and grab you. Ever since you were a child you knew to keep your morbid fascinations to yourself. Having been on the receiving end of many distasteful stares as you shared your analyses about different serial killers and what went on in their minds. That paired with your constant, abnormal, state of arousal branded you as a ‘freak’.

Personally, you thought you were completely normal. After all, you’d been this way for as long as you could remember. What else were you supposed to think? Perhaps you watched one too many horror movies as a kid. Or maybe you were just born with a few screws loose. The only downside was that he found you as off-putting and disturbing as everyone else did.

Zack thought you were insane. Normally the sacrifices were terrified from the moment they stepped a foot onto his floor. And rightfully so, being abducted and waking up in an elevator lowering down to a basement that looked like an escape room brought to life.

You were the one exception. Either you were good at hiding your terror or you truly weren’t afraid in the slightest, waltzing out of the elevator as calm and collected as you could be. But that was about to change.

Unbeknownst to you he’d been stalking you as you made your way through his killing grounds, waiting for the right moment to reveal himself. He quickly grew bored of your blank face and hid inside a boarded-up alleyway, listening to the sound of your footsteps getting louder the closer you got. When he heard you on the other side he swung his scythe. Cutting through the boards and almost killing you right then and there.

Your eyes were wide, mouth agape, as you watched the bandaged monster step out of the alley, wooden shards crunching beneath his boots. It was the way he psychotically laughed at your shocked expression that tipped you off.

In your starstruck daze, you reached out to touch him, asking, “You’re Isaac Foster right?”

He pushed you away, suddenly being reminded of an encounter he had similar to this one. A woman reaching out a shaky hand, trying to seduce him into letting her go. Her facade crumbled to dust immediately when he rejected her advances. Although being lied to left a sour taste in his mouth, he couldn’t deny how gratifying it was to cut her up into pieces. And soon your body would be sliced open as you cry and scream for him to stop just like she did.

“I’ll give you till the count of three to run,” he started his usual spiel, holding up three fingers for emphasis. “One.” You just stared at him. Poor thing, he thought sadistically, you must be frozen in fear. “Two.” He raised his scythe. “Three.” You were hit by a gust of wind as the blade cut through the air, stopping only millimeters away from your neck.

“Huh?” His excitement vanished, replaced by confusion. “Why the hell aren’t you runnin’?”

“Hey.” Your fingers grazed the blade, lowering it from your neck as you stared at the man in front of you in awe, “How long have you been hiding down here? And what exactly is this place? Are there more serial killers in this building or just you?”

Frustrated by your curiosity, he threatened to hurt you. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t deter you from asking him anything and everything you could think of. His first instinct was to kill you, especially with that giddy look on your face, but the way you looked at him gave him the creeps.

So he ended up letting you live. It was the same old song and dance every day since then. He would distance himself from you while you constantly pursued him, sometimes even romantically. God, the thought made him want to vomit. How sick in the head were you to want to have a fling with a literal serial killer? Regardless, he had to get rid of you soon or he was gonna lose his mind even more than he already had.

He was lounging on the couch in his room, trying to get some rest when he heard the door open. He groaned, “What now?”

When you didn’t answer he turned his head to look at you. His body went stiff at the sight of you. You hid behind the doorway as you peeked inside the room. Your body was trembling, short breaths escaping your parted lips. You looked terrified. You gasped as your eyes met his and you took off. Almost as if he was possessed, he quickly grabbed his scythe and ran after you.

Adrenaline pumping through his veins, his laugh bouncing off the walls, as he chased you through his floor. You disappeared into the room at the end of the hall and closed the door behind you. Zack slammed his shoulder into the door, nearly knocking it off the hinges. He paused as he entered the room. You didn’t try to run or hide. You just stood there with that fearful expression, batting your eyelashes as you spoke, “Please don’t kill me, sir. I’ll do anything.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” As his head cleared, he realized what you were doing. He gripped the handle of his scythe in anger. “You were faking it?”

“It was the only way to get you to pay attention to me,” you said.

He was seething as you approached him. You shoved him, catching him off guard as his back hit the wall. “Hey!”

“You have a scythe,” you pointed out, pressing your body up against his. “You can stop me if you really want to.”

Zack’s eyes never left you as you leaned in to kiss his lips. He watched you for a moment, not moving a muscle. He didn’t know why he was letting this happen, anyone else would be a red splatter on the pavement. If it weren’t for his pride he might’ve been able to entertain the idea that maybe he enjoyed the way you looked at him. Your eyes filled with adoration like he was your idol, desperate for his attention. Even now, when you touched him you were as gentle as could be, not wanting to hurt him.

Lids fluttering shut, he began to move his lips against yours. Butterflies erupted in your stomach as he kissed back. You hummed in contentment and stood on your toes. The kiss heated up quickly with both of you releasing your pent-up tension. He craned his neck, trying to keep up with you. His hood fell to his shoulders as you ran your hands through his hair. You gasped into each other's mouths for oxygen. He flinched away when he felt your tongue graze his lips.

Looking up at him, you could see the hint of arousal in his heterochromia eyes. Being desired by him made you feel like you were on top of the world. You dropped to your knees and began undoing his pants.

“What are you doing?” he asked, not bothering to stop you.

“Sucking your dick.” You pulled his pants down just enough for his hard cock to spring out. You teased, “Are you always hard when you kill or is this just for me?”

“Shut up,” he spat through gritted teeth as he anxiously awaited your next move.

You kissed from the base of his cock to the tip before taking it into your mouth. “Shit!” The loud clang of the scythe hitting the ground echoed through the room. He fought off a moan, your mouth felt so good. Hollowing your cheeks, you bobbed your head, stroking what you couldn’t fit in your mouth with your hand.

You felt him brush his fingers against your shoulder, not sure where to put his hands. You halted your movements and swirled your tongue around the tip as you grabbed his wrist. You placed his hand on the back of your head, helping him nudge you forward. He quickly picked up on what you were trying to tell him and pushed your head down his cock. He tried to get your lips all the way down to the base, relishing in the sound of you gagging on his dick.

“Fuck.” The tears pooling in your eyes as he violated your throat was doing more for him than it should have. You held eye contact with him as tears ran down your cheeks. You reached a hand up to grab his hip, trying to pull him towards you. He thrusted into your mouth, tangling his bandaged fingers in your hair to get better control of your head. You allowed him to go as fast as he wanted, taking all he had to give. Of course, with Zack being Zack, he set a brutal pace.

Saliva ran down your chin as he violently fucked your face, aggressive grunts and groans leaving his mouth. You gripped his thigh when he shoved his entire cock down your throat, breathing through your nose so you didn’t suffocate. You went to touch his balls but it wasn’t needed, the vibrations from you choking on his cock was enough. Both of his hands held you in place as his salty cum flooded your mouth.

You slurped it down and pulled off his cock, noticing that it was still hard. When you got back on your feet he beat you to the punch. With his hand cradling your face, he pulled you into a deep kiss that had your knees going weak. He lifted you by your thighs and you wrapped your legs around his waist. Without breaking the kiss he walked back to his room and threw you down on the couch.

As you both quickly undressed he warned, “I’ve never really…”

“It’s fine.” You threw your clothes on the ground and stood up. “Just lay down and I’ll guide you through it.”

Zack laid on the couch, completely bare except for the bandages wrapped around his body, and you climbed on top of him. You grabbed his cock, rubbing the tip against your slick pussy. “Ready?”

“Yeah,” he nodded.

You slowly sunk down on his cock until every inch of his was inside you. The air left Zack’s lungs, his jaw dropping at the sensation of your pussy sucking him in. A stunned expression adorning his face, you asked, “You okay?”

He squirmed beneath you, adjusting to the new feeling. “It’s so warm.”

