#and he's easily the scariest

[jstoddwrites]

random:

but i genuinely believe that bruce goes full billionaire father on Christmas. it is EASILY the best excuse he has to spoil the fuck out of his kids, and buy literally every single thing he thinks they would like. what are they gonna do, tell him no??? it's christmas, he's SUPPOSED to buy gifts, he's SUPPOSED to try and buy their love. if there is one day a year he gets to act a fool, and swipe his card as many times as he likes it is then.

and because he's such a freak who, for all his faults, fucking LOVES his kids -- he absolutely has a W.E elf squad, 2 elves assigned to each kid, whose sole job is to accumulate a list and find every single item on that list, and if that means haggling and daring to get into a fist fight for the last one, you better fucking do it. he is paying big money to make sure everything is secured. . . do not fail him.

everyone's still haunted by the 2013 "incident" involving dick grayson wayne, a lack of an indoor trampoline, and an uncomfortably cold conference room.

[psyduckz]

kind of sad that pyramid head is misconstrued as a monster, when really he’s a blue collar worker in a small town just doing his best. terrorizing white guys and such

[helimir]

This sequence of episodes (Vergesson heist and its aftermath) are also a testament to the sheer determination of the mighty nein, both in the narrative and on a meta level.

When Trent shows up in Vergesson, Matt makes it clear that Ikithon wants to talk. He makes no actual attack on the PCs, and Matt openly expresses surprise when Caleb starts immediately casting offensive spells. They very easily could have been caught there, they only make it out because of Caleb’s nat 20 counterspell.

Then again in Nicodranas, Trent just wants to talk! He’s just curious! And he backs them into a corner that there really should be no way out of… but then they come up with a way. A crazy genius way that Matt could not have predicted.

In a situation where it would have been so easy to let the DM’s expectations combined with the mechanics of the situation guide them into a particular course of action… the mighty nein said ‘fuck that, it’s bad, we’re running’.

Ikithon’s manipulation and Matt’s signaling that a conversation is a viable story path is no match for Caleb’s abject fear and the Mighty Nein’s ride or die attitude. Caleb really said ‘this is the scariest man in the world and I’ll burn down anything including myself before I let him touch your families’ and the Mighty Nein said ‘we’re with you.’ This is the same party that walked across the continent to save part of their family, and it shows.

[decojellyfish]

OH MY GOD I just fell in love with the blog and not if you are taking requests but if so I would like to suggest a guard dog!Ghost and Abandoned kitten!reader where price maybe adopt the reader and ghost take care of her??

I am so sorry this took so long! But thank you SO much for being my first request/ask! This idea is really cute, I'm sorry it's a bit short, but I hope you like it! Also, I hope this makes up for the angst fic about Dragon! Price lol

------

Bonbon

Hybrid AU! TF141 (Retired) Guard dog! Ghost x Kitten! Reader x Owner! Price !!No Romance For Obvious Purposes!!

SFW ~ Fluff

Warnings: None!

───♡───────────── Beginning

10:30 AM. That was the time John Price would go grocery shopping every day. Today’s list was a few ingredients for tonight’s dinner, more rawhide for his rescue dog, Ghost, and paper towels. What he didn’t expect to be suddenly added to the list, after he had just bought and paid for his groceries, was a kitten. Today, Price had to take a different route to the grocery store. The usual trail he would take was under heavy construction, much to his dismay. But he still managed to get to the store. About 4 minutes after leaving the store, he passed by a short alleyway. Now, no one ever really pays any mind to alleys. Until a noise comes from said hypothetical alleyway. And that’s just what happened. A little grunt, followed by a small cry, and then the sound of a takeout box crashing onto the ground. It made the retired captain stop in his tracks and turn his head to look into the dark alley. He could only hear tiny little munches now, and he could only make out the tiniest little figure in the void. Price made sure to be careful with his steps, he could tell that this little thing could be easily startled. Then he finally realized what he had come across.

