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polarisbibliotheque · 7 months ago

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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)

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magnifythesun · 7 months ago

Note

Hiii so mexican salsa YES this post is a prompt! Feel free to change it to whatever you like, but I'd love a lil' story like this:

Ian and anthony are both very obviously in love and the whole smoffice knows it, but them lmao! I'd love this fic to be just text messages or slack posts or sth, where the cast and crew report of sightings of Ian and anthony doing very ianthony stuff and not realize it themselves. Maybe they come up w a way to show or nudge them in the right direction? But Ian and Anthony will still make it a bro moment (broment) bc they think the other one just wants to be bros LMAO ~ Japhan2024 💖

@japhan2024 FANTASTIC IDEA I have to believe that the Smosh cast legit has a secret group chat for stuff like this hahaha the looks on their faces whenever Ian and Anthony do something shippy is priceless

im going to wrack my brain for my favorite moments lolol I hope you enjoy!

(mid writing note: i first wrote basically all texts but it wasn't quite flowing the way i wanted it to so now there's a little more prose lol. this also taught me i do NOT know enough crew members' names)

read on ao3: https://archiveofourown.org/works/56346769

---

It took Erin less than ten minutes to create The Group Chat following the slapping video caress incident.

Erin: "okay so what the fuck"

Tommy: "i'm beside myself."

Angela: "SO WE'RE FINALLY TALKING ABOUT IT"

It began, and all hell broke loose from there.

Most of the cast and crew didn't know Anthony too well when he first returned, but everyone could tell Ian began to positively glow once he came back. It had started mostly with little under-the-breath comments about how big Ian had smiled at something Anthony did, or shared glances after they looked lost in each other's worlds. It's not that everyone wanted to speculate about their bosses, but rather that their bosses were practically giving them no choice.

The real watershed moment was the birth of The Group Chat, which finally provided an outlet for all ianthony incidents witnessed by the cast and crew.

---

Shayne: "Please tell me how Anthony managed to turn his smosh cast interview into an hour of us complimenting Ian."

Tommy: "i swear he practices in his car on the way to work"

---

Erin: "not them discussing deepthroating injuries for like three whole minutes..."

Erin: "while Anthony sucks on his rainbow lollipop......"

Chanse: "they are not beating the allegations"

---

Josh: "So this is I think the fourth video I've edited where Anthony has called Ian daddy??"

Josh: "WHAT is the thought process. I just can't put it together. is Anthony just like yeah I'm going to call my bro daddy about seventeen separate times with varying levels of seriousness and that's good and het and normal."

Erin: "Josh, istg you don't see the half of it. Come watch them film and pay special attention when the cameras are OFF."

---

Erin: "im losing it"

Arasha: "oh god. what happened"

Erin: "i am not fucking kidding right now anthony just called him submissive and breedable."

Keith: "WHAT"

Erin: "he said what he said."

Angela: "BREEDABLE????????????"

Erin: "in front of god and everyone."

Angela: "BREEDABLE?!?!?!?!?!?!?!?!"

---

Tommy: "catching up on the main channel sketches and i just have to ask"

Tommy: "How many men can Ian date in his sketches until he realizes he'd like to date one in real life?"

Chanse: "don't SPEAK to me about it"

---

Tommy: "bicurious, hmm? Ian would you like to share something with the class???"

Chanse: "hes so deep in the mental closet his art is trying to scream it at him through his subconscious."

Chanse: "ive been there 😞"

Josh: "I've never been more prepared to edit a video in my whole life"

---

Angela: "Erinnnn not u directing them to stand closer together 😭😭"

Erin: "look I'm at my wits end. I'm thinking forced proximity might do it"

Keith: "if that could work they would have gotten it during kissing currency 😙💸"

Shayne: "@ courtney is this your thought process behind wanting a kissing video"

Courtney: "HA"

Courtney: "yes."

---

Courtney: "okay so if our plan at this point is just to make them read so many fanfics about themselves out loud that they spontaneously realize they're in love, we've got to find some fics that don't contain the word 'cummies'"

Angela: "what are cummies?? 😇"

Shayne: "ANGELA I SWEAR TO GOD"

---

As the incidents kept piling up, a plot began to form. Maybe Anthony and Ian were just so oblivious that they all needed to adopt a certain 'push-comes-to-shove' mentality, and do what had to be done. Everyone agreed, they had to find a way to put them in such a charged situation that this would all finally boil over, and the astounding tension that had plagued the office would be resolved. The ultimate achievement of this long-weary Group Chat.

Erin: "okay so one more time. everyone has talked with HR, yes? and everyone slated for the vid is comfortable with the concept of spin the bottle"

Angela: "what's spin the bottle? 😇"

Tommy: "STOP"

Shayne "1) Yes for the thousandth time, we promise. 2) What the FUCK are we going to do if this bottle never lands on Anthony and Ian"

Erin: "I will keep this shoot going as long as necessary."

Shayne: "That sounds like a threat?"

Chanse: "I'm suddenly regretting my decision. May I take my week's vacation right now?"

---

Erin: "how..."

Courtney: "did you see the look in their eyes????? :O"

Angela: "FATE WAS ON OUR SIDE. IT LANDED ON THEM THREE WHOLE TIMES"

Erin: "yes but,,,,,"

Tommy: "don't speak to me I'm still reeling"

Keith: "oh please don't tell me it didn't work."

Chanse: "i just have one question. how did they kiss THREE TIMES and still not realize."

Courtney: "they were both practically levitating from giddiness"

Arasha: "they just kept looking away from each other and laughing it off... they didn't see each other's expressions 😭😭"

Angela: "guys. guys"

Erin: "what"

Angela: "do u know what this means"

Angela: "now that we've pushed them over this hurdle... They're going to start bro kissing in their sketches"

Chanse: "oh my god"

Josh: "oh fuck you're right"

Erin: "that's it."

Erin: "im quitting smosh"

Amanda: "Oh hey guys! We have a group chat?"

Shayne:

#asks #ianthony #my fanfic #i so hope you enjoyed this!! <3

73 notes · View notes

lostinforestbound · 7 months ago

Text

It's finally here! I'm sorry it took me so long, with work and art projects I got completely swamped. But now it's here! I'm aware I'm posting this incredibly late so no one will see this until morning probably hahaha! Requested tag: @snoozeeebee

Rolan/M!Tiefling Tav

Third Time's the Charm - Ch.1

Rolan intends on doing great things when he finally gets to Baldur's Gate, but an utter idiot named Tav is distracting him. Unfortunately, against his better judgement, he's starting to fall for him.

Word Count: 5.9k (AO3)

Relevant Tags: Graphic Depictions of Violence, Rolan's POV, Makeout, No smut (yet) but it gets frisky, Slowburn

(If there's any tags I missed, please let me know!) NSFW, MDNI

They've been at this grove, stewing and waiting for too long. That Archdruid (Halsin was his name, he believes) might have been welcoming, but the other druids have not. Now he up and disappeared after he decided to follow a group of weak, loud, wannabe adventurers who were only out for themselves. When they cowered back inside the grove with less than half their group, he knew that this place was doomed. What's worse than all of that mess is that Lia is stubborn about leaving, and now they're in an argument again. They've been having them a lot in recent months, ever since the fall and rise of Elturel.

"-and all you care about is your stupid apprenticeship!" Lia shouts at him, his mind finally tuning back into the conversation- no, not a conversation, a damn shouting match.

Her words make him bristle and grind his teeth. How dare she? How dare she ever think this was all only for the apprenticeship? It's an insult to injury, knowing no matter what he does, trying to take care of them results in him being called selfish. What is selfish about wanting a better life for the three of them? They only have each other, their mother long gone. She's gone, and now he carries the sole responsibility of taking care of them.

She's gone.

"Take that back. Right now." He hisses, getting in her face as they glare each other down.

Cal immediately inserts himself in between the two of them, palms out in front of them both. "Can we all just take a moment? Please?"

Rolan idly notices the sweat gathering on Cal's temple as he pushes Lia back slightly by her shoulder, creating more space between all of them. He does the same to Rolan, but stays put in the middle to form a weak barrier- wait, who is that tiefling that approached? No, it doesn't matter.

"Hells, we can't just leave. They're kin!" Lia begs, almost pleading with him.

"I will not gamble our lives- our futures, on people who are as good as dead," He says somewhat calmly, though his tail still flicks behind him in irritation. "We must leave for Baldur's Gate at once."

Lia looks ready to bare her teeth at him, angry with him. She's always angry with him. "What's the point of blades and spells if we don't bloody use them?! We should stay! These people aren't fighters, we can help!"

"Or yell louder, that's fine too," Cal says with a familiar bitterness in his tone; gods, he hates that tone on Cal. He's been hearing it more often, these days.

"Have you forgotten Elturel?" A voice breaks through, and he finally acknowledges the presence beside them.

It's another tiefling, a much larger one at that. He's not part of the refugees, as he hasn't even seen him around until now. Did he just arrive here?

This one isn't that much taller than he is, only by a few inches; but hells, his mass absolutely dwarfs his own. A fighter most likely, or even worse, a barbarian. It doesn't matter which one he may be, he looks like an idiot that isn't worth his precious time.

"We should stand by our people. You know no one else will." He says lowly, giving a knowing look of both annoyance and sadness.

He loathes that look. He’s never wanted to blast someone more than in this moment. How dare he look at him as if he was some child throwing a tantrum?

"This isn't Elturel, and I'm not responsible for every damn tiefling in the world!" He exclaims, almost furious.

Lia pokes him harshly in the chest with her pointer finger, and he has to suppress a wince. "Just be responsible for yourself, then! We have to stay; it's the right thing to do."

He hates that fucking tiefling even more now. Not only has he butted into his family affairs, but now he turned his sister- Lia, even more against him. For once, why can't things go his way? Why do they not listen to him?