You smiled, placing your hands on his chest and rolling your hips. Zack tried to hold back from cumming right then. In an attempt to distract himself from your velvety walls massaging him, he teased you just as you had done to him, “Do you fuck all serial killers you come across or is it just me?”

Knowing what he was doing, you answered, “Just you,” and began to bounce on his cock. “Damn it.” He knew he wasn't going to last long. Throwing his head back, he tried not to watch your boobs bounce as you fucked yourself on his cock. But you weren’t gonna make it easy for him. “You wanna feel ‘em?” You placed his hand on your breast and, unable to resist, he groped and kneaded your boob. His other hand traced up your voluptuous curves, taking note of how soft your skin was compared to his burned flesh.

“Ah, Zack!” you moaned, reaching down to rub your clit. Your walls clenched around him as his hips bucked into you, hitting your sweet spot. “Keep doing that.”

His hands found their way to your waist, helping you rock back and form as he thrusted up into your warm, wet, cunt. “Just like that.” Feeling his cock twitch inside you and the growls that left his throat, you knew he was close. So you raced to get yourself to the edge before he reached it himself. But honestly, it wasn’t all that hard. As inexperienced as he was, he was still so fucking sexy. And the way he manhandled you earlier left your skin burning with desire.

“Harder.” His nails dug into your flesh, bracing you for what was to come. He pounded his cock into you, leaving you breathless as he used you for his own pleasure. Your moans became irregular and choked up at the feel of his erratic thrust hitting deep inside you. You gasped, body convulsing as your orgasm rippled through you. He gave you one last powerful thrust before emptying his balls deep inside you.

As he lowered his hips, you kept yourself steady by leaning your hands on his torso. “That was amazing.” Zack hummed in response, trying to catch his breath. He was shocked by your next words, “You wanna go another round?”

“You can’t wait five minutes before your tryin’ to bang me again?!” he asked, his cock was still sensitive from your previous activities.

“I just love sex,” you shrugged. “If you could kill people all day then wouldn’t you?”

“Duh,” he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world.

“Well that's what it's like with me,” you explained, “just with sex instead of murder.”

He frowned at your flushed face as he contemplated it in his head. Damn you, he thought, you were still looking at him with that loving expression. Sighing, he said, “Give me ten minutes and we can go again.”

“Yay!” you cheered.

You grabbed a blanket that was hanging off of the armrest and used it to cover you both. Zack grimaced when you placed sweet kisses on his chest. “The hell are you doing that for?”

“I’m giving you affection.” You cuddled into him, looking up at him with big doe eyes.

“Gross.” He closed his eyes, letting you hold him close as you both rested. Maybe keeping you around for a while wouldn’t be such a bad idea. “Do it again.”

#isaac foster x reader #isaac foster smut #angels of death x reader #angels of death smut #zack foster x reader #zack foster smut

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okchijt · 2 years ago

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could you do an yandere alphabet with zack foster? thanks <3

Author's Note: Thank you so much Anon for the request! I actually finished both the manga, the game, and the anime not too long ago, so I hope I do a good job here! Zack is one of my favorite anime characters so I hope I do him justice or else this will be embarrassing 😅 And lastly, go ahead and check out my masterlist if you like what you just read and if you want to request anything yourself, thank you and enjoy! ❤

Issac "Zack" Foster -> Yandere Alphabet

Affection: How do they show their love and affection? How intense would it get?

Zack has never felt the urge to show affection to anyone, nor did he ever receive it. The subject is foreign to him so he never even thought about it, that is until he met you. Surprisingly affection from Zack is delicate at first, viewing you as some fragile object that he can easily break, making him gentle with you at first. As your relationship grows he will become more desperate and intense, no longer holding you as gently as before. He'll press you hard against his chest as he entangles you in his limbs, hiding you away from the world, enjoying having you all to himself.

Blood: How messy are they willing to get when it comes to their darling?

Is that even a question nobody knows the answer to? He obviously will, before he met you he was always bloody, and during a relationship with you he will continue to get messy if he wants/needs to. Especially now that Zack has you he might even seek it out more, wanting to eliminate the competition immediately.

Cruelty: How would they treat their darling once abducted? Would they mock them?

Maybe, the most Zack will do is whine about you being too loud for him and to "shut up". However, the more you keep your act up the more irritated he gets and besides raising his voice at you he might start mocking you just to enforce the point that if you don't settle down, things will only get worse.

Darling: Aside from abduction, would they do anything against their darling’s will?

Depends. If it's NSFW stuff, then that's a no. Everything else is essentially fair game though. Zack's gonna force you to do a lot of things if it's for the sake of your health even if you don't want to out of rebellion. You will be forced to eat, wash, clothe yourself, etc. Zack doesn't want you dying on him, so you ain't getting out of this one unwillingly. The same can be said with affection, there is no way you're strong enough to push him away so if Zack wants to hold you or kiss you, he will. Doesn't matter how hard you manage to fight back, you're his and he will eventually get his way.

Exposed: How much of their heart do they bare to their darling? How vulnerable are they when it comes to their darling?

Never, Zack won't dare to show you even a lick of weakness to you. Maybe while he's sleeping you'll catch him mumbling about something in his past, but that's all you're gonna get because you'll never hear or witness being vulnerable willingly.

Fight: How would they feel if their darling fought back?

He'd find it slightly amusing at first, before quickly changing his mind seeing that you're being serious and telling you to knock it off. Even though Zack is a big strong guy, he would never use his strength to hurt you. Instead, if you continue to dismiss his orders he'll either lock you somewhere to come down and keep you there until you do or physically hold you down or against something until your tantrum is over, all the while telling you to calm down.

Game: Is this a game to them? How much would they enjoy watching their darling try to escape?

No. Zack only plays games with his victims, but you're not prey to him, you are much more than that. Nothing makes Zack angrier than you getting away from him, he'll instantly go berserk, destroying everything in his path just to get you back, and he won't stop until that happens. Once he has you back he'd lock you up somewhere for as long as it takes him to calm down, which we all know will take hours if not days for Zack to do so. Making you rethink each time if escape is really worth it cause even after calming down he'll be harsher to you than usual, and that won't be fun either. Though that will pass with time too.

Hell: What would be their darling’s worst experience with them?

Witnessing him slaughter people. Zack doesn't really care if you see him commit the crime or not, he doesn't think it's that big of a deal, at least for him. Zack would be so confused upon witnessing your horror over the situation, he doesn't get it and then is massively insensitive about it, making you even more terrified of him and his lack of human compassion and morality.

Ideals: What kind of future do they have in mind for/with their darling?

Definitely not marriage or kids, because let's face it, with him being a killer and his immaturity, none of those things are logically happening, he won't even consider them. All Zack wants is to just have you with him by his side forever, that's all he needs.

Jealousy: Do they get jealous? Do they lash out or find a way to cope?

Indeed he does. When Zack is jealous he lashes out at the person who made him feel this way. You're his and he won't let anybody take you away from him. Zack somehow becomes even more angry and violent when jealous, how dare someone try to take you away from him he will make sure their death will be as painful as possible. Once he is done with his tantrum, Zack will act cold but possessive with you. He'd barely speak to you and only curse under his breath as he holds you in any way possible, reminding himself and you about who you actually belong to.

Kisses: How do they act around or with their darling?

Honestly, Zack would act as his normal usual self around you. The only difference is his lack of urge to harm you in any way, instead wanting to keep you safe and sheltered from the world. There's also his overprotectiveness of you, you come first in any situation so Zack will go overboard for you every time just to keep you safe. You can argue he'd be the same as with Rachel, the difference being that anything involving you is taken by Zack 100% even more seriously. Heck, he'd even try his hand at being nicer and gentler with you because of how much you matter to him. Other than everything that involves you, he's still the same old Zack.