It was a you! A little kitten and a very hungry one at that. You were munching on someone’s thrown-out, moldy, spaghetti, your tiny little fangs doing the best they could at tearing the pasta apart. It didn’t seem like you’d been there for that long, considering how young you looked. You remained in a little cardboard box, that appeared to be your makeshift home. It was filthy and withering away, like the blanket you had too. And your clothes. And you in general. You were a very dirty kitten. It didn’t help that your being hungry all the time caused you to be a messy eater.

By the time you had realized a big thing had snuck up behind you, your face was already coated in marinara. You snapped your head to look at the big creature and quickly folded your ears back and fluffed your little tail up. You hissed with all your might, knowing that you were probably the scariest thing this large figure, well over five times your size, had ever seen. Price only looked at you, taking in your starving appearance. Eating tossed food was unhealthy for a young thing like you. Surely, he had to have something on him that would make you trust him. He set his bags of groceries down and searched his pockets. He was relieved when he found one of those strawberry bonbons in his back pocket. You know, the ones that only grandmas seem to have. He unwrapped it and set it down in front of your hissing form. He would then grab his bags and slowly back away, watching for any kind of movement that came from you. After what felt like ten minutes, you would sneak up to the bonbon. Cautiously, you would reach your little hand out to it and snatch it right into your mouth. Price was almost terrified, thinking you would choke on it with how disparate you were for this little piece of candy. But thankfully, you didn’t. You would sit there and just let the hard candy melt in your mouth. This tasted so much better than moldy pasta. You looked up at the guy who gave you this candy, reaching up and making grabby hands for more. Price was relieved at your reaction, taking it as an okay that you wanted to be picked up. So he scooped you up into his arms and began the journey home.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ghost could already smell his owner through the door, peeved that he was a little later than arriving home on his usual time. But something was off about Price’s smell. There was an additional scent, something he’d never smelled before. It was a rancid smell, especially overwhelming due to his strong nose. Whatever Price was bringing home, it needed to either be cleaned or immediately disposed of. The door opened, and Price would quickly set his bags of groceries down before going into the bathroom. Ghost would pause, processing that he’d just seen his owner with what looked like a tiny human. Had he been seeing a mistress of some sort??? Ghost would’ve known, he would’ve smelled some perfume on his owner by now. He continued to think about it while he took the groceries and began to put them away in the kitchen.

Price had drawn a bath, ensuring the water was warm but not scalding. You were sitting on the bath rug, looking around the bathroom you were in. The large dog man sitting in the doorway wasn’t that subtle, so you looked at him too. You looked at him for a long time, mostly because he’d been staring at you for a while. It was like a staring contest between the two of you. “That should be good.” Price said to himself, turning around to you. He watched the silent stares between you and Ghost, causing him to chuckle before he picked you up and gingerly set you down in the warm, bubbly water. You mewed and squealed in protest like any other cat would. Price would quietly shush you as he began to mush shampoo into your hair and tail.

After your little bath, during which you spent a good chunk of it verbally disapproving until you realized it wasn’t doing anything. Now, you were content. You’d been swaddled up in a large towel, your hair air-drying as you rested on the couch. Price could tell you were happy because you sounded like an active car engine. You were purring, and you were purring loud. You hadn’t felt this warm and cozy since… well, you’ve never been warm or cozy once in your life. You were always cold, hungry, and never comfortable. Now, you had this random guy clean all the dust, dirt, and grime off of you and now he was preparing food for you. And yeah, this big dog who’s constantly trying to figure out why you suddenly appeared in his home. But you were willing to put up with him. Eventually, Price came back with a small plate filled with soft foods. He would spoon-feed you a bit of squishy rice to which you happily ate it up, you were starving. You would loudly purr through your little munches, causing Price to chuckle. “This must be a lot better than the rubbish you were stuck with earlier, yeah?” You wouldn’t respond, but still purred and opened your mouth for another bite, to which Price readily spoon-fed you some more.