When did they stop listening to him?

"Zurgan. Fine! We'll stay. If we survive, it'll make for a good story, I suppose." He airs, rubbing a finger to his temple as he feels a headache form there.

For the first time in a long time, Lia gives him a genuine smile, putting a hand on his arm and squeezing. "Thank you, Rolan.” She says sincerely.

Cal now takes the calm moment to usher the two further into the grove, seeming to want to get away from the entranceway as soon as possible; for once, Rolan lets him. He doesn't pay any mind to the strange looks they get by going further into the grove with the other refugees, and he certainly doesn't pay any mind to the oaf of a tiefling that they left standing there by himself.

He decides he hates that man, and he pisses him off to no end.

"How long until Rolan shows off his Thunderwave?" Cal asks as they settle down near an old human woman's tent, who seems to be organizing some herbs in her storage crate. Something is off about her, but Rolan can’t put his finger on it. Either way, it doesn’t matter.

Lia snickers at that moment, crossing her arms over her chest. "Depends, how many people are dumb enough to ask?"

"Hah! True."

Rolan rolls his eyes, trying to dust off the dirt on his robes. He hates the smell of this damned grove, it stinks. Is he truly supposed to arrive to Lorroakan with his clothes smelling like this? He'll have to burn them, no question.

"Don't be grumpy, Rolan. We'll get to the city soon." Cal chirps, bumping his shoulder with his own.

"I am not grumpy."

"The scowl on your face would frighten a troll."

Despite the foul move he's in, he smiles at his little brother. "Heh. You're an idiot."

-----

It's been days, and that tiefling is still here.

He's heard about his many exploits; saving one of the children the druids held hostage, saving another orphan child from a group of relentless harpies, getting their money back from that tiefling brat with the eyepatch, and slaughtering Kagha. Emphasis on slaughtering.

When he came out of that grove where the ritual had stopped, he saw the amount of blood that was covering the large man. None of it was his own, he realized. The man barely had a scratch on him and seemed proud when exiting.

He caught himself staring at him many times, watching how the muscles stretched across his skin, seeing all the little imperfections. Scars, beauty spots, all the like. He internally curses himself and looks away when he feels his face growing hot.

Paying back attention to his siblings, he notices how Cal stares at the blacksmith across the way, rubbing his hands absentmindedly as he thinks of something.

"You shouldn't waste precious time on distractions. We need to head to Baldur's gate after this goblin fiasco is over." He remarks, getting up and brushing off dirt.

"Rolan." Lia warns, but he ignores her and walks away with a roll of his eyes. They need supplies, so he will go get them if they are too lazy to do so.

And, of course, the oaf is already buying them off of one of the druids. Damn it all!

"Need something?" He asks, inspecting him as if Rolan was much shorter than him.

He scoffs, even more irritated than he was originally, "I was in need of potions, but it seems you got them all already."

"What did you need?"

"It doesn't matter, you beat me to it!” He instinctively snaps, briefly pinching the bridge of his nose between his index finger and thumb. “Bloody health potions are so short of stock these days-"

Wordlessly, the man puts three large health potions into his arms, which, for once, renders Rolan speechless. He doesn’t even remember the original tangent he was about to go one. Something about price inflation, probably.

Staring down at the red potions in his arms, he snaps back into reality when he speaks again. "You three need it more than I do. I, at least, have a healer."

He sneers at him, gripping the potions tight. "So what, you look down on us?”

"Not at all."

"We are not charity cases,”He almost growls, baring his teeth. “What is your game here?"

"…Can I tell you a secret?"

Why is this his life? How did everything turn out this way? Why is he even entertaining this fool??

After a bit of contemplating his life choices, he finally responds. "What?"

The tiefling suddenly leans in to put his mouth near his ear, and gods he's so close. Tav was his name, wasn't it? He heard it in passing by one of his group mates. Balsam, rogue's morsel, and acorn truffle are what he smells on him, a strong scent that is surprisingly pleasant- gods, what is he thinking?! Feeling his face starting to heat up, he tries to take a step back, but Tav stills him with a hand on the back of his neck. It makes his breath catch in his throat.

Finally, Tav whispers to him, "I'm just being nice."

Tav pulls away, leaving Rolan completely dumbfounded as he continues. "I'm not trying to look down on you or be a pest, I just think you need the potions more than I do. Cause gods forbid these fucking druids try and help out people who need it." He spits with a roll of his eyes, staring directly at the Druid that was still besides them through this entire ordeal. He looks uncomfortable.

"Well, that is shockingly intelligent of you." He huffs, hoping the jab aggravated him. "Although, aren't you fighting a swarm of Goblins out there?"

"I am, but bold of you to assume they hit hard enough to hurt me." Before he could come up with another insult for his remark, Tav interjected. "Anyways, I have to return to my camp as it is getting late. Good luck to you and your siblings. Cal and Lia, right?"

He didn't have the chance to respond before the idiot sauntered off, back outside the grove. Great, now he's indebted to the bastard. Slowly, he stalks back into the grove, tying the potions to his belt as he does so.

-----

Some panic swept across the grove when people realized the goblin army planned to raid it for all it was worth. He's heard so many horror stories of slaughtered tieflings, their enemies sawing off their horns to keep as trophies or as foghorns.

If they think they could do the same to his family, they are sorely mistaken.

As others run and hide in Zevlor's war room, others stay to help fight, including himself. But, once again, the three of them can't stop arguing about their positions; he can tell Cal is getting pissed off, but so is he.

"I'm telling you to stay back. My Thunderwave will make short of any goblin that dares to come close. If you two are in the way, I'll knock you both over!"

"And I'm telling you to just get behind us! Spellcasters can't take a punch or a blade!" Lia shouts.

"Can we not argue over this? Please? How about we all line up together?"

"No." They both state and Cal immediately shuts up.

"Wow, you three must love each other very much." A familiar voice says sarcastically.

He grits his teeth and turns towards Tav. "Oh, piss off you oafish-"

"Wait! Wait, maybe Tav can help us out. Figure out positioning and whatnot?" Cal suggests quickly.

"Great idea Cal! Let's ask the professional harpy slayer."

Tav looks at them all, seeming to take in the equipment and weapons that they have on hand. In all honesty, Rolan didn't even think Tav could think.

Suddenly, Tav grabs Cal and moves him to the front, and in the next moment, he gently moves Lia to the back, leaving Rolan in the middle. "There. That's a good positioning."

"See? Easy!" Cal says cheerfully. "Now can we just-"

"Why can’t I be in the front with Cal?”

“Lia come on-“

“I want to be able to help out!”

Tav yawns briefly before explaining, "You will be helping, a lot. Both of you and Rolan are range users. You will hit goblins better by staying in the back where you'll be more effective. Cal here is in melee, with both a pike and a shield. He can protect you both and be your frontliner, while at the same time, you two cover his blind spot. Although, alternatively, you two could be next to each other, but stay behind him."

Rolan blinks slowly, processing the logic behind it. Damn it all, it's incredibly smart. Maybe Tav isn’t an idiot.

"There, good enough explanation?" He asks.

"It's great! Thank you, sincerely." Lia says, patting Tav's shoulder.

"…You're welcome." He pauses before putting a hand into his bag. "We'll kill those bastards out there, no doubt. But I would feel better if you all have this just in case."

Taking out a bright scroll, he holds it out to the three of them to take. Rolan instantly recognized it, especially with the unique binding on it.

A Resurrection Scroll.

Lia is the first to react and take it. "We won't need this, but thank you! Doesn't hurt to have a backup plan if things go wrong."

"I'll make sure it goes smoothly." He reassures, cracking his knuckles.

"What do you have planned, anyway?" Cal wonders aloud.

"I stole a bunch of smoke powder barrels in their camp and set them up along the perimeter. Anyways, they could be here any moment. Stay vigilant. If all goes super well, you won't even have to fight."

-----

They feel the explosions before they hear it. A deep rumbling in the ground that shakes them, awake and alert. There are so many of them that go off after the first one, like a domino effect. How many barrels could Tav have possibly gotten his hands on??

Unfortunately, those explosions didn’t stop a giant spider and some goblins from coming in.

Goblins were easy. He made quick work of them with his thunderwave, blasting them back into the stone wall. Though with his distraction of mentally stroking his own ego, he didn’t see the giant spider coming up until Cal quickly got to his side, blocking its oncoming fangs with his shield, the force of the bite splintering the wood.

His eyes widen, and he blasts a magic missile at the spider right as Lia shoots an arrow into one of its eyes. It screeches in pain, but it’s stubborn in its conviction. It lunges, and Cal cries out when it tears into his arm, trying to rip off his flesh.

Rolan shoots off another thunderwave in his anger and panic, killing the spider in an instant. He watches some of the legs get cut clean off, the body flying and crashing into some crates, destroying them, and its sickly green innards spilling onto the dirt floor. A disgusting sight, indeed.

“Cal!” Lia yells quickly, snapping Rolan back into reality and he quickly rushes over.

Cal is teary-eyed but tries to wave it off, even as Lia tries to get a better look. “I-I’m fine, I’m fine.”

“No, you’re not. Come here.” Rolan says maybe a little too harshly, making his brother sit down on a wayward crate and grabbing his elbow to hold it still.

“Rolan please-“

“You look close to crying! Just-“ He stops himself and takes a deep breath, eyes meeting his. “Let me help. Please.”

Cal sighs shakily but nods, letting his arm be lifted for him and Lia to see.

It’s a deep injury, but nothing deathly serious. It looks painful. The spider managed to inject some kind of poison, but Cal resisted whatever effect it could have taken.

Rolan takes out one of the health potions he’s received from Tav and carefully pours it over the injury, and it slowly seals the wound. No scar is left behind, surprisingly enough.