Love letters: How would they go about courting or approaching their darling?

Zack doesn't even think of a plan about how to approach you, he'd approach you like any other victim of his, but with the lack of trying to kill you of course. Even if you try to run Zack will catch up and try one last time to be "nice" and "patient" with you, wanting you to come with him willingly as that would be easier for him. If you still refuse, understandably so, Zack will either knock you out or forcefully drag you to his hiding spot/where he lives and no amount of screaming or protesting will get you out of this one.

Mask: Are their true colors drastically different from the way they act around everyone else?

Not at all. Like I said before, outside of a few differences, especially with the ones involving you, Zack acts exactly the same. He's just more gentler and caring towards you compared to other people. But like I said, there's barely any difference between his normal self and his yandere self.

Naughty: How would they punish their darling?

The only punishment you'd ever get is isolation or more rights being taken away. Zack would never physically harm you, so he'd use other methods to reinforce the point that you are punished. As mentioned before, Zack will lock you away inside an empty room for as long as it takes for him to calm down or feel like you've learned your lesson. When it comes to rights, Zack will just limit the amount of freedom you had before or will take stuff away from you for a period of time that keeps you entertained. He'd discipline you as if you were a child, and even though that may feel dehumanizing, it's not Zack's outright intent to make you feel that way. It's just his only way of punishing you without actually laying his hands/weapon on you.

Oppression: How many rights would they take away from their darling?

Only the ones that personally threaten, Zack. For example, never go anywhere without him near you. No weapons near you are allowed, for your safety and his. The only human contact as well as interaction is with him only, nobody is allowed to be as close to you as he is, the only exception is Rachel. Basically, the only rights that are taken away from you or are at least limited are the ones where you would have a chance of escaping or hurting Zack, other than that Zack doesn't care how you spend your time. As long as you aren't going against his rules he's fine.

Patience: How patient are they with their darling?

Zack is not a patient person, at all, I think we all know that. That being said, when it comes to you he tries his best to be more patient. Sure at some point he will snap and throw a little tantrum, but he'll be far more careful about it than with anyone else, always keeping in mind not to accidentally hurt you. He'd try to be gentle with his yelling at you, trying not to be as harsh as he usually would be with everyone else, but even that's hard for him. Only for you does he try to be somewhat nicer even when he's being mean.

Quit: If their darling dies, leaves, or successfully escapes, would they ever be able to move on?

Not sure, it depends on the scenario. If you somehow escaped him then be prepared to be forever on the run cause he is coming. You have been claimed by Zack as his and that means no matter where you go he's right behind you. Zack would never give up in trying to find you, he'd destroy everything and everyone in his path if he had to, anything to have you by his side again. But if you die, Zack would completely shut himself out emotionally, he'd be a sad shell of his former self. Forever angry and miserable, he would not be able to move on from that, only becoming even worse and more violent of a killer, wanting the world to feel his anger by slaughtering people because that's all Zack would have left. He'd add couples to his list of people he would kill, the sight of happy couples too much for him to handle after losing you. After all, if he can't have you, then nobody else can have that form of happiness that was taken away from him.

Regret: Would they ever feel guilty about abducting their darling? Would they ever let their darling go?

Nope! Guilt and Zack? Never! There is no guilt or even a thought of ever letting you go in his head, ever. It's not like Zack thinks he's justified or that he's doing the right thing, but there's no way in hell that will stop him from having you if that's what he wants. As far as Zack's concerned your place belongs with him and that alone is enough for him to not think twice about taking you.

Stigma: What brought about this side of them (childhood, curiosity, etc)?

Curiosity is definitely a part of it. At first, you were supposed to be another one of his victims, but as he stalked you, observed your actions, and got to see your personality and how attractive you were. Zack didn't even mind your smile, heck, you could even say he liked it! It all frustrated him so much, that he could not understand this feeling! The longer he followed you the less he found himself wanting to kill you, but to keep you. So every day he would find you by chance just to watch you, to understand why you gave him this annoying sting in his chest. Zack was so scared and angry for feeling this way for you at first, it made him feel so weak. All he could think about was having you, and that's what ultimately pushed him into making you his whether you wanted to or not.

Tears: How do they feel about seeing their darling scream, cry, and/or isolate themselves?

Seeing and hearing you so vulnerable gives Zack an unwanted sting in his chest. He feels both irritated and worried, just wanting you to stop and calm down. At first, Zack would ignore you, thinking you'll get it out of your system without his help, but the longer you go on the more he feels does annoying emotions. He'd finally snap and tell you to stop, his tone and words harsh but his actions the absolute opposite, gentle and sweet. Pulling you into his arms as he continues to tell you to shut it as he pats your head and runs his other arm up and down your back, in an attempt to soothe you. He'll stay like that with you as long as it takes for you to calm down, absolutely giving you mixed signals unintentionally with his opposite intentions of helping you.

Unique: Would they do anything different from the classic yandere?

Zack will still happily kill people even if they're not in his way in regards to you. Whereas most other yandere's kill out of necessity for their darling, Zack doesn't need that type of excuse and just kills whenever he pleases, even if it doesn't involve you in the slightest.

Vice: What weakness can their darling exploit in order to escape?

His immense anger. When Zack enters his temper tantrum, he always makes sure not to be in your vicinity to not accidentally hurt you. You can use that time to escape, but like I said before, Zack will eventually catch on that you're gone and will immediately run after you. No matter how far or long you run, he will always catch up to you and bring you back.

Wit’s end: Would they ever hurt their darling?

Not on purpose. Zack would never hurt you physically, but even though he never intends to hurt you emotionally, he does it sometimes without even realizing it. He may raise his voice at you and use harsh words a lot, this man has no filter and is still learning what isn't offensive or is sensitive for you so he may make you cry or angry sometimes without meaning to.

Xoanon: How much would they revere or worship their darling? To what length would they go to win their darling over?

I don't think there would be any worship in the relationship. He's not that obsessed with you to actually worship you. Zack loves you on a yandere level, sure, but he won't kiss the ground you walk on, he'd just treat you with more care than a normal person, is all.

Yearn: How long do they pine after their darling before they snap?

As established before, Zack is not a patient man by any means and will at most take him a few days to a week before he snaps and just takes you. The fact he just doesn't take you immediately says something because it means he wanted to study you first to understand this strange feeling you make him feel. Wanting to figure out first if it's just him wanting to kill you, or a new unknown feeling entirely.

Zenith: Would they ever break their darling?

Not on purpose. Zack would never intend to actually do that, but I can see that happening, depending on how well your mental health will handle the situation of being, loved by an obsessive killer that kills on the regular while having him and maybe Rachel as the only human contact you can get with a poor living situation. So it depends on the person, but I feel like most people would not be able to handle something like this after a while if not immediately, and break.

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bakugokemkatsuki · 1 year ago

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Zack Foster (Angels of Death) X Reader

~Warning:Dark Topics (ie murder/attempted), cussing

~NOT FLUFF

His manic laughter echoed through your head. The look of pure insanity in his eyes, as he’s running toward you scythe out ready to cut you. You jolted up right in your bed as sweat beaded down your face. Your heart was beating what felt like a million miles a second and you were breathing heavily, panting out of breath. You quickly flip the light on next to you and look around the room. Of course, it’s safe. Your home. You made it out of that hell hole but the trauma it caused you life long affects. You had almost been killed by Zack while you were in there. This left you to jump at the slightest noises and become so scared of sharp objects and the color brown that it made life very difficult at times. You could hardly leave the house without having a break down. You swear you saw him everywhere, and yet at the same time you didn’t. You kept trying to convince yourself it was your mind playing tricks on you. That’s all. You cuddled up dimming the light but not turning it off as you calmed yourself. You were almost asleep when you heard it the door shut on its own. You shot up and immediately looked only to see him staring at you. You were so scared you couldn’t move you couldn’t scream, nothing. You were completely frozen in fear. “I told you I’d find you doll. Time for me to cut you open”…

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inkstainedpages · 2 years ago

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alright, so, I’m actually sorta nervous to ask this but-

Can I request Zack from Angels of Death with an S/O like Wanderer/Scaramouche from Genshin?