Ring ring! The sound surprised all three of you, Price was getting a phone call. “Agh, work…” He grumbled when he checked the caller ID. “Ghost, why don’t you feed the wee one for a bit, hm?” He handed the plate and small spoon to his big scary dog, to which, he begrudgingly agreed as it looked like he had no choice. Ghost looked down at you as Price stepped away to take the call. You looked up at him, both of you resuming your staring contest. Until you meowed, impatiently. Ghost rolled his eyes, hastily feeding you a spoonful of pudding. The sweetness of the dessert surprised you, you’d never had a dessert that was fresh, cold, and not coated in mold or garbage juices. You immediately meowed again, demanding more. This big monster of a dog couldn’t believe he was being bossed around by this little kitten! But alas, he fed you another spoonful of pudding, then rice, until the whole plate was empty.

About 10 minutes later, Price returned to the living room. He was pleasantly surprised by the scene that beheld him. You were curled up on the couch, sleeping soundly while Ghost was curled around you and loudly snoring. Price could only chuckle to himself, shaking his head before he grabbed a blanket. He placed it over you and Ghost and relaxed on the couch as well.

✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦ . 　⁺ 　 . ✦

Ghost woke up, immediately alert when he couldn’t smell you. He could hear Price in the kitchen, cooking up dinner for that night. The dog-hybrid got up and began his search for you, faintly being able to smell you from down the hall. Peering into Price’s bedroom, he could see that the television was on. It was set to a children’s cartoon channel, and then he saw you. You were swimming in one of Price’s shirts, making biscuits out of his fluffy blankets as you happily watched cartoons. He would walk up to the bed, sitting on the side of it. His weight caused the bed to dip on one side, making you almost roll over if it wasn’t for Ghost panicking and swiftly holding you in place before he moved to the center of the bed, balancing the weight out. It didn’t phase you, you just went back to making biscuits. It made Ghost chuckle, your nonchalant-ness. Price entered the bedroom after about an hour, ready to announce that dinner was ready. He was pleasantly surprised when he saw you and Ghost playing together. He was using one of his old toys that he had held onto since he was a puppy, playing tug of war with you. Obviously, he was going easy on you, his grasp on the toy limp while you were gripping the toy between your teeth like your life depended on winning. But it made him smile when he saw how happy you would get every time you won each round.

But he would definitely make it harder to win when you grew up.

───♡───────────── End

If you have any requests or asks, feel free to submit them! And thank you again, anonymous, for being my first request!

[jksarchives]

TOO LATE

Even after all the promises he made, Jungkook was too late.

➪ PAIRING; jungkook x reader

➪ GENRE; angst, light fluff

➪ TAGS/WARNINGS; mafia au, ANGST, blood, violence, attempted sa (not in detail), use of weapons, major character death, swearing, light fluff, mingyu cameo

➪ WORDCOUNT; 12.3k

𐚁₊⊹

You sat at the dinner table alone — again. The food that was once warm was now completely cold and untouched on your plate. The atmosphere around you felt heavy. The familiar silence continued to outstretch and the only sound that accompanied you was the soft ticking of the clock on the wall.

The bodyguards stationed in the corners of the dining hall remained expressionless as they stood like statues. You were beginning to get sick of their presence and how it constantly reminded you of the world your fiancé belonged to. A world that you had stepped into because of love, but now, you weren’t sure if love was enough to keep you there.

It was the fifth time this week that you ate dinner alone. It was becoming a routine you didn’t sign up for. On normal days, Jungkook would sit across from you and tease you about the way you always saved your favorite bite for last, or playfully steal food off your plate.

Meal times were your little escape. It was a time when Jeon Jungkook wasn’t the feared leader of a ruthless mafia gang, but just your Jungkook — the man who would hold your hand under the table and kiss you between bites when he’d get the chance.