“Does it hurt?” Lia gently presses.

“Not anymore. Thanks, Rolan.”

He wants to yell at him so badly, the argument already bubbling up his throat. Why wasn’t he more careful? Why did he jump towards his side so quickly? He had it handled! He’s supposed to protect him, not the other way around.

Instead, he settles on, “You’re welcome.”

Knowing it’s safer, Cal leans against him quietly, and Rolan carefully holds him with Lia. It wasn’t even a close call, but it’s clear Cal needed some comfort.

No more enemies come through. There were no casualties, either.

Zevlor ends up making a speech at the gate when they check out the damage, and he’s sure others are inspired, but he’s barely paying attention to it. He doesn’t care, in all honestly. He wants to leave this fucking grove and never look back; it is by far the worst place they’ve ever stayed in, second to Avernus. Though, he might be being dramatic.

He found himself looking around for Tav, but he didn’t see him anywhere. Why was he looking for him, anyway?

When he finally spots him, he shouldn’t be shocked by the amount of gore he’s covered in, but he is. He’s completely drenched in blood, whether from the goblins or the Drow leading them. Some of it was his own since he spots injuries littering his frame.

He shakes his head and straightens up, shifting his attention to his siblings and ignoring the warmth growing in his cheeks. “Now that this fiasco is over, we will head to Baldur’s Gate.”

“Are you serious Rolan?! Come on, there’s going to be a party!” Lia complains, bumping her hip with his. “We have to go.”

“We don’t have time for parties! Lorroakan is waiting for me, I cannot be late.”

“What’s one party, Rolan? It’s just for a night. We need to rest anyways.” Cal says, looking around the other excited tieflings. When was the last time they saw a crowd of them so happy? He certainly doesn't remember, and it makes his original conviction crack a little.

“I will not-“

Cal takes hold of one of his arms, tugging him. “Please, Rolan? Just for tonight.”

“There’ll be free wine, provided by the heroes.” Lia sing-songs, leaning against him and almost making him stumble.

“…Free wine?” He questions, genuinely thinking about it.

“And free food,” Cal confirms.

Gods, he hates the pathetic puppy-dog eyes that they use. He can’t stand to look at their faces, and he hates it even more that he's falling for it, just as he always has.

He sighs heavily in defeat, head hanging a little low. “Fine.”

“Yes!” Cal cheers, giving him a tight hug.

To his surprise, Lia joins in, the both of them crushing him. “Thank you, Rolan!”

He rolls his eyes but lets a smile break through, even when he can hardly breathe. “All this over a party?”

“It’ll be fun! You’ll see!”

He smirks knowingly, finally separating from the two. “All right all right, I trust that this will be an exceptional occasion. I look forward to seeing you say you love me while drunk, Lia.”

"As if, brother."

It doesn’t take long for Tav to offer up his area with his party members, so they gather with the Tieflings and head to the camp. It doesn’t look like much, but it’s secluded at least.

That bard, Alfira, starts decorating the place in an instant; lantern lights go up, colorful ribbons decorate the trees, and boxes get moved to the side. Others help out, including Lia, but Rolan and Cal sit back and relax for the time being.

When the party finally starts, they pass wine between the three of them.

“Can you give us a magic show, Master Rolan?” She teases.

Rolan rolls his eyes playfully. “Already?”

“Oh! Can you make an owl bear?? Or a dragon!” Cal suggests, scooting forward more on the log.

He stretches out his arms in front of him, cracking his knuckles while doing so. "Patience! Have you no respect for showmanship?"

"Having performance issues Rolan?" Cal whisper-shouts playfully, and Rolan idly notices Tav approaching.

He turns his nose up high momentarily before holding his hands out. "Hush, you. And behold!"

It's a brief performance, but amazing nonetheless if he says so himself. He makes it look like stars that spark, fly, and explode into various lights. He has always been irritated he could never make it last long, but that is what his training will be for.

He looks over at Tav as soon as he claps, seeing the way his eyes glide over the lights. His face doesn’t change in the slightest, so he can’t tell if his clapping is meant to be some sort of taunt or if he’s genuine.

Either way, he does a dramatic bow. "Adoring applause? You're too kind."

"Remember when he couldn't cast that?" Lia teases.

"They grow up so fast," Cal states.

"Never have I met such troglodytes. Now, pass the wine." Rolan demands, but a content smile is plastered on his face.

It seems Lia was about to offer Tav some of it, but when she and Rolan turn towards him, he’s already gone.

“Looks like he already got bored of you.” Lia sings to him.

“Oh hush up.” He huffs, snatching the wine bottle and taking a long drink.

He will never admit how much that comment stung. He doesn’t know why he was so bothered by it in the first place. There are many possibilities he goes over as he feels the alcohol give him a pleasant buzz; was it her wording, or was it the fact that Tav disappeared without a word? Did he get bored?

Whatever, it doesn’t matter. He doesn’t care what that man thinks of him. He swears he doesn’t.

Later in the night, he drank- no, chugged wine while Cal and Lia chatted with the other tieflings partying. As much as he loved to perform for them both, even someone as great as he gets tired after using a bunch of magic in rapid succession.

The wine wasn’t good; nothing compares to Arabellan Dry, but what else was there to drink? He refuses to partake in ale or beer, he never found the appeal of it. Honestly, it’s disgusting, and he doesn’t understand why Lia likes it so much. Cal seems to be looking for someone in particular but isn't finding them. He looks disappointed.

As he wonders about Cal and debates checking in on him, he doesn’t notice the brute approaching him until his giant form sits next to him with his own alcohol, the bark of the fallen tree groaning from the extra weight. He covers up how it startled him quickly, tilting his head up towards the brute with a bored expression.

“What do you want?”

“Nothing. I’m here to drink.” He says nonchalantly, sipping on the wine bottle. “Impressive display of magic earlier.”

His nose scrunches up, yellow eyes settling on his flaming ones with a glare. “Was that sarcasm?”

“No. Are you self-taught?”

Of all the things he expected tonight, it wasn’t this. Tav, a person who hits things and asks questions later, is curious about him? He wonders if he has an ulterior motive.

He pushes the thought to the back burner of his brain for now but approaches the conversation cautiously. “I am! And a man with many talents, may I add. I’m going straight to Baldur’s Gate to learn from the best: The Great Lorroakan.”

He sees the imposing Tiefling roll his eyes, putting his bottle down to stare out at the water surrounding the camp. Tav looks a little different, in the moonlight. Seeing him up close is a different experience entirely, and now he can see every little detail about him, including how he was shirtless-

Wait, did he just roll his eyes?

“What?” He demands, posture straightening as he grows defensive.

“Nothing. Just heard he’s a cad is all.” He mutters, deciding to pick the bottle back up and taking a long swig.

“Common gossip and rumors! He’s the greatest wizard in all of Baldur’s Gate. I’ve never imagined he would answer my letters.” He states with a happy sigh, idly swirling the liquid in his bottle. “I will become his apprentice as soon as I arrive. I cannot be late, yet Cal and Lia insist that this party is a wonderful idea. An adoring crowd, fine wine - I daresay this place is almost civilized.”

“Do you regret staying?”

“Of course I do. But Cal and Lia…” He trails off for only a moment but snaps back to it. “They deserve to have some fun for a little while. We’ll leave at dawn, either way.”

The Tiefling stares at him for a moment, seeming to be searching his face. For what, Rolan had no idea. Some kind of lie, perhaps?

“All right then. Good luck to you.” Tav eventually settles on.

“…That’s it??” He exasperates.

“If you’re looking for someone to argue with, find someone else.”

“You-“

“You talk too much.”

He settles a death glare on Tav's form. “Prick.”

Tav slowly looks at him with his own glare, determined to play his game. “Entitled fuck.”

“Dumb oaf.”

“Prickly bastard.”

They both stare each other down, faces too close but neither of them breaks their stare. He feels Tav's hot breath ghosting over his lips, and the tension could be cut with a knife.

“You’re insufferable.” Tav huffs, suddenly gripping Rolan’s jaw and kissing him firmly.

He moans in surprise at the force but isn’t against it. In fact, his face gets incredibly red before he remembers he can kiss back.

It’s not like this is his first kiss. He’s given and received kisses before, he’s not some kind of reserved prude. But this is the first one that’s so heavy. Hot. He’s completely out of practice and can do nothing but grip Tav's thicker forearm.

Something about being desirable to Tav makes him throb in his pants, though it also may be the way Tav's tongue is tracing his bottom lip, seeking entry.

Tav's free hand trails to his rear and squeezes, making him inhale sharply; a perfect opportunity for Tav to slide his tongue in to taste him. He knows he's losing his composure and by extension, himself, but what's the harm in indulging in this? It's pathetic, but he's never felt so desired up until this moment, even if this ends up being a fling.

Why did the thought of this being a fling make him feel hollow?

He pulls away to give himself space and to breathe, but Tav doesn't pause, kissing along his jaw and ear. "My tent is west of here if you're interested. No one will hear us."

He shudders at the feeling of sharp teeth grazing the edge of his ear, teasing and provoking. Swallowing, he nods, and Tav pulls him away from the party towards a more secluded part of the area. He hopes that Lia and Cal didn't see him, but they most likely did. He’ll never hear the end of it when he returns.

Almost clumsily, Rolan finds himself in Tav’s tent quickly after, their kissing getting more heated between them. It was a strange feeling, exchanging breaths with someone else, but it felt good. Better than he thought.

They settle down on the floor of the tent, him sitting in Tav’s lap as they continue their make-out. Their tongues dance almost…lovingly. No, he can’t be reading into it right. They barely know each other; he's overthinking again.