Can this is before he met Ray, like he was killing people and then the S/O comes and sees this and only looks curious and so they approach Zack, who’s looking at them confused.

I don’t know much of what I’m expecting, which is why I’m asking you of this. If you don’t want to, you don’t have to, I just randomly thought of this and didn’t know where to go with this.

(though, if you do end up doing this request, maybe add some headcanons of how they go into a relationship and how it works-please???)

OhmyGod I'm so so sorry I haven't been active on this account broski

Also I'm gonna split this in two parts,The first when they meet reader is more like scara,and when they get closer into a relationship reader becomes more like wanderer.I hope you liek this

Zack Foster (Angels of Death)

x Scaramouche (Genshin) GN!Reader

How you first met~✩

"What are you doing?"

Your voice was loud and your head was held high.Your stare was blank and straight as your gaze pierced through his wide eyes.

His clothes were stained of blood,and so were his hands.Bloody corpses laid by his feet.He turned around fully to face you properly with a maniacal grin.

"What?do you want to be next?"

You furrowed your brows at him,taking a few steps closer to him.You came to a halt at your feet were by the pooling blood of his victims.

You hummed,looking down at the fallen below you.

"Why must you have to let them endure such suffering before you end them completely?"

Your calmness and stoic expression put him off,not really all that shocking to him since he's seen a few people come and try to intimidate him.But they mostly back off,scrambling away as soon as he starts threatening them.

He could sense the fear coming from them even from the start,

But you

You didn't emit any sort of feeling.

No fear,no disgust,not even warmth.

He wondered if you even have emotion like a normal human,if you could truly feel remorse for the corpses laid Infront of you.

"Because they deserve it"

He simply said,in reality,he didn't know.He didn't know why he enjoyed seeing others in pain.He couldn't understand himself.And he didn't seem to want to.

He wanted to understand you before he could understand himself.

"oh?why do you say so? What have they done?"

He fell silent.Staring at you with dark eyes.Eyes that weren't able to shut and let him sleep for days.

He walked off,walking pass you and the bodies.But you quickly stood back up to come after him.

You were quite the persistent one,even when he told you multiple times to back off or mind your own business.You just kept bugging.

"Go to hell with your endless questions"

"But I really must know,you intrigued me very muc-"

"Go away already,won't ya?"

"no thank you.As I was sayi-"

He couldn't escape you at this point,and in all honesty,he really didn't want to.With every passing stupid question you asked,you peaked his curiosity more and more.Until he stopped shooing you away like a fly.

And before you knew it,you got to know each other more,even daring to say you became something near friends.He would never admit to that,of course.

Zack Foster (Angels of Death) x Wanderer (Genshin) GN!reader

Relationship Headcannons~✩

You tend to show much more emotion now that you've became closer

He might not admit he may have catched feelings for you (he never will)

There's only been a few moments of you genuinely smiling at him.And his brain photographed each memory.

Speaking of how he'll never admit his feelings for you,you'll have to be the one who confesses and he'll just go "yeah I liked you too"

If you actually get into a relationship with him,all I can saw is good luck

He's a lot more rowdy now,his ego got boosted 3x since you actually liked him back.He's got a new feat to shove in other people's faces now.

Sometimes you'd have to stop him from going on crazy killing rampages.You don't really care much about the fact he's a psychotic serial killer,but it concerns you how he can go on gove on the same day.

Your now boyfriend needs serious help

Honestly you both do

Your tired already but are willing to get even more tired for his sake

Either way he's protective over you and isn't a big fan of PDA.

Maybe the occasional hug and kiss on the cheek but it doesn't go more than that.

Behind closed doors,he's hella clingy.

Sometimes,he won't even let go.

Maybe he got a bit too attached..

#angels of death x reader #angels of death #zack #isaac foster #zack x reader #isaac foester x reader #x reader #fanfic #scaramouche #wanderer

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universallychaoticpan · 1 year ago

Note

Hey! Can I request some comfort/fluff with Isaac foster and a transmale reader going through a PTSD episode related to a fire? If not just some issac and transmale reader fluff please -🐍

I'm sorry if this isn't entirely what you were expecting, but I hope you enjoy this attempt to get back into writing- and thank you always for your patience and support.

Issac was not comforting by nature.

It simply wasn't who he was. Any reasonable person could see why- abused, left alone in the world, seen as a monster...well, there was not short list of reasons why he was the way he was.

But that didn't mean he didn't care.

Actually, despite how much it enraged him at times, despite how annoying it was, he cared about you.

You were...tolerable. Yeah. Tolerable. Between you, the creepy doctor, and the little necrophiliac, he'd pick you every time. He liked you- you could make him laugh, you went along with and stoked his 'creative flare' (which most of the time meant being creepy little shits together.) But he liked you a lot; as much as he might like too, he couldn't deny that.

He knew you better than anyone. Given the limited company you both kept, the competition wasn't exactly stiff, but hey, it had to count for something. It had taken him months to remember things like your favorite color or foods, but one thing he never forgot was that you were like him:

Fire was the one thing that could stop you cold in your tracks.

Now, he never asked too many questions about it. It was another thing he appreciated about you: the two of you had an odd understanding that stories were hard. The past was painful enough without dredging it up all the time, so the two of you never felt the need or desire to dig too deep. He didn't know why you hated fire- he didn't need to know.

All he knew was that the one person in the world he could admit to caring for was staring off into space with glassy eyes so far away, you could've been in another universe entirely.

Isaac Foster was not comforting by nature, but sometimes he wished he was, if only for your sake.

He didn't have the words to comfort you; there was nothing he could say that would bring you back to earth. But he stayed with you as you sat in the grimy hallways of the nightmarish complex you called home, stayed close, scythe nearby in a constant promise of protection. He would protect you- he had your back. You knew that just like you knew your name, your real name, or that the sky was blue the last day you'd seen it. He stayed with you and you were grateful- it really was simple as that at times. He brushed soot and ash from your cropped hair, muttering about needing to cut your hair again soon. He talked to himself, filling the silence, never once forcing you to pick up the silences. Issac did what no one in your life did before him- he stayed.

Issac Foster was not a comforting person by nature. But when he looked at your sleeping face, finally peaceful, he wondered if he could ever be something different.

He wondered if he could change if it was for you.

#issac foster x reader #angels of death x reader

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plumcherrries · 4 months ago

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About me ❦.

Greetings lovelies I’m Lilybeth call me which ever you’d like, I’m over 18 so mdi!

I’m obsessed with almost every show and game there is but my top favs are Fnaf, COD, Junji Ito, Demon slayer, etc (check the hashtags)

This blog is for funsies btw

Open to be mutals ꨄ︎

Ps. I love fanfics and may write some in the future 🫦

#micheal afton #yellowstone x reader #call of duty x reader #grotesquerie #pjo fandom #god of war #silent hill #william afton x reader #voltron #angels of death x reader #ayesha ericota #american horror story #demon slayer #helluva boss #junji ito #hotd #game of thrones #gravity falls

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junkratswifey · 2 years ago

Note

can you please write Daniel Dickens x trans male reader smut, could you also please make reader the dominant one? Thank you

DANNY????? UHHH, YEAHHH???