But lately, he’d been distant. His seat was empty more often than you were used to, and his presence was fading like a dream slipping through your fingers.

Jungkook wasn’t just any ordinary man. He was a king in the underworld. He was a leader that commanded respect and instilled fear in those who considered themselves fearless. He built his empire on discipline and strategy, knowing how to put people in their place without mercy.

He never harmed the innocent though, but when it came to threats, he was quick and remorseless. Drugs, weapons, and underground dealings — he was entangled in all of it. He moved each piece like a master chess player. He lost count of the number of enemies he made along the way, men who wanted nothing more than to see him fall from his grace. But Jungkook was always one step ahead of them. He always prepared with his mind sharper than any blade.

To the world, he was cold, ruthless, and terrifying. His eyes alone were enough to make someone’s legs tremble, or in most cases, wet their pants. He was like a shadow that lingered over the city, and his name was usually whispered in fear.

But to you, he was different.

When it came to you, Jungkook’s walls would fall apart. The hardness in his gaze would melt the moment he would see you. His dark eyes would soften in a way they never did for anyone else. You were his only safe space. Only you could ground him to his senses and to gain control of himself again.

He adored you, and protected you with a devotion that sometimes felt overwhelming. The only reason he had so many bodyguards surrounding you was because of the countless threats he faced daily. Losing you was the one nightmare he couldn’t afford.

You were his world, his universe.

And yet, despite his love for you, you saw the side of him that people knew him for. The side of him that made others fear him. You saw what he was capable of and how easily he could take a life when it was necessary.

Jungkook tried not to scare you off or worry you by coming home covered in blood. But the days where he would, the scent of iron that clung to his clothes was sickening in many ways. He never let his victims go easily, and that was the scariest part of loving him. No matter how gentle he was with you, you couldn’t ignore the darkness beneath his skin.

You knew people whispered about you behind closed doors, calling you insane for staying by his side. Loving a man like Jungkook was dangerous. But despite everything, you couldn’t walk away.

Maybe they were right. Maybe you were insane.

Jungkook was always busy, but he was never too busy for you. He would make time, whether it was a quick coffee break together or late-night conversations in bed when the rest of the world was asleep.

But lately, things had changed. As his nights grew longer, his time with you became shorter. You saw that stress was wearing him down, and with each day that passed, he became more distant.

But to you, it wasn’t the lack of time — it was his attitude.

He was different now, or rather, colder. Some nights, he wouldn’t even bother coming to bed, and choose to drown himself in work instead. And when he did, he was exhausted and barely spoke a word to you before drifting off into another cycle of restless sleep.

Other times, he would lash out and let his frustration spill over onto you in sharp words and tense silences. He was never physically violent — Jungkook would rather die than hurt you that way — but his emotional distance was hurting you just as deep.

At first, you brushed it off, assuming he was stressed and had too much on his plate. He would usually come back to you when things settled down. But as the days passed, you realised the hurt was sinking in.

You missed him. You missed the version of him who would hold you in his arms and promise to keep you safe, who would kiss your lips forehead and tell you how much he loved you. You missed the way he used to smile at you like you were his entire world.

Now, it felt like he was drifting away from you, and you didn’t know how to hold on.

A part of you wanted to confront him and demand to know what was going on. But another part of you — the part that saw his darkest side — hesitated. You weren’t afraid of Jungkook, but you were afraid of pushing him further away.

So you stayed silent, and swallowed the loneliness that was slowly suffocating you.

As you sat there at the empty dinner table, staring at the untouched food, you wondered how much longer you could keep pretending that everything was okay.

And more than that. You wondered if Jungkook even noticed that you were hurting.

You were tired of Jungkook’s attitude. Tired of the way he barely spared you a glance when he was home. Tired of feeling like you were the only one holding onto this relationship while he let it slip through his fingers. You tried to be understanding, tried to be patient, but the loneliness was eating you alive.