He feels his large hands attempting to find the hem of his robes, and he seems to find it quickly as if from experience. Fingers start to dance across the bare skin of his back, running up the ridges of his spine. He sighs out shakily, goosebumps prickling out as his tail anxiously flicks about. Nerves hit him like a loose carriage, fast and suddenly, settling into the pit of his stomach. He felt cold, heart racing a mile a minute.

Why? This was good. Everything was good. This was supposed to feel good.

Why isn’t it?

He’ll give it time. It’s normal to be nervous about this kind of thing, right? Most definitely his lack of experience is a contributor, and doesn’t he deserve this after all his hardship? What’s the harm in pleasure for at least a night.

He feels his back hit the bedroll, warm calloused hands trailing over to the front of his body instead. Their kisses were feverish, desperate, and pent-up. All Rolan could do was grip the bedding below him as nails teased the textured skin of his sternum, a hand rolling a nipple between two fingers.

Tav’s lips go to his neck, finger tips trailing teasingly down his stomach before he begins to palm at his crotch through his smalls-

He can’t do it.

A cold sweat beads on the back of Rolan’s neck, panic and bile rising in his throat as it closes. He can’t do it, and he quickly grabs Tav’s arm with a death grip with wide eyes. “W-Wait, stop!”

Tav immediately gets his hands off of him, giving him space to move. His head reels from the sudden adrenaline, but also because Tav’s stoic demeanor is no longer present, and the man genuinely looks concerned. Fearful, even. “Did I hurt you?”

“No! No.” He reassures quickly, but his vulnerable mind is scattered and unfocused as he sits up.

There’s so many reasons why he couldn’t do this, but he can’t pin one down. Surely, Tav deserves an explanation, so he rushes to think of one.

It’s too soon, he hasn’t done this before, and this isn’t the place for it, he’s not a degenerate, his siblings are nearby, Tav is too imposing, it might hurt, it’s too vulnerable, he’s never been with a man, he’s never been with anyone, this is the wrong place to do it, he’s a coward, he’s scared-

“I can’t.” He grimaces, with no actual reason good enough to say out loud. Part of him is worried about what Tav would say; would he be upset with him? On one hand, if he does, Rolan knows that Tav was never worth his time. But on the other, he found Tav not as insufferable as he thought, and he may have just ruined the strange bond they made by stopping everything. Gods, he is pathetic, isn’t he?

Tav sighs slowly in relief, sitting back. “That’s okay.”

It’s not good enough, not for Rolan. As a wizard, he demands answers for a multitude of reasons when things happen. It’s only fair that he gives an explanation, is it not? Finally, he pins down a reason he could give: he doesn’t want to do it after having so much wine. There, that should do it.

Before he could start his tangent, he felt a hand cover his mouth.

“I don’t need a reason. It’s okay.”

He’s about to argue, completely insulted, but it gets muffled by the hand on his mouth.

“You don’t ever have to explain to me why you want to stop.” He says, finally moving his hand away. “I’m sorry if you felt like you couldn’t say no to me earlier.”

“I did want it.” He assured quickly, because he did. He truly did. Why did he panic?

“But you changed your mind.” He began, not unkindly.

“I did.”

“That’s fine.” He says with a small shrug. “If you want, we can keep kissing. Nothing further than that.”

He laughs in disbelief, running a hand down his sweaty face. “And why would we do that?”

“Doesn’t hurt to have company for a night. Besides-“ He gently takes hold of his chin, tilting his face up. “You seemed to enjoy what we were doing. Why not indulge? Just for one night.”

He smirks up at him, leaning forward with false confidence. “Am I that irresistible?”

“You have a pretty face.” He noted, swiping his thumb across his kiss-bruised lip before kissing him again.

The kiss is lazy and less heated, but it makes his heart pound all the same. Being held so tenderly is new, and he’s growing attached.

He cannot have attachments. What is he thinking?

After kissing for a little longer, he lets himself be held in the bedroll as they lay down, indulging in the quiet night with Tav. They didn’t need to discuss what happened or question it. It’s exchanging favors. For Rolan, it’s just wanting the comfort of another body near him, letting him pretend that he’ll have something like this in the future. One day, he’ll be good enough for someone. He’s not sure what this does for Tav exactly, but he seems content to hold him.

“You can ask for more if you’d like.”

“I’d rather not embarrass myself more than I already have.” He barks before glancing at him in apology, eyes softer.

“Would it help if I said I will keep my mouth shut about this?” Tav suggested, pushing some hair away from his face.

He shifts to glance at his face, seeing if he is genuine. He can never read his face that well, but when he makes his judgment, he sighs and takes one of Tav’s hands, lacing his fingers through his.

“This is pathetic, I know.”

“I don’t think it’s pathetic.” He mumbles, squeezing his hand. “This is nice for me, too.”

Rolan feels himself relax more, body almost relieved that this hasn’t been rejected.

“What will you do, when you finally get your apprenticeship figured out?” Tav asks in the quiet.

“I’ll learn everything I can about all schools of magic. Then I can put on a real show for Cal and Lia.”

“They seem to love your shows already, why change them?”

“It’ll be different.” He pledged, “Bigger, better, and more sustainable. I’ll make them last so much longer, I’ll bring it more colors, and the illusion will look realistic. You will see.”

“I’m sure they’ll be great.” He yawns, nuzzling into the back of his neck.

“I will show you when you reach to Baldur’s Gate, my friend.”

There’s no response, only a quiet snore greets him. At first, he’s annoyed, but it’s hard to be angry when he is just as exhausted from today. For now, he falls asleep in his arms, hoping that for once no nightmares haunt him.

The Tiefling beside him is still fast asleep when he wakes at dawn, though he’s impressed by how the man can sleep through the screeching birds outside.

Quickly, he fixes his robes and hair, trying to not look like a mess. Cal and Lia are surely going to tease him, knowing he never returned to their tent. He debates on whether to wake the idiot up to say goodbye, but that seems foolish. He needs to sleep, and they need to head to Baldur’s gate immediately.

So he opens the tent, sparing one more look back before leaving.

He cannot create attachments. Not now, not ever. Not until he’s done with his apprenticeship.

#forest-writes #holy rolan empire #rolan #bg3 rolan #rolan bg3 #bg3 #rolan x tav #cal #lia #rolan fanfic #rolan brainrot

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bepisbee · 7 months ago

Text

made a vidow carnivore shadow short!

also go look at it!! amazing art by @space-puppeteer its so good!

(post manga shadow lives situation)

read on ao3

The others were honestly a little terrified the first time they came home to Vio with his hand in Shadow’s mouth. They had been taking advantage of the quiet space. Since his initial curiosity he hadn’t had much time to delve deeper into Shadow’s unique intricacies.

It only made sense. He required a different diet than them after all. Why not learn the most he can? Vio was charting how many, where, and how sharp his mouth of canines were. Shadow was sitting patiently, mouth wide and frozen solid as the rest of Link stood there mortified.

Vio hadn’t noticed them until Red started crying about Shadow eating him.

Boy, that was a fun conversation.

Shadow focused back on Vio as he snapped back swiftly with a hiss. He’d nicked himself on one of the more dangerous teeth. Despite it really not being his fault, Shadow found himself apologizing.

“Sorry…” he held out his clawed hand to ask for Vio’s. He took it and gently rolled it over. He inspected it closely. Just a small cut on his finger, clean like a fresh knife. He made eye contact and kissed the spot softly pressing his tongue to it for a second. “You ok?”

Vio’s cheeks flushed from the unexpected intimate gesture. It shook him out of his hyperfocus. “Ah-” he cleared his throat. “Ahem. yeahh thanks. I’m okay,”

Shadow gave him his hand back.

“Do you…” He rolled over how to ask, “Have you… hunted for animals? with these?” Vio held Shadow’s hand this time, admiring the painted nails.

He laughed, “Hahaha, what, like a wolfos?” he could see it, funny as that was. “Not here I haven’t. There was always enough from the hinox and other creatures under us.” he waved his unoccupied hand dismissively. “There are markets, you know.” He subconsciously licked his teeth at the thought. “I have to be a wolfos for Halloween now.”

“Hm.” Vio stopped his inspection, interlacing their fingers instead. “Do you think maybe that accounts for your occasional over aggression and bloodlust?”

“You’re always so blunt.” he snorted, but not offended. “I dunno. Maybe? Are you suggesting I go serial killer on the local wildlife?”

“Haha, no no. I’m just thinking out loud. We should make a trip in town soon though,” Though, they might end up hunting anyway, lest they sell out the butcher. He got lost in thought about it again, mumbling. Did he need to sharpen either, like a cat? What type he liked better, how cooked, would he eat a cow?

“A cow??” oops he said that out loud. Shadow laughed really hard. “hahahaha what? like, just bite it??” His big grin showed off the sharp set. “If you bet me to, I would.”

Vio shook his head, amused. “No…well…maybe. The others would be upset.”

“Nerd.” Shadow leaned in and pecked his cheek.

#shadow link #vidow #four swords #vio link #chili writes #legend of zelda #fanfic #fanfiction #short #canivore shadow #sharp teefs

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morelikeravenbore · 5 months ago

Note

is there going to be any smut in how to make a villain? 👀

🦋 Hahaha anon coming in with the important questions 👀

Sooo short answer is no, there won't be any smut in Villain, lolol. There's a number of reasons for this, and I might expand on my thoughts on smut etc in another post, but basically at the current point in the story, Aurélie hasn't even been kissed yet. She's also just not the typa girlie who'd be comfortable with having her sex life written about in explicit detail (I've tried and it's weird and I just feel like she'd never forgive me for it.)

✨However✨

You anon'd me at a great time because the writing event in my HL server this month was Forbidden Fruit, and what better way to explore the dynamic between my li'l reserved, modest, very nervous girl and her clingy, overly affectionate, touchy boyfie. So without further ado, I present to you:

🦋 Content warnings: mature themes and sexual references, mostly fluff, pov character is a shy virgin, dry humping if you squint, of age post-Hogwarts. [1450 words] also on wattpad & AO3.