Also idk if you meant before or after bottom surgery, so I'm doing after just that way I don't confuse myself if I continue editing while I'm high/drunk 😭

Uhhh like not really warnings but "containing": Praise, degrading, begging, crying, swearing, usage of "slvt"

Danny exhaled deeply, his face a beautiful shade of red. Y/N gently touched him, teasing every inch of him.

"Y–Y/N.."

"Yes, Danny?"

He put his fist near his mouth, biting it. He whimpered muffled swears. "Please..."

Y/N bit his lip, smirking.

"Please, f..uck me.."

Y/N chuckled quietly in a deep tone. "Is that what you want?"

Danny nodded, putting his fist down whilst panting like a dog.

"Are you gonna be a good boy for me?"

Danny nodded, slight whimpers of "mhm" coming out of his mouth.

"Do you wanna beg for it, my sweet, stupid, slutty doctor?"

Danny moaned loudly. He was a sucker for being degraded, and Y/N knew it.

"Yes...yes, please! Please, f-fuck me! Please, please!!"

Y/N stopped smiling. "What's my name?"

Danny bit his lip, "Haa, ah, M-Master...please! I'll be a good boy, such a good boy for you, please!"

Y/N gently stroked Danny's hair, slowly removing both of their clothes.

Danny groaned as Y/N's hot breath grazed his neck.

He repeated, "Please, please, please," over and over while his mouth turned dry.

Y/N smiled, kissing his neck. "Look at you down here. Are you really that turned on?"

Danny didn't reply.

"I asked you a question," Y/N said, demandingly.

Danny nodded. "Yes-Y-yes, p-please..."

Y/N carefully slid his hand down Danny's stomach, pausing right before his waist.

"Wh-what are you..doing?"

"Beg," Y/N said, his eyes filled with pure lust.

Danny's eyes began to well up with tears. "P-please!! I can't beg a-anymore! Please just, use your h-hand...haah..."

Y/N smiled, finally moving down.

IM SORRY FOR THE CLIFFHANGER I WANNA LEAVE IT TO YOUR IMAGINATION

#Daniel Dickens #angels of death x reader #aod x reader #Danny Dickens #Danny Dickens x reader #Danny x reader

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hail-ey-m · 2 years ago

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є∂ωαя∂ мαѕση--ℓєƒт συт

Relationship: Romantic

!!TW: None!!

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

Y/n

Hi! I've been meaning to send you at least one letter a day so we can keep in close contact but I was very busy yesterday so sorry about that!

Anyways, I thought a lot about what you wrote in your last letter, and I'm glad to know you trust me enough to confide in me with your troubles.

From what I understand, you feel as if you are being left out? I'm very sorry to hear that, and I want you to know that no matter what, you will always have me.

Even if it feels like nobody else in the world wants to include you, that's their loss! I can speak from experience, you are an amazing person and I'm so glad to have met you.

I also want you to know that in no way are you alone. I know when things get rough it's easy to feel that way, but I will always be here for you.

I think I count as someone, right?

I understand how it feels, being afraid to lose someone. I know it all too well actually. Because the person I am afraid of losing is you.

So just... keep that in mind for future reference, k? :)

Love,

Eddie ♡

-ˋˏ✄┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈┈

#anime comfort #spotify #anime x gender neutral reader #comfort character #comfort letter #comfort #angels of death #edward mason #eddie mason #angels of death x reader #eddie mason x reader

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skelletonscloset · 2 years ago

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ೃ࿐ fandom list ೃ࿐

༊*·˚anime

: ̗̀➛ Demon Slayer

: ̗̀➛ Fruits Basket

: ̗̀➛ Howl’s Moving Castle

: ̗̀➛ JoJo’s Bizarre Adventure

: ̗̀➛ Ouran High School Host Club

: ̗̀➛ Spy x Family

: ̗̀➛ The Case Study of Vanitas

༊*·˚ games

: ̗̀➛ Call of Duty (MW2)

: ̗̀➛ Dead by Daylight

: ̗̀➛ Genshin Impact

: ̗̀➛ Mystic Messenger

: ̗̀➛ Obey Me! (+Nightbringer!)

: ̗̀➛ Resident Evil (all original/remake games)

: ̗̀➛ Red Dead Redemption 2

: ̗̀➛ The Wolf Among Us

: ̗̀➛ Love&Deepspace

-🧸

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daemontargaryennn · 1 year ago

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DOES ANYONE WRITE FOR ANGELS OF DEATH???

#joey talks!#angels of death #angels of death x reader

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daylighted · 5 months ago

Text

ㅤㅤㅤㅤㅤ𝐋𝐈𝐅𝐄 𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐎 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇.

ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤㅤㅤㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ㅤ ━ㅤ ㅤ dean winchester.

the tale of the king of hell and the sweet angel with flowers in her hair.

a hades & persephone retelling through the veiled, handcrafted lens of demon!dean and angel!reader, addressed as persephone, fem pronouns.

content warnings. sexual implications and elusions. that's it lol it's relatively tame!

word count. 6.1k

the woods were always a safe space for him. they existed in every location on the mortal plane; some big, some small, some haunting, some inviting. it brought him great comfort that something could be so vast and sometimes vitriolic and still be loved and adorned by someone by the likes of her.

she was the manifestations of everything innocent. she was a daydream; wisps of wind carrying flower petals of creams and teals, of pinks and violets. all of which stemmed from the plucked flowers tangled and vined in her hair.

she was always alone, this girl of flowers. dropped down from heaven itself, he knew ━ in the same way that he knew her woods were the big, inviting kind. inviting to everyone but himself.

the underworld was dark and icy, so cold sometimes that blue flames licked upon skin and burned it raw, frostbite staining each orifice blue in its wake. but here, with her, it was always so warm. he did not understand the phrase burn in hell when all he wanted, really, was to burn with her.

he watched her for a long time. every day, the same spot, all by her lonesome. he could see her wings even as they were tucked beneath the skin of her shoulder blades, her entire being painted in an innocence that longed to be scorned.

in the end, it was not him that approached her, but rather her that approached him. cream colored fabric caught in the pollen-scented air that wafted through the branches and got caught in the leaves. strands of her hair tangled in front of her eyes, petals dancing behind her like a trail of pure magic.

"what is it that you long for?" she asked him, and it was such a strange question, such a strange scenario. a creature made of darkness and corruption and everything vile did not often get asked what it was that they longed for, and it was even less often that such things that they wanted were women with buried themselves in flower fields and made friends with the bees.

as such, he did not answer her. he chose to bypass her question entirely and take it upon himself to ask her something. his hand reaches out to grasp a stray petal from the silky hive that was her hair. "it is not smart to approach strangers in secluded places."

"it is hardly secluded," she said as fast, her lips forming a soft 'o' as she blew the delicate magenta petal from his two fingers. "no part of the woods is ever solitary."

she is naive, he thinks, and the naive ones are always the most fun. but there is a part of him that does not long to break her spirit, so long as he can instead nurture it and make it grow. if he was capable of such things. "i suppose you mean the creatures that lurk in the bushes?"

"the wind," she corrects, her head tilting up to absorb the impact of it. again, it tosses her hair, knocks the flower petals woven in the strands loose. her silken dress is one with the wind itself, the fabric catching the gusts and bottling them as it dances in its fingers. "it carries secrets, if you listen close enough to hear them."

and he could not help himself. "what does the wind tell you of me?"

her head tilts to the side. his world, spun on its axis, watching him right back. "that we are alike."

she could not be more wrong. she was made of clouds and goodness, constructed in the very nature of virtue. he was of sin and shadows, dark and broken, feasting off of the innocence that she radiated like a pheromone. he opens his mouth to say so, but she does not let him.