It wasn’t just about him being busy anymore. It was about how he treated you. The hurtful words, the cold silences, the way he acted like your presence was an afterthought. You weren’t asking for much, just a little bit of his time, a moment where he could look at you like he used to, where you could feel like you mattered.

But it had been weeks since you had last felt his warmth. And you couldn’t take it anymore.

You decided that tonight, when he came home, you would talk to him. No more bottling up your emotions, no more pretending you were okay when you weren’t. You needed to know where you stood in his life.

At the same time, you prayed he wouldn’t lash out.

Your appetite was long gone at this point. You got up from the chair with your untouched plate of food and walked into the kitchen. You felt drained and your heart heavy with everything you had been suppressing for too long. You didn’t even notice Jungkook entering the house.

The moment he stepped into the kitchen, his sharp eyes landed on you just as you were dumping your food into the bin.

“Seriously, Y/n?” he spoke up. “Wasting food again? Why the hell do you even cook if you’re not going to eat?” he said in irritation.

Your body tensed at his words, and slowly, anger flared inside you. You spun around and placed the plate into the sink with more force than necessary, and the loud clatter echoed in the kitchen. Your patience finally ran out.

“You tell me, Jungkook,” you snapped as your eyes burned with unshed tears.

“Why am I doing this? Why do I sit at that damn table every night, waiting for you like a fool? Why do I keep hoping you’ll come home and actually spend time with me?” your voice cracked with frustration and hurt.

“Fuck, I’m not doing this with you anymore” Jungkook let out a long sigh, and ran his tattooed hand through his already disheveled hair before turning away, as if he had no energy to argue. But that only fueled your anger even more.

“Do what?” you snapped, “have a decent and mature conversation?”

You clenched your fists. “You know what, Jungkook? I’m tired. I’m so fucking tired of your attitude. I get that you’re busy, I get that your world is dangerous, but that doesn’t give you the right to treat me like this. I’m not your enemy. I’m not someone you can just ignore until it’s convenient for you.”

Jungkook’s jaw tightened, but you pushed forward because you were unable to stop the words spilling from your lips. “All I want is for you to spare some time for me. Just a little. Because I miss you. I miss us. Why can’t you understand that?”

Jungkook exhaled sharply, as if he was barely holding onto his patience. “Like I said, Y/n, I’m not doing this with you. I don’t have time for this. I have another mission to go to” his voice was firm and cold, but the worst part was the way he wouldn’t even look at you.

“I want you to stay in the house. Don’t go out. Understand me?” it was only then when his dark eyes finally met yours. His expression was unreadable, but there was something in his eyes that made your stomach twist. A warning almost.

You swallowed the lump in your throat. “Another mission? Seriously? Again?” your voice was rising now, the pain overtaking your restraint.

“What the hell is up with you lately? We’ve been together for almost seven years, and I’ve never seen you like this!”

Jungkook’s expression hardened, but you pressed on. “Please,” your voice softened, cracking towards the end.

“I just want to spend time with you. It’s been so long, Jungkook. I miss you. I miss your kisses. I miss your warmth and your stupid little jokes” your eyes shimmered with tears while your chest ached. “I don’t need grand gestures, I just need you. Can’t you give me that?”

For a split second, something sort of guilt and regret flickered in Jungkook’s eyes. You weren’t sure. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced by frustration.

“Well, I can’t fucking be there for you twenty-four-seven Y/n!” he snapped. “I have important things to take care of! I run a mafia gang, do you get that? I have responsibilities that you can’t even begin to understand!”

You flinched at the venom in his words, but he wasn’t done.

“Why can’t you just understand that? Why do you have to be so needy and clingy every single day?” his voice kept rising. “Just get over it already!”

His words hit you harder than any bullet ever could.

Needy. Clingy. As if wanting to be with him was a burden. As if your love, your presence, was nothing but an inconvenience.