Noctilucent: luminous at night.

'Okay, now...' Aurélie took a deep, steadying breath. 'All you need to do is breathe,' she instructed in the most soothing voice she could manage.

Beneath her, sprawled out across the huge, squashy bed, his arms wide and his palms open to the ceiling, Sebastian let out an almighty snort of mirth.

'Breathe?' he laughed, immediately disrupting the state of perfect calm Aurélie had spent the last half hour cultivating. 'How can I breathe when you're sitting on me?'

Aurélie clapped her hand over his mouth.

'In through your nose,' she went on over the sound of his muffled laughter. 'Clear your mind of all distractio— eurgh!' She shrieked as something warm and wet pressed against her palm — his tongue. Horrified, she whipped her hand away from his mouth, wailing French invectives while he giggled beneath her.

Freshly graduated from Hogwarts, practicing Muggle meditation wasn't exactly how Aurélie imagined she'd be spending her first few weeks of adult freedom, but between Sebastian's chronic insomnia and her inability to stay asleep for longer than a few hours at a time, her need for relief from the insomnious nights had driven her to unorthodox measures.

But cultivating calm was no easy feat when it came to Sebastian Sallow; he was, after all, the epitome of impatience, as restless as a babbling brook and twice as chatty — not to mention a complete and utter boy whose inability to fall asleep was only exacerbated by the fact he was sharing a bed with a girl every night. A girl who, despite her vestal reservations, had rather a hard time easing herself into a state of calm when the aforementioned boy was shirtless beneath her.

Wiping her spitty hand across his stomach — and pretending to be thoroughly annoyed — Aurélie allowed herself a little indulgent peek of the wide-eyed, sleep-deprived maniac she was straddling: toned stomach and Quidditch-defined shoulders; golden-warm skin bathed in blue light from the jar of bluebell flames she kept by the bed; a novae of new freckles enhanced by the summer sun — he was noctilucent beneath her, like something borne of a dream, surely too unreal to belong to her.

As she dared to trail her fingertips across his stomach, Sebastian's breath stilled, his eyes glazed and his lips parted in silent adoration. To think that she'd fought against this — against him — for as long as she had, that she'd been so afraid of enduring more loss that the idea of falling in love had been the most unendurable thing in the world... Little did she know then, it was also the easiest, and she'd slipped into it so quietly that even now she couldn't quite pinpoint the moment it happened.

Perhaps it had been that very first day.

Though barely a shiver betrayed the tension of Sebastian's infractible restraint, Aurélie could feel it coiling in his stomach, his arms, his shoulders, pulling tighter each time he met her tentative movements with gentle upward thrusts of his own — but when she leaned down to trace the veins that bulged in his arms, starting at his elbow before dancing down to his calloused, upturned palms, he sucked in a breath and bucked his hips so suddenly that she almost toppled backwards.

He lunged forward, steadying her by the waist with a startled laugh before sliding his hands down to squeeze her bottom.

'Enjoying the view?' he teased, his eyes as bright with mirth as they were dark with desire.

'Eh oh!' she yelped, slapping his hands away. 'You're supposed to be avoiding distractions!'

'You are the distraction.' He tugged her down so they were chest to chest, racing heart against racing heart. 'And I don't want to avoid a single moment of this.'

Having only recently experienced her first kiss, sharing a bed with someone as physically affectionate as Sebastian, who expressed his feelings by hugging, kissing, pinching, squashing, squirming, pulling, biting, petting, and, apparently, palm-licking — usually while shirtless — was a bit of an adjustment. Still, though her newfound companionship came at the cost of sleeping half-smooshed beneath the brown-eyed, wild-haired embodiment of neediness — who seemed to grow an inch taller for every day closer he drew to his twentieth birthday and slept on both sides of the bed at once — it was one she never wanted to live without. Not even if it meant waking from a restless sleep with all manner of hard body parts pressing against her.

It was nice to be desired, even if she was still getting used to the idea of how very badly — and how very often — Sebastian desired her.

Blushing, Aurélie shifted her weight atop him. 'I can feel that, you know.'

'Feel what?' The wicked gleam in his eyes matched the grin that split across his face.

Her blush warmed. 'Your — baguette!' she stammered.

'I'd be disappointed if you couldn't.'

'Sebastian!'

'What? You're the one...kneading it!'

'Sebastian!' She rolled off him with an indignant squeak, but he only followed her, laughing madly as he flipped her onto her back and plonked his entire six-foot-something, half-naked body on top of her.

'It's hard to think of witty bread euphemisms when you're doing that!' he laughed, nuzzling the crook of her neck while she squirmed uselessly beneath him. 'Hard to think of anything, actually, except how cute you look when you're all flustered.'

Aurélie groaned, embarrassed by how responsive she was to his slightest touch, his softest breath, wishing she possessed at least an ounce of the seemingly boundless confidence that bolstered his every whim, to tell him what she wanted without blushing herself into oblivion.

'I like it when you touch me, you know.' Sebastian braced himself on his elbows and grinned down at her, his expression softening as he thumbed her hair away from her face. 'I'm not some forbidden fruit; you have my full and willing permission to touch me where ever you like.'

Aurélie made a sound like a moan and a snort rolled into one. 'Like here?' she teased, wiggling an arm free to squash his nose with her fingertip.

'Mmm...' he smirked. 'I was thinking a bit lower.'

She poked his chin.

'A lot lower.'

'Sebastiaaan...'

Laughing, he caught her finger and nibbled on it.

'Alright, alright, I'm sorry,' he said, mock-serious. 'What is it you want me to do?'

'Breathe!' she whined, kicking her feet against the mattress.

'Right. Breathe...' Fighting a smile, he dipped his head back to her neck and inhaled deeply, skimming his nose along her throat, her jaw, her chin, tickling all the sensitive spots he intuitively knew to kiss though she'd never had the nerve to ask.

She wished she had the nerve to ask now.

'And then?' he murmured, his lips brushing back and forth over her quickening pulse.

'B-breathe out.'

'Hmm.' His slow exhale was a warm caress across her face, gentle but persistent. 'If this is supposed to calm me down,' — he hummed against her throat, — 'it's definitely not working.'

'That's — because you're — doing it wrong.'

His eyes were endless when they lifted to meet hers again, entire galaxies reflected in the blue light; and there, glowing in the depths of them — brilliant and radiant and clear — was her.

'Then show me how to do it right,' he whispered, pressing her into the bed with his hips. 'Show me how to love you.'

A gentle nudge against his chest was all it took to reclaim her position on top of him; Sebastian rolled easily onto his back, his eager hands steadying her as he'd done before. But this time all his teasing humour was subdued beneath a reverent, half-lidded gaze, disturbed only by a flicker of amusement when she splayed her hands across his stomach and warned him not to fling her off again.

Taking her time now, she skimmed her fingers up his arm, from palm to elbow, elbow to shoulder, shoulder to face, summoning goosebumps over his skin as if by some unspoken command, a spell. Sebastian swallowed roughly, pushing his hips up to meet the downward pressure she applied, his throat bobbing, fists clutching the bedsheets. Aurélie felt the ripple of tension when she pressed down on him a little harder, the thrill of anticipation that hummed through his body into hers, tethering them both to a moment that felt universal in nature.

Infinite.

'Whatever you want, I'm yours,' Sebastian avowed, his voice thick. 'Just tell me what to do.'

Smiling demurely, Aurélie drew the blanket over them.

'Breathe in,' she instructed in the most alluring voice she could manage. 'And don't breathe out until I tell you to.'

#ask morelikeravenbore #morelikeravenbore writes #sebastian sallow #aurelie collins #sebaura #hogwarts legacy #hogwarts legacy oneshot #sebastian sallow oneshot #hogwarts legacy fanfiction #sebastian sallow fanfiction #hogwarts legacy oc #ravenclaw oc #slytherin x ravenclaw pairing #slytherin x ravenclaw #slytherin boys

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obsidianpen · 29 days ago

Note

twas the night before halloween

decided to act obscene

said to myself, oh that vodka looks nice

took a shot, no I didn't even think twice

might have taken one more

can't know for sure

because as the sun left the sky

so did my mind

a blackout perhaps,

what I did? don't even ask

so to all the penlings,

I send apologies

for worries and questions I cannot answer

probably should have called on my handler (roommate)

so with love I say my goodbyes

goodbyes to vodka and drunk fed lies

went to church to find god

found him after eucurist, im probably a fraud

a fraud because ill never stop reading gay wizard porn

no matter what prayers I have sworn

swore to god id follow the bible

but whose to say no glorys not the title

the title of my bible

not that obsidian pens liable

for all the freaks who ask for more updates

I chuck my 8$ vodka, barely even hesitate

chuck it in the trashcan, even though its half full

because the hangover rages like a bull

so I say one last time, sorry to my pens

love you the most this isnt where vodka anon ends

vodka anon, now sober girl

quiet frankly for how long? we can't know for sure

Obsidian my love, this is my apology poem you don't even have to post it. Horrible behavior even more horrible for the man whose shirt I stole and will not be giving back because im too embarrassed to see him again but who cares about a man I care about the girls and gays who read ao3 and the beautiful woman who write ao3 for us. So this is my apology poem.