"i know you are not of this world," she continues, slowly, as if she's convinced that this is information that should frighten him that she knows; not something that intrigues him greatly. "like i imagine you know that of me, too."

he does not give a solid answer, but the slightest quirk of his lips is enough to bring a flicker of mischief into her eyes. "what is it like?"

what a peculiar question from a girl made of stardust and glitter, drawing every bit of light toward her like a beacon. he could not play naive to this, or act innocent in the terms of her question, because she had already taken those roles and embodied them perfectly.

"dark," he says, leaning ever-so-slightly closer with each word, "foreboding. lifeless."

he expects that word to drown her spirits. he expects to see the hope floating away in the river's stream, swallowed whole as it glittered beneath the water's surface. instead, she sparkles brighter, her smile wider. "do you believe in fate?"

he balks. "i believe in nothing at all."

"perhaps you should take me there," she says, tugging the loose petals from her hair and letting them rain on the grass. she still looks as wild and free as ever, perhaps even more so, without the reins of life and nature holding her back. "and i will give you something to believe in."

try as she might, it was all for naught. he believed in her so desperately already that he might as well be the drowning thing in the river. perhaps that was why it did not glitter at all.

she called herself persephone, and she called him dean, though that was not what the servants of the underworld and the demons beneath him called him. they called him hades ━ master of cruelty, harbinger of the dead.

it meant justice, where she was from, high above in the clouds with the other things crafted from perfection and innocence. it was not a name out of love, but one out of duty. he told himself this, because there was no chance that someone like her could ever reach into his heart and cradle it between her palms.

persephone had a room, closest to his, and he hated to admit that he considered locking it with a chain every night, lest she realize her mistake and want to go back to her life of oak trees and soft-petaled flowers.

but the heavy door never nudged in the days that she stayed alongside him, and the darkness seemed to hold its breath around her.

"does it not get dreary?" persephone asks upon waking up, her eyes glittering so brightly in the bleak underworld that she stood out like the beacon he believed her to be. always calling him to her.

dean's eyebrows raise a fraction. her mind formulates thoughts that she does not share, until her mouth splits open to speak questions he does not know the context of. "is death not supposed to be dreary?"

he is very good at giving her the answers she does not want. her lips contort into a blatant frown, puffed in a pout of rose petals, and her eyebrows furrow like aggravated caterpillars on her face. "it is a necessity in the life cycle. all things necessary are beautiful."

"you are a dreamer, persephone," he says dismissively, because there's an odd feeling warming his cheeks and the back of his neck. warmth. how odd it was to feel warmth that didn't scald or burn, but soothed. "i await the day that your dreams shatter to pieces."

the pout deepens. angry pink petals curled downward enough to wrinkle her smooth skin. "that is an awful thing to say."

"i would pick up every shard," dean interrupts, their eyes finally locking, "and i would put them back together, no matter how long it takes."

"i have many dreams, dean."

dean does not back down, still. "and i have many centuries."

their stares do not falter. they hold and they hold, like hands tightly woven together in secret, clutching like they might be ripped apart at any point. dean was certain nothing could take persephone from him now, what with how desperate he was for the life she brought.

"your world is cold," she says simply after what feels like eternities in of itself, "and incapable of fostering life."

an astute observation. the words fell from her lips with icy breaths punctuating between them. "i did warn you," he speaks slowly, like this time it is she that needs to have it explained to her, "that this was not a place for angels like you."

he did not warn her of such directly, no. but is scaring off someone and warning someone not the same?

"i am not the life that needs fostered," she waves her hand, her eyes dancing around her surroundings mindlessly. the blackstone countertops of his housing chambers, the metal chairs that did nothing but breed discomfort. all of it was dysfunctional ━ display pieces, in a way, so that he may feel an ounce of humanity again in his dead soul.

her finger reaches out to poke his chest. firm in her movements and her judgements. "it is you." persephone's chin tilts up in her defiant arrogance. "and how lucky you are to have me to guide you."

dean forgot, in his haste to keep persephone, that other people were capable of loving her just as vehemently as he did. it was only a matter of time before something went awry in your absence, and people began to wonder where the angel dusted in pollen and petals had floated away to.

he just did not expect it to be so soon.

a month passes, and suddenly his home is littered in gold. she is a radiant light, everything she touches bursts into life ━ and so the dark home that he'd come to know, with its dim sconces and brooding towers, has become one with light through the gaps of the windows. fresh candles that smell like daisies and lavender are placed in the caged sconces.

maybe he should be angry that she is turning his kingdom of darkness into something so alive. but all dean has ever wanted was a touch of life, and not so much death. it was something that he only began to crave when he spotted her in the woods, surrounded by living things that responded to her touch.

there is an angel at his door, and it is not the one he wishes for.

he senses it like a sixth sense; something amiss in his territory. the wind before a storm, twisting and twisting and setting everything off balance. and the silence is unlike anything he's heard before, in a place as damnable as his home.

dean exits his room with his spine rigid, booted steps heavy on the hollow stone. acts like this are not taken lightly. acts so disrespectful are met with wings hung over his throne, bloodied muscle still attached to their delicate bones.

"persephone," the angel says from the center of his throne room, without turning over their shoulder to look at him. another act of disrespect. "is... where?"

dean's steps echo in the empty room as he circles the angel. predator and prey. neither of which give any indication on who they believe the other to be, in that manner. "is none of your concern."

"you have taken an angel from a place of life and virtue and thrown her into a dungeon of death and decay," the angel snaps back at him, their teeth bared in a harsh snarl. their true form threatens beneath the surface of the vessel they wear. down here, it is much harder to keep up appearances. "it is obvious that it is our concern."

the idea of persephone being locked away sent his stomach churning. how dare anyone think that he would ever try and stifle her light? not when she is cultivating her craft and turning his home into something that is alive.

dean drops into the throne in the center of the room. flames lick to life at the first contact between him and the granite. the angel does not falter at the sight, and dean's jaw ticks because of it. "if you think she is unsafe, find her."

the angel's eyes narrow. "is this a game to you?"

"i guarantee it is not." how could he ever imagine this situation as a game, when the very root of his life is being threatened to be stolen back from him? "find her."

dean knows where she is. in her room, across the narrow hallway from his. her door is shut, but he could smell the flickering flames smelting in her fireplace, warming her from the underworld's pitch black coldness. dean knows she is safe, writing on the parchment he'd gotten for her, detailing her days and thoughts into permanence.

the angel flickers away, out of his sight. dean is left alone with his own thoughts. his, he does not want to memorialize. his stay in the creeping corners of his mind, tucked away to keep his persephone safe. not that he did not believe she could handle a little darkness; she was the one that asked him to come here, after all.

it feels like an eternity that the angel is gone. dean fears, in the very depths of his soul, that they have taken her without a warning or a trace. he'd burn them. all of them. he'd take their wings and decorate the halls of his kingdom with their feathers. he'd . . .

flickering into view is the angel, with persephone clutched between their grip. her face is contorted into that fiery expression he'd come to expect from her, defiance born in her very blood.

it was no wonder that the angels wanted to leash her. she was not like them. she was composed of flame and fury, and radiated it like she was the sun itself. dean was always so captivated by her, but it was times like this when he could not look away.

"what have you done to her?" the angel tosses the accusation dean's way like the words sicken them. again, their true form flickers just behind their eyes. at least dean was a beast that wore his skin without the skin of a lamb atop of it.

dean's fingers steeple beneath his chin. "explain."

"she does not want to come back." the angel's eyes narrow onto him, unspoken allegations swimming in their expression. "there is no reason that someone so full of life would want to bury their feet into the death and darkness of your home."

it is selfish that his heart swells at those words. does not want to leave his home. his initial worries that he would have to say goodbye to her melt away like the ice frosting over his stone walls.

"that is not true," persephone interjects, and dean stills. waits for the clarification on what wasn't true. "i do want to go home."

they say that if you love something, you must let it go. dean did not understand it. never before had he loved anything, and the prospect of releasing this precious jewel to the real world has him feeling like he's about to burst from his skin. how was he supposed to let her go? how was he supposed to . . .

panic flares the fire surrounding his throne, his fists curled into tight balls against his palms. "then you may leave."

persephone's expression shifts, her eyes flicking over to dean. hurt mares that beautiful face, her eyebrows furrow deeply, valleys between them, lines burnt into the stone. "you do not listen."

"you have made it clear," dean cannot keep the hurt from his own voice, either, "that is what you want."

it was foolish for someone like him to be irate that someone like her did not want to be around him. persephone were gold and he was ash; she were fire and he was stone.

but perhaps he'd grown used to having someone lively around amongst all of this death. perhaps the prospect of her being in his space had begun to feel less like an invasion and more like laws of nature.

death could not exist without life. life could not continue without death. it was as natural for him to crave persephone like the moon longed for the sun.

"i want choice," persephone says loudly, her voice carrying throughout the hollow throne room. "i want to not be contained."

dean straightens in his seat. "and have you felt that i've been containing you, persephone?"

she holds his gaze for a long while. so long that he sees the fire in her eyes, watches it dwindle to ash in the shore of her irises. "you have never done anything awful to me."

"i do not believe such words," the angel interrupts, their lips curled into a sneer. "manipulation is part of who he is, persephone, and you are caught right in his snare."

dean is about to lunge. his nails bite into his skin, blood pools in four glossy red crescents on his palms, with the effort it takes to not bury his fists into the cheekbones of the angel's face.

it is her eyes that keep him steady. persephone's eyes, always so open and honest. he'd mistaken her for naive when what he really saw, initially, strength. warm, like a hug. burning, like passion.

he slumps back into the throne again, his curled fists breaking open and shattering like they'd never been built for violence at all.

"he has no snare," persephone's voice is soft. flower petals brushing across his calloused knuckles, a lover's caress. "he is a product of the underworld, an image crafted to maintain his reputation. you do not know him like i have come to."

dean did not believe a lot of what she said, himself. he was not just an image of violence and cruelty; it was who he was, still, with everyone but her. his persephone.

"your mistake is that you think i am vulnerable enough to get caught in any trap," she continues, and those eyes reignite and burn as they land on the angel that clasps her wrist. "i am not a damsel, or a lamb. i am a fire burning, and you are in my way."

persephone was a fire burning. those were the two words that she'd picked for herself, when she began to acclimate to the life below the surface. she burnt trees and flowers, singed them to ash and blew them away like the seeds of a dandelion.

she had it all, up above. life burst from her fingers, the sun beat down on her and made her burst. flowers wove themselves into her hair, stems tangled in the strands, her fingertips always smelled of pollen, and she could taste the season changes on her tongue with how familiar their flavors were.

but someone that was made of life was never truly alive. she only saw things grow, cultivated them, and where was the satisfaction in it, if she never got to see them die? what was the point of life if it never ended?

the god of death had been watching her for a long while. she felt the decay long before she ever saw him, her flowers wilting and the grass turning wheat brown and crunchy beneath her green-stained knees.

life was always intrigued by death. death always craved life. she found herself drifting up to him without an ounce of fear, even as his eyes swirled with a darkness beyond her knowledge. angels were naturally contemptuous of demons like he was, but she was no typical angel, and he was no typical demon.

it'd been her plan, really, from the moment that she first sensed the burn of his gaze upon her, threatening to drain her life source from its very core, to get him to steal her away. she was exhausted with giving life to everything around her, and not ever getting to feel that thrill of something new and exciting herself.

the god did not put up much of a fight to her troublesome idea, and that was the moment that persephone realized that she had chosen right. it took nothing for him to be convinced of her purpose and her potential, whereas there was not a soul that paid her any mind unless her efforts began to slip.

she'd never felt as alive as she did walking amongst the dead, and not only because of the obvious, but because it was new. a purpose. the souls that were trapped beneath the mortal grounds did not need to live like they were entombed in eternal winter.

persephone was a fire burning in the icy pits of hell, daring to melt away its harsh exterior and warm it, starting with the man that believed her capable of such.

"what is this?" she asks upon entering into his throne room, her eyes bursting open like blooming flowers at the sight. his throne, a towering mass of obsidian once in the center of the room, was now shifted. and next to it was... "for me?"

a granite throne of smaller stature, engraved with vines and thorned flowers. lesser demons worked on it without stirring at her arrival, though their rigid backs gave way that they sensed her. she was the sole thing with a heartbeat in this kingdom, it was impossible not to.

her beloved dean sat on the big arm of his own throne, eyes narrowed and scrutinizing on the working demons, lips curled in utter focus. but the moment her voice rang out, the black depths of his eyes melted into the green she'd gotten to familiarize herself with. the green just for her. "if you wish it to be," he says nonchalantly, as if having a throne built just for her was some idle task.

"you do not have to go to such lengths for me," persephone insists, "i am merely a guest in your home."

his eyes narrow. not long ago had that angel invaded the underworld and tried to drag her away. spouting nonsense about the god's manipulation of her, turning her vision rose-tinted and blind. the angels did not know that she had manipulated the god into bending to her will. "you are not merely a guest if you wish to be more."

"that is a bold offer," and she almost calls him dean, but she refrains in front of his subjects. that name is reserved for them and them only. his vulnerability is hers to cherish.

dean's head nods once. "and you are a bold girl."

her heart swells. the hollow thud of tools on stone echoes throughout the room for endless moments while she watches him, stares into those eyes that only deepen for her.

"leave at once," he commands, his voice cold and crafted of ice. dean's eyes, though, do not freeze over into black as they stay locked with hers.

the subjects scramble to their feet and disappear into the open archway of the throne room, out of sight. in a blink, it is just persephone and the devil, his gaze crafted of marble and as warm as a hearth.

no, he is not capable of manipulating her or breaking her. but she is capable of shattering him. he is lucky she would never want to hurt him. she is lucky that his heart thaws just for her.

"i will tell them to dispose of it if you do not want it," dean says, his voice like warm honey compared to the frosty interior. "i only thought that it would be nice. to have you around when i am not available to keep you company."

persephone shakes her head. "i love it," she answers, her eyes falling back onto it. it is everything she loves at once. the harshest flowers, the cruelest thorns ━ blackstone carvings of the balance between life and death.

dean can read her like a book. his eyes stay locked onto hers for any flicker of change in them. "there is something else." his jaw ticks. "say it."

"i am afraid."

the words come so easily that she does not feel the need to sugarcoat them, or to bury the truth beneath flowery words. though his reaction is unexpected. a flinch mars his expression.

she feels guilty at once.

"oh," is all he says, and the soft utter of the one syllable alone has her reeling to make this right.

"not of you," she says quickly, desperate to get the hurt out of his beautiful eyes. "never of you." dean stays looking unconvinced. "i am afraid," she starts again, backtracking on her words so that they might sound better this time, "of how a throne for me will be perceived."

dean's expression hardens and tightens. it takes seconds for him to become a man of marble ━ harsh lines deepen the contours of his face, expression unyielding and unmoving. he is the god hades, then, and not her dean.

instead of responding, his head jerks in gesture to the throne. not hers, but his. the one that he sits on the arm of, and not in. the one that does not belong to her, and that has probably never felt the presence besides its god's.

persephone's feet carry her to it, anyways, as if her body has not realized, yet, the implications of it all. her fingers dance along the glossy stone of the empty arm, expecting it to be icy and finding it warm.

she sits upon it, and it bursts into flame.

dean does not flinch away from the wisps of fire, though. they do not touch him. as she thought, the fire adheres to him, the throne answers to him ━ and it appears to answer to her, too.