I had a good laugh at this hahaha! Vodka anon now sober girl, I’m glad you’re okay, I too have a story of stealing a man’s shirt, these things happen, life goes on. Never stop reading gay wizard porn (we all know I’ll never stop writing it) 😬💕💕

#Vodka anon #sober girl

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zeggyzone · 5 months ago

Text

off-air | isekko

iso/gekko (valorant) tags: love confessions, domestic fluff, feelings realization, snuggling & cuddling, might be ooc, cross-posted on ao3

synopsis: while iso is trying to blow off some steam after a stressful day, gekko texts him. fifteen minutes later, he's in his best friend's room on wash day. bonding ensues.

sfw. 5.1k words.

notes: - most of this was written at 3-5 am, so if you see any grammatical errors, *no you didn't.* - iso and gekko have a pre-existing friendship; a close one at that! they have platonically held hands, hugged, all of that while trying to break iso out of his shell :) - sorry if it's out of character - i also wrote this while listening to iso and gekko's canonical spotify playlists, along with the isekko playlist made by lili on spotify! - the name of this fic in my documents is "The Oneshot Where Iso and Gekko Confess Over A Bathtub On A Random Tuesday" hahaha

STOKYO DRIFT, Cemetary Drive I said I’m ready to cash out I said I’m ready to– I said I’m ready to– I said I’m ready to–

Iso exhales.

Just a round at the Range. It’s that simple. Blow off some steam, Zhao Yu.

It’s that simple. No strings attached. It was just him, his Raging Hunter (which he customized with the help of Raze just a while back– she helped everyone with it at one point, and Iso was on her supposed list of clientele), and a bunch of robot dummies.

Truth be told, Iso didn’t even know why he was here. In recent meetings with Sage, he found himself sitting across from her in her own bed, talking about the nightmares he experiences on the daily. The gunfire, the blood, the flashes of violet.

Especially the gunfire.

Yet here he was, Raging Hunter in his hand, doing the one thing he knows how to do in a last-ditch effort to calm himself down. He pulls back the hammer with his thumb, exhaling as he flicks his arm towards the ‘start’ button, squeezing the trigger ever so slightly–

Bzzt.

What.

Iso tries to ignore the buzzing in his front pocket, gently vibrating against his side. He steadies his aim, but it buzzes again, and he sighs, holstering his Raging Hunter, and pulling out his phone.

SECURE SERVER_VAL.VP // PRIVATE MESSAGE: GEKKO-ISO

GEKKO [15:41 UTC]

yo yo yo can u help me clean wings ?

Iso blinks.

You have to send five back-to-back texts to get that point across?

ISO [15:42 UTC]

Why so sudden ?

GEKKO [15:42 UTC]

yk how he gets and he likes u Hes fussing so fuckin bad rn holy shit

[SYSTEM] Gekko sent an image. [A 0.5x photo. Gekko looks disgruntled at the camera. He’s in a black shirt, and you can see Wingman crawling out of the tub.]

Iso almost laughs.

ISO [15:42 UTC]

Let me clean up. Ill be there in 15

GEKKO [15:43 UTC]

THANK YOU DUDE I was going actually crazy you are like a life saver

ISO [15:42 UTC]

👍

Thumbs-up? Thumbs-up?

Holy shit.

Iso unholsters his sidearm, putting on the safety as he makes his way to the teleporter, walking through it with a shudder (he’ll never get used to it) and making another healthy stride toward the locker room. He passes Omen’s desk, glancing at his bonsai tree left with a refilled watering can as he puts four of his fingers on the handle, the fingerprint scanner whirring and clicking the locker open with a little green light. Iso puts away his gun in the tiny mold left in the back part of the locker.

On the little hanger for his mission outfit, he has a woven bracelet Gekko made him a few weeks prior; red, purple, white, and black in nature. He took it off before training. It means quite a bit to him, and he would hate to mess it up.

He goes to close his locker, looking at it for a moment, hesitating, then closing it.

He was going to help bathe Wingman– he doesn’t want to get it dirty.

Iso’s sneakers pitter against the floor, narrow steps suddenly growing heavy as he approached Gekko’s door. He knocks, putting his hands in his pockets immediately after.

Gekko doesn’t seem to notice, as Iso hears small Spanish curse words leave his lips behind the muffled door. Iso shrugs, pushing the sliding door open with a small huff. He closes it behind him and walks towards Gekko’s bathroom door, generously left open for his incoming guest.

The sight is comedic. Wingman is hurdled over his owner’s shoulder, trying to squirm his way out of Gekko’s grip, both hands reaching outward like a baby trying to reach something. Gekko has his hands on Wingman’s chubby jelly sides, holding him back with an iron grip. Wingman suddenly falls limp at the sight of Iso, except for the grabby hands that continue. Gekko turns around, confused.

“Oh, shit, you’re here.” His eyes widen, letting go of Wingman. He hops down to climb Iso like a jungle gym, and Iso picks him up before his pants get any soap on them, walking over to the tub once again, and placing Wingman in.

“Let me take off my jacket. I can’t really help with all this stuff on–” Iso says, turning on his heel. Gekko gives him an acknowledging ‘aight’ and very gently scolds Wingman to stay.

Iso walks to Gekko’s bed (his radivore sling was notably discarded on the bed— a pair of eyes look at him) tugging his hoodie over his head. He neatly lies it on the end of Gekko’s bed, having done so quite a few times before (Gekko often called Iso up for a friendly hangout that consisted of Iso knocking out a few hours into their gaming sessions). He looks at the gloves on his hands, removing them with the tiniest bit of clamminess.

He feels weird without them.

He tucks them into the pockets of the hoodie, sliding over to Gekko’s post, and kneeling on the bathmat. Wingman looks up at Iso expectantly. “I’ve never… washed a radivore before.”

“All good. It’s pretty damn simple if you ask me. Just lather the little guy up with some soap until he’s extra squeaky clean. It’s the same for the rest of my crew.” Gekko explains, handing Iso the soap along with a little glove with bristles. Gekko has one on his non-dominant hand. “And you literally can’t mess this up. Bro loves you.”

Iso nods, taking it. “Pfft, I hope so,” he responds, feeling the warm water against his one bare hand.

He’s not particularly used to having his gloves off. Sure, he takes them off when he has to, but otherwise, they stay on. He feels practically naked without them. The same goes for his headphones. His little earbuds are in his ears, playing music low enough to the point where he can still understand what Gekko is saying.

UBER EATS, Northside Hollow & Ethan Ross

Gekko watches as Iso puts on the glove. He places his bare hand to hold Wingman gently as Iso puts a generous amount of soap on the garment, lathering it on Wingman’s jelly head. He watches attentively, folding his arms on the edge of the bathtub to rest his head in. Gekko takes in the sight in front of him; Iso, in his bathroom, washing his little buddy with all of the benignity in the world.

Iso glances toward Gekko, a small huff leaving his lips, “So you called me here to do your dirty work for you?”

“No, I called you here to be Wingman’s .. uhh, social … buffer. He likes you. I’m using my resources to my advantage! Boom.” Gekko moves his hands to the best of his ability despite resting on them– his animated self refuses to go unseen even in a moment of exhaustion. “He’s been fussy all day,” Gekko reaches his gloved hand to lather some soap on the radivore’s back, “but the second you show up,” a short breath, “se convierte en un angelito.”

Iso understood ‘convierte’ and ‘angelito’ when placed together. He assumed from context clues… “He turns into an angel.”

He stifles a laugh.

…

“Hey,”

Gekko blinks, “What’s good?”

“I’ve been wanting to ask–” he keeps his gaze on Wingman, but he can feel Gekko staring him down, “–we never exchanged names. Of course, we have our callsigns, but … that’s different. I just feel since we’ve been hanging out so often we should refer to each other as something more … uh, friendlier than … Gekko. Or Iso.”

“Oh?” Gekko furrows his brows, running his bare hand through his prickly green hair, “Damn, you’re right,”

It was… odd, admittedly, but, when he really thought about it, Iso was right. How many weeks has it been? Hell, it’s probably been a bit more than a few months. He’s been hanging out with this guy almost non-stop and yet, they don’t know each other’s actual names.

Iso knocks him free from his thoughts. “You don’t have to tell me if you don’t want to.”

“No, no, I’m so down. Just, how do we like, go about this? Like… yo, man, my name is blah, blah, blah.”

Iso offers a playful smile, “Rock, paper, scissors for it?” he asks, swatting his bare hand in the air to remove excess droplets, drying it to the best of his ability. “If I lose, I go first. And vice versa.” He holds his fist out to indicate the beginning of the game.

Gekko laughs, a small grin on his face as he puts his fist up. “Oh, you’re on.”

“Aight– rock, paper, scissors, shoot–!”

Iso plays paper.

Gekko plays scissors. “Tough luck.”

Iso lets out a small laugh, returning to washing Wingman. He keeps his gaze on the radivore, feeling Gekko’s eyes burn into him like fire.

“My full name is Li Zhao Yu.” Iso makes sure to accentuate every letter.

“Li … Zhao Yu,” Gekko repeats it back to him, getting a few of the syllables wrong, but Iso is quick to correct him— gently, of course.

“Shit, that’s cool. So, it’d be just Zhao Yu, right?” He asks after the mild training, lifting his head up from the side of the tub, holding himself up by his chin.

“Yeah, basically.” Iso shrugs, returning to washing Wingman.

“Yo, could I mash those together? I think that’d be a pretty sick nickname,” before Iso could say anything, Gekko spits out, “Zhayu. It’s like, not even that different, but, it sounds cool as fuck, right?”

Iso looks at Gekko, eyes wide.

“I don’t have to use it if you don’t wanna—“

“No,” Iso says almost immediately, “I mean— no, I like it. I just haven’t had someone give me a nickname in— I don’t know— forever,” Iso admits with a small laugh, rinsing Wingman. “It’s nice. I like it.”

Gekko lets out the tiniest sigh of relief, “Good. I didn’t wanna like, overstep.”

Iso nods followed by a small hum of acknowledgement. “It’s your turn.”

“Oh, yeah— we doin’ full names, right?”

“Mhm.”

“Oh man,” Gekko says between a laugh, pushing himself to sit up straight. He reaches over for the towel on the counter, holding it and awaiting Iso to hold him up, clearing his throat, “My full, legal, name is Mateo Armendáriz De la Fuente.”

“… what.”

Gekko laughs even harder than last time, “Dude, that’s why I asked. It’s kind of a mouthful.” He bites back a laugh, “You can just call me Mateo.”

“Mateo … Armen—what? Woah, you’re right,” Iso says with a tiny laugh punctuating the end of his sentence, “if you think you butchered my name, I wouldn’t even know where to begin with yours.”

He then realizes the meaning behind his words, quick to defend himself, “I’m not saying your name is weird or anything— it’s just hard for me to pronounce— or uh, remember, in that sense.”

“Maybe I should just stick to Mateo.”

Gekko laughs, thankfully.

“I’ll learn your full name, trust me,” Iso says, drying off Wingman like a little baby.

“I know, man.”

“But, now that I’m looking at you… you really do strike me as a Mateo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Gekko raises a brow, a little smile on his lips.

“Oh— nothing, it just— makes sense?” Iso quickly explains, not wanting to offend.

“Dude, you’re chill. I’m just playin’.”

Iso blinks, turning back to Wingman. “One more thing,”

“Yeah?”

“Where did your crew’s names come from?” Iso asks out of the blue, holding Wingman up in the air next to his head, making him face Gekko with him.

“Honestly, most of them kinda just … came to me,” Gekko admits, not having an exact answer. “I kinda named them based on their whole ability thing—? I dunno how to explain it.”

“Dizzy has that plasma thing— and guess what! Makes people dizzy. Get it?” He shrugs, “Wingman’s kinda self-explanatory. He’s my wingman.”

“Then, uh, Thrash. She was kind of the more aggressive outta-all of them? And if we’re goin’ back to the whole ability-based-name-thing, Mosh seems pretty self-explanatory too, yeah?”

“I guess— makes more sense now,” Iso shrugs. “And that’s pretty cu—“

Cool.

“— cu-ool,” Iso catches himself, making a weird new word in trying to save himself from that embarrassment.

He quickly holds up Wingman for Gekko to dry, and lest Iso’s anticipations, Gekko doesn’t take Wingman from his hands, just running the towel on Wingman to dry him off.

Iso feels Gekko’s hands against his, hindered by the towel between them as he holds Wingman while Gekko pats him down to dry the little guy. A tiny rosyness creeps up to the round of Iso’s cheeks as he watches Gekko’s hands, hyper-aware of the fact that they would be touching if it weren’t for the towel working as a barrier.

Iso looks away, tapping his finger on Wingman as gently as he can to the beat of the song playing in his earbuds.

Gekko’s eyes flick up to Iso midway through the task, and he smiles. Gekko smiles up at Iso and he returns it without a second thought.

“Yo, you’re all red, amigo.”

No fucking way.

“Há? No, am I? I’m not, no, it’s just the light, no?” Iso sprints through his words, looking at Gekko everywhere but his eyes. He utters a curse in Chinese, tilting his head away in an effort to hide his supposed blush. “Sorry.”

backseat, jungle bobby & lentra.

“Pfft,” Gekko lets out the tiniest giggle, “It’s aight.”

Iso comes back to reality when Wingman shimmies out of his grip, running back to the harness on Gekko’s bed. He almost begs the little radivore to stay– to save him from this terrible situation. He thinks he could die.

Instead, Iso looks at the radivore harness like a broken man, and Gekko laughs even harder, forcing Iso to get up.

“I’m grabbing my hoodie.” He announces, shuffling towards the bed.

“Oh, come on– I don’t mean to tease–”

Iso rolls his eyes, falling onto Gekko’s bed, face first. He grabs his hoodie– gently pushing Gekko’s harness out of the way– now pulling the pull-over up under his chin as a pillow.

He didn’t want to believe he was in love with his best friend, but Iso knew he was too far gone to even deny it anymore. The way Gekko laughed, the way he teased him, the jokes he made, and the considerate things he did for him, whether it be making little woven bracelets or buying him Boba whenever he went out— that was all casual, right? It had to be.

Gekko walks out– Iso doesn’t notice– and sits near the headboard, looking down at him with yet another teasing grin. It’s fucking lethal.

Then, with that smile, Iso realizes.

Of fucking course it wasn’t.

Iso averts his gaze, jaw dropped as he came to that realization.

“Relax, bro. You’re gonna pop a blood vessel.” He hears Gekko say.

Iso shoves his face into his hoodie. There’s silence until Gekko asks the burning question,

“Were you going to say that it was cute, or am I crazy?”

Iso groans. “Do we really– do we really have to talk about this now??” He says with half of his speech muffled as he finally peeks up from his hoodie, blush flaring into his pale skin.

“I mean, you’ve slipped up a lot like that before. I dunno why you’re tweakin’ right now,” Gekko shrugs.

That sentence makes Iso’s heart drop.

“I’ve what.”

Gekko looks at Iso and is met with a beautiful picture; he’s resting on his bed (his!) and his eyes are a bright violet, looking at Gekko with a wide expression. If Gekko could peer into his mind, he’d only find that Iso is so embarrassed that he might as well have been stripped bare in public– but despite all of it, he finds Iso sprawled like this endearing. It’s hilarious, even– how did Iso not notice Gekko noticing all of the little moments? The stolen glances, the lingering touches, the late-night talks– Gekko almost laughs at his obliviousness.

The silence is almost suffocating, so Gekko begins, “Zhayu,” a breath, “you’re not as slick as you think.”

Gekko looks at Iso’s hands, and they’re balled into tight fists, and when he looks into those raging violet eyes again, they’re twitching.

“And…” Iso sounds out of breath, “You never told me?!”

Gekko blinks. Then he howls.

“No! Don’t laugh–!“ Iso pushes himself up, kneeling on the bed in a position that would definitely make his feet numb later, “Gekk– Mateo. How long? And— just how many times have I slipped up like this around you?” Iso curses just a few seconds after the delivery of that sentence, running a hand through his hair, forehead moist.

Gekko sits up straight, adjusting his sitting stance into crisscrossed, looking away as he puckers his lips, drumming his hands on his thighs, “Man, you know… like… was I supposed to count?”

Iso’s eyebrows drop.

“Mateo, I will strangle you right here, right now.” Iso threatens, but his hands don’t move from his knees. Gekko looks at him with a dubious look, and Iso realizes he isn’t exactly feeding into the whole ‘fear factor’ of it. He’s quick to lift up his hands in front of him and exaggerate the motion as if he’s moving Gekko’s head back and forth like a maraca.

It’s silent.

Then, it’s enough to make Gekko fall into a giggle fit. Then, Iso gets mad that he’s not taking his threat seriously. Then, Iso is so mad that he starts laughing. Hard.

He’s hurled over on his knees, holding his stomach as he falls onto his side, just next to Gekko’s knee, and his gut hurts. His gut hurts from laughing, and Iso realizes he’s laughing with no one better than Gekko himself. Iso cough-laughs, covering his mouth. Gekko is hitting himself with his fist, smack dab in the chest to stop himself from coughing. Iso remembers the little ‘I lowkey have asthma’ and one last laugh bubbles out from his throat.

He looks at where the woven bracelet Gekko made him a few weeks ago would be and imagines it; purple, white, red, and black, all woven together to create a sense of Iso in itself.

He feels naked. Yet the mirage reminds him that he would protect it with his life.

Gekko deflates, his arms lining up behind him to keep himself steady. His head falls to where Iso’s head is, then his unusually bare wrist.

“Where’s your bracelet?” He asks, reaching over, and tapping on the little pulse point where it would be. “I thought you liked it.”

“I didn’t want to mess it up when we cleaned Wingman,” Iso breathes, his voice tired.

Gekko hums.

Iso blinks.

“You’re my best friend, you know that?” Iso says blankly, feeling Gekko’s fingers brush up against his wrist ever so slightly as he retreats them back to hold himself up. Iso’s fingers twitch with anticipation. He bites his lip softly, looking at Gekko’s surprisingly soft hands, despite them looking so rough.

Iso keeps half of his face in the sheets, left cheek squished up against the surface. He rests on the bed, getting comfortable with Gekko at his side, legs crossed and looking at him like he is a piece of valuable, fragile treasure and not the cold-hearted ‘Dead Lilac’ killer everyone made him out to be.

No, Iso corrects himself, not everyone. Me.

Iso is who makes himself out to be the Dead Lilac. He leaves that behind today; hopefully forever.

“And you’re mine, querido.” Gekko breathes, his foreign tongue slipping. Gekko registers what he said seconds later, quick to change the subject, “You look like a cat like this.”

Iso mumbles, “Querido? What does that…” But he gives up halfway through the question, mostly because he knows Gekko won’t tell him what it means. “A cat?” He instead asks, raising a brow. Gekko flicks his cheek, and he mumbles a small “ow” as soon as the stinging feeling occurs. “I’m not going to meow if that’s what you’re asking.”

A chuckle, “That sucks.”

“Ew, you want me to meow?” Iso feigns a laugh, hiding his full face in the sheets to muffle the tiny effervesce, before coming back to look up at Gekko. “You’re so weird, Mateo.”

“Hater.”

Iso sticks his tongue out, lifting his right arm to flick Gekko’s nose.

“Ow.”

Then it’s quiet. Iso hates quiet.

“Teo. I want to ask you something.”

supernova, Godly the Ruler.

Gekko feels like he knows what’s coming. “Ask away.”

“Have you ever thought about …” Iso pauses, looking away to regain some of the composure that he lost as he began the sentence, “Have you ever thought about us? And what we are?” Iso exhales, unaware he is holding his breath. “Because I don’t know what we are at this very moment.”