"you are as much of a queen," he mutters as his head dips down, lips brushing on the curve of her ear, "as i am a king."

persephone cannot move, stuck in the trance that was the burning in his eyes. dean leans closer, and she does not move. his breath is warm and full of life on her skin. "it is yours if you want it to be. all of this is yours."

she has never wanted something more than to mean something. to have a place amongst death as life always should. her lips part to say so, but three words interrupt her, stopping her heart in between her ribs. "i am yours."

it is incredible, persephone thinks, to be loved. to not feel too inadequate to deserve it. to be herself, and to be enough.

his hand falls on her cheek, and hers lifts to trap it there, caging his love before it can run out of her like sand in an hourglass. and before she knows it, she's leaned up enough to kiss him.

his mouth tastes like frosted pomegranate and sin. his tongue breaks through the barrier of her lips like he's craved her for so long that he knows exactly what to do now that she is here.

life unto death. life undoes death.

he keeps her face between his palms like she is something precious as he makes the moves to stand. he is between her legs, then, his fingers trailing up the dress she wears, tucking beneath its hem.

she does not stop him. his fingers land on her inner thighs. she does not stop him. he sinks to his knees in front of her, a king bowing at his own throne, surrendering.

persephone's mouth parts in blooming anticipation. his hands push her knees apart, the thin fabric of her dress's skirt pooling in between the open space. and there dean is, her dean, as warm as he is frozen, thawing at the touch of her.

"i know you do not fear fire, my beauty," he whispers, his voice as rough as gravel as he looks up at her through his eyelashes, "so burn for me."

and then he buries his face between her legs, and she bursts into flames.

"i had this made for you," dean says upon entering their shared space. she is sprawled underneath silken burgundy sheets, completely bare, still, from the previous night. and the one before that. she has not left his bed or made any attempt to.

all he wears is a wrap of black cloth around his waist, hair damp from a shower, the smell of soap billowing around the room like smoke. and in his hands is a crown.

ruby red roses wrap around the base. the sharp points are thorns. deep green vines wrap around it in its entirety. it is sharp, deadly, and it is beautiful.

the sheets pool at her lap as she sits up, her lips parted in her awe. it is beautiful. it is everything he views her as, she knows, because he does not let her forget that she is as fierce as she is soft. she is thorns and she is roses.

dean crosses the space to nestle the crown into her hair. his knuckles trail down her cheek, a soft caress, softness that stays reserved for them.

"you look beautiful wearing your power atop your head," he mumbles mindlessly, his eyes searching her expression for any sort of reaction. but she is struck wordless. there is no magic in a crown made of thorns and bloody petals, but there is magic within her now that she wears it. an irrevocable strength that does not waver.

she reaches up to touch it, fingertips dancing along the jagged points of the thorns. her finger pricks, the sting making her blink in her surprise. how long had it been since she'd dealt with pain? since she'd seen it in her very eyes?

"when you are presented tonight, to my court," dean continues, his knuckle locking beneath her chin and tilting it up higher so she may meet his eyes, "you will wear it."

the fear of being rejected by his people and his subjects is now nothing but a wobbly line pretending to be a towering wall. she had broken past those worries, shattered them into rubble and dust, the moment that he'd kissed her.

like he knows that such an act will solidify her and her feelings, he presses his mouth to hers. warm, as always. everything in the underworld, now, is becoming warm and hearty.

persephone grabs at the cloth wrapped around his waist to drag him in closer. her hands slide around the expanse of his thighs and pull, pull until his knees meet the feathery soft mattress and he is atop her.

"i will never take it off," she vows on his lips, letting him swallow their truth.

dean's lips quirk into the kiss. "already fitting perfectly into your role."

━

persephone's throne is collecting dust, now, from the disuse. dean has insisted that she sit in his lap on his throne from the very moment that they'd first gotten together, and persephone was never one to argue with what he wanted when it was what she, too, did.

his people do not like her. it is evident in their sneers and their irritation. but it is not her job to make them accept her. it is theirs to come to terms with, when she stays.

dean's hand trails up her thigh, his palm leaving shivers with each pass, raising higher beneath the hem of her black satin dress. thorned vines wrap around her legs, thorns blossoming down the center path of the room from each step she took.

she is life and she is death. and most importantly, to her, she has found a purpose within his courts.

"you must not falter if they speak ill to you," he whispers into her ear, peppering the words along her skin in between kisses, "you must show them the queen that i know you to be."

it was reassurances that persephone did not need. she was not afraid of the dead. she craved death like it starved for her.

every harsh stare toward her was met with her own sneer. it was hard to fear her above, when flowers bloomed beneath her feet and branches curled toward her, wishing to listen in on what she had to say, and the wind whispered its secrets into her ears.

here, she was fire. here, she'd never felt so alive.

persephone could feel dean's eyes on her. when she turns to meet his gaze, there is pride in his green eyes. green, just for her. green, like the leaves and the grass. she lifts her hand to smudge the wrinkles in the corners of them, the gesture a silent question and an act of affection.

"you do not have to hide from me," she promises under her breath, the pad of her thumb massaging the age lines over his stubbled face. "show me how dark you can burn."

and when his eyes blacken, she is certain that love can conquer all. it certainly has brought a king to his knees.

the warm months were dawning. persephone knew, because her veins ached with the need to be above again. spring was upon them. it was time for her to return. just as dean had his duties, she had her own. it would not be fair to throw them to the wind just because she'd found a home, now, and was no longer wandering mindlessly through the woods.

dean stands before her, a grim expression on his face. in his hands is a pomegranate, torn in two. the juice runs down his hands like blood.

from his face, she knows that he must feel, too, like he is bleeding out.

persephone steps forward to press her forehead against his, on the tips of her toes to reach him. his arms wrap tightly around her, staining the white of her flowing gown pink with the blood on his hands.

she does not make any move to pull from him, though. she has waited as long as she possibly could already, but she does not want to abandon him again to his kingdom of cold isolation. does not want to see how much he falls apart without her; not when she will shatter just as violently.

"i will be back when the wind begins to chill," she promises, slipping from his arms just enough to steal a pomegranate half from his hands. she plucks a seed from its pieces, popping it between her lips. "i will be back at the very first reddening of the leaves, i swear it."

it does not loosen his clenched jaw. dean has never doubted any of her promises, but he does doubt himself, falling into a pit of his own destruction. she does not want to leave him and see how many shards she will have to pick up upon her return.

dean's fingers reach out to steal one of her seeds. "i would never take away your ability to choose," he says softly, placing the seed on his tongue as she had, like an unspoken vow between them in the shared gestures, "but i wish that you will continue to choose me."

"always."

her eyes close, and it's like she can already hear the crying of the birds in the sky, the nymphs in the trees crying for her to return, her mother wailing. it overwhelms her. she opens her eyes again to find solace in the black swirls of his.

"i will count the days until you come," he swears, his stained fingers brushing streaks of red along her cheekbone as he cups her face against his palm. "and i will burn the world if you are kept away from me."

persephone knew he would, too. just as she would tear through it all to get back to him.

it is with great effort that she crosses the gate between the underworld and the real world. her strength crumbles the moment her feet touch the grass, tears streaming down her face, the first signification of spring being the pouring rain that starts the moment her tears do.

but she was strong, and now much stronger, now that she holds place in someone's heart and she has found solace in a home that welcomes her just as she wants to be. as a queen, not just an angel, as a girl who wants to burn as much as she wants to light.

and true to his word, the depths of hell are aflame the moment the gate closes. the ice melted and thawed, in its place, flames and fire and heat, grieving the angel of death until she makes her way home to its king again.

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