Iso had avoided eye contact for so long. He brings himself to look at Gekko, and he looks at him the second the look in his best friend’s eyes alters.

“I have.” A deep breath, “Many times.”

“What do you think about? What are we?” Iso asks.

He quickly adds to the end, “To you?”

“I…” Gekko purses his lips, “Well, right now. We’re just homies, yeah?”

“At the moment … I’d say so.”

Iso looks at where the bracelet would be— a fond reminder of their camaraderie. Then he looks into Gekko’s eyes and finds the same unreadable look. He looks at Iso’s wrist with such fondness. Happiness. Content. A secret fourth thing. Iso finds comfort in it.

“What about everything else you’ve thought of?”

“You really wanna know?”

“Do you want to tell me?” Iso asks, avoiding Gekko’s gaze, and he realizes that their two hands are almost grazing— holding each other. Iso’s hand twitches again. “If so, yes.”

“Pfft,” Iso swears he sees a mischievous glint in Gekko’s eyes, “Least serious… uuh…”

“I’ve thought of kissing you.”

Iso’s face distorts, pursing his lips as he shoots up from his lying position. “Least serious?! That’s the most uncasual thing I can think of!” He almost shouts out of pure shock. He’s not angry, just confused.

Gekko belly laughs, his hand smacking onto his stomach to support himself, “I’m playin’! There’s stuff before that, tonto.”

Iso wants to smack him for messing with him like that. That thought is wiped when he sees the red against Gekko’s ears and he’s done for. Smitten.

“And… compared to other shit, I think that’s pretty tame.”

…

“You’re so gross.” Iso blurts out.

“What? You wanted the truth, so you got the truth,” Gekko holds his hands up in defense before falling next to him again, “and to give you the whole truth, if I were to tell you what I’m thinking now, it’d be... that… ay…” Gekko’s right hand returns to his face, covering his mouth and trailing down his jaw, “maybe there have been times I’ve thought about us– and not as what we said we were a few minutes ago.”

Iso understands those connotations. He looks in the middle of their laps, almost touching. He exhales.

“I would say that the thought is mutual.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah.” A pause, “... Yes.”

“Mateo, I—“ Iso purses his lips. “I can’t imagine my life without you in it.”

“You welcomed me. Open arms. I don’t know if you… if you knew, but, you invited me anyway. I didn’t know if you were just like that with everyone, but– either way, you– you are just… perfect. I got to know you and I was like, how could anyone ever hate this guy? You’re everything, you’re all that there is right, and, wǒ qù, I can’t even fucking describe–”

It’s hot. Then Iso realizes why.

Gekko leans in, pressing their lips together in a tender, soft embrace. Iso’s lips are the tiniest bit chapped against Gekko’s fairly soft ones, and he eats it all up. He relishes the feeling of his lips on Gekko’s— his best friend.

He stays like that for a hot minute, pulling away and looking at Gekko like a lost kitty who had found homage in him. He catches his breath.

“... I didn’t know how to shut you up–”

“Oh my God.” Iso smacks Gekko’s shoulder and in return, he pokes him in the side.

Iso jolts, letting out a quiet yelp— one that’s a bit out of character for his assassin background.

Then Gekko has a devious look on his face.

Was the fabled ‘Dead Lilac’ … ticklish?

Iso quickly covers his mouth in embarrassment, grip tightening as he realizes the noise he just let out. He looks at Gekko.

“No way.”

“No. It wasn’t anything. That wasn’t me, it was … Thrash—“ Iso quickly tries to back himself up, hand slipping from his mouth and immediately going to cover his sides as a last defense.

“Uh-huh. And where is Thrash?” He asks, nudging his head towards his harness as his hand reaches over to an exposed part of Iso’s side.

“Mateo!” Iso quickly scrambles away, rolling over to the other side of the bed, getting on his knees, and holding his left arm in front of him, creating distance between them as his right arm wraps around his own waist, trying to protect himself from an impending tickle attack.

“I will wrestle you on this bed and win.”

“I have little siblings and cousins. Fuckin’ bring it.”

And then he pounces.

The tickle match is full of empty threats, foreign curses, and lots of giggles. Too many. There was a cackle here and there, maybe even a snort. By the time it ended, Gekko fell from his place on top of Iso, lying next to him with a few laughter-filled coughs. Iso catches his breath.

“Mateo,”

A breathless “Yeah?”

“I wanna be your boyfriend.”

Iso’s headphones die.

A deep breath, “Can I?”

Iso stares at the ceiling. He notices Gekko is, too.

It’s quiet. So fucking quiet.

But Iso can handle it now.

Gekko is next to him, their arms are touching, and the silence isn't deafening for once. He feels the energy in the room and it doesn’t suffocate him, if anything, he’s breathing better.

“Yeah. I think I’d like that.”

Iso turns on his side. Gekko faces him.

Iso’s tired expression shifts into a happy, close-eyed smile as he tackles Gekko into a bear hug, invariably pushing him down onto the bed, putting his full body weight onto the poor guy, hugging him tightly. “Thank you.”

Gekko let out an involuntary gasp as Iso suddenly tackled him down onto the bed, nearly winding him as felt Iso’s full weight. He laughed softly, the air knocked out of him as he lay there under, returning the hug with equal enthusiasm, wrapping his arms around Iso and holding him tightly against his chest.

“Yeah, mi corazón,” he said softly, “Thank you.”

“Corazón,” Iso exhales against Gekko’s neck, pushing himself off from the top, “what does that mean?” He asks, breathing against Gekko’s chest, cheek squished against it. He holds him softer now, breathing in Gekko’s cologne.

“My heart,” Gekko says, a careful hand running up Iso’s clothed back, drawing small circles, “you are my heart, Zhao Yu.”

“If I am your heart,” he feels Gekko’s heartbeat against his cheek, “then, you are my treasure,” Iso smiles, “bǎo bèi.”

“Bǎo bèi…” he repeats sleepily, “mi tesoro.” Gekko breathes.

“I love it when you speak Spanish, Teo.” Iso says, nickname rolling off his tongue tiredly. “I don’t understand it, but it’s…” a huff, “nice.”

Gekko has a feeling he wanted to say something else, “Yeah?”

Iso realizes he’s fucking done for (again), “¿Te gusta cuando hablo español, mi tesoro?”

“Augh, stop it,” Iso rolls his eyes, pushing Gekko’s face back by his chin, looking away, laughing just a little bit. “You’re such a tease, sha bī.”

“Aww, is that another cute nickname?”

“No. I called you an idiot.”

“Oh. Chúpamela.” Gekko deadpans, flicking Iso’s forehead with little to no remorse.

Iso laughs and realizes that this is all he has ever wanted. This was bliss, and Iso has felt this way for as long as he was in Gekko’s presence. He moves ever so slightly, just so he can smell Gekko’s cologne, and his new boyfriend allows it. It smells of lemon zest with the faint undertones of green apple and vanilla. Iso swears that he can smell the tiniest bit of cedarwood. That combination with Gekko’s personal musk makes him dizzy. (Pun intended)

“You smell good.”

“You like my cologne? I wanted to try a new one.” Gekko says breathily, drumming the pads of his fingers on Iso’s back in a rhythmic pattern.

“I know. You smelled different.” Iso mumbles, inhaling. “I like this one better, though. The other one was too…” He thinks of a descriptor, “Smoky.”

“I used to layer two colognes,” Gekko admits, “The footnotes on it were tobacco, vanilla, then uhh… truffle, I think.”

“Too smoky.”

“It was a gift from Brimstone. I felt kinda bad,” He mumbled, “I’d feel better if he taught me how the hell he got his score so high in the video games in the basement.”

“You’re still trying to beat it?”

“Yeah.”

“… wait, you noticed that I changed my cologne?” Gekko blinks, looking down at Iso, who looks up to him bashfully.

“Maybe,” he exhales, adjusting his position to face away from Gekko, “it’s a very discernible smell— anyone would notice.”

“Sure.”

Gekko slightly spoons Iso, resting his head atop his, breathing in. “Damn, your hair smells like…” he thinks, “Tangerines?” he says with a slight hint of confusion in his voice.

“It’s just my shampoo,” Iso hums, shifting himself to tilt his head up at Gekko, “I like tangerines.”

“Me too,” Gekko says.

Quietly, Iso asks, “We just gonna stay like this?”

“What time is it?”

Iso looks at the alarm clock to the side. Before he can speak, his stomach grumbles, which prompts Gekko to ask instead, “Have you eaten?”

“I had breakfast.”

“You need to eat.”

Iso exhales knowing there’s no stopping Gekko– he’s already getting up and Iso follows that action. It’s quick, it’s swift, and his new boyfriend grabs his wrist and pulls him up onto his feet, intertwining their hands. They’ve held hands before– you know, in cases where Gekko is dragging him through a crowd at a festival or Iso has to pull him away from getting distracted while the agents go shopping. But this was different. The old Iso would probably tug his hand away, but the new Iso is comforted by this scenario– better yet, he seeks it. He never wants to let go of it and he doesn’t think he ever will. Gekko’s touch is grounding and Iso feels his mind go quiet as their fingers interlace. His free hand comes to remove his headphones and awkwardly puts them in the case, shoving his hand into his pocket.

“Alright.”

He’s gotten used to this.

hope you enjoyed! it's my second valorant fic i've written, so hopefully i did them justice.

here's my twitter! check it out please i need moots (not just valorant) LMAO

#they make me sick #im ill #isekko world domination #valorant #isekko #iso valorant #gekko valorant #iso #gekko #iso x gekko #riot games #oneshot #mateo armendáriz de la fuente #mateo armendariz de la fuente #li zhao yu #lilypad: gekko #lilac: iso #apex predator: isekko

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