You stared at him as your heart shattered into a million pieces, and in that moment, you realised something. You weren’t sure if the man standing in front of you was the same Jungkook you had fallen in love with.

And worse. You weren’t sure if you could keep waiting for him to come back.

But there’s always a second side of a story.

Two weeks ago, a small group of Jungkook’s highly skilled men were shot down by a rival gang in a brutal ambush that shook the very foundation of his organisation. Since then, he had been working tirelessly to track them down. He spent sleepless nights planning counterattacks, calling in reinforcements, and trying to ensure the safety of what remained of his team.

But with that responsibility came an unbearable level of stress, and that stress had started to take a toll on him. He became more irritable and more distant. His patience wore thinner each day, and when he wasn’t out dealing with gang matters, he spent what little time he had at home in a constant state of frustration. The worst part was that you became an unintentional victim of his temper.

You tried to be understanding. You knew his world was dangerous and the pressure he was under. But that didn’t make it any easier when he lashed out at you. That didn’t make it hurt any less when he acted like you were just another problem on his never-ending list of things to deal with.

And tonight was no different.

The moment the words left his mouth, you felt the sting of them like a slap. You flinched slightly, and your body tensed as your vision blurred with more tears.

Jungkook’s anger wavered when he saw your expression shift. He didn’t mean to raise his voice like that. He didn’t mean to let his exhaustion get the better of him. But it was too late. Your heart was already breaking.

Tears finally began to cascade down your cheeks, and the sight made Jungkook curse under his breath. He hated seeing you cry. He hated being the reason for your pain, yet lately, it felt like he was doing nothing but hurting you. That realisation made his chest twist with an ache that wasn’t just guilt but something more. Something he couldn’t quite put into words.

Sighing, he took a slow step towards you. You instinctively took a small step back, but he closed the distance before you could put any real space between you. His large hands reached out, and he hesitated for a brief second before finally cupping your face gently.

His calloused fingers brushed against your soft skin as he wiped the tears from your cheeks, his touch softer than his words had been moments ago.

“Look at me,” he murmured, his voice now quieter and gentler.

You hesitated but slowly lifted your gaze to meet his. His dark eyes, though still clouded with fatigue, now held regret. “I’m sorry, baby,” he whispered, his thumbs brushing against your damp skin.

“I didn’t mean to say any of that. You know how busy and stressed I am. It’s not that I don’t want to make time for you…” his voice trailed off for a moment before he sighed again.

“I just…don’t know how to balance everything right now.”

Jungkook let out another deep sigh as his hands moved to hold you by the waist, leaning in to rest his forehead against yours. “I know it’s not a good reason to lash out at you like that. I’m really sorry for that baby. You know I love you” his dark eyes searched yours, like he silently pleaded for your forgiveness.

“I know how much you miss me and need me,” he continued, his voice barely above a whisper. “Trust me, I do too. But once everything is settled down, you can have me all you want. I swear baby” his thumb gently brushed over your cheek, wiping away the remnants of your tears.

“But for now…I have to fix things first. You just have to wait a little longer for me.” Jungkook was beyond exhausted. It was obvious he was drowning under the pressure of his responsibilities.

“You know I want to keep you safe from all these bad people,” he mumbled, his voice breaking slightly at the end. “Because I don’t want anything to happen to you.”

Before you could respond, he leaned down and closed the distance between you as his lips captured yours in a soft, lingering kiss.

It was slow and desperate, like a silent plea for you to understand his world and his burdens. The warmth of his lips, despite the cold winter outside, against yours sent shivers down your spine. But as your body melted into his embrace, you felt a tear slip down your cheek, mixing with the kiss.

A small cry escaped your mouth. You were overwhelmed with the emotions pouring out of you. Jungkook immediately pulled away, his brows furrowing as he cupped your face once more. His fingers traced over your soft skin delicately, as if you were something fragile — something he already damaged too much.

“Please don’t cry baby. I’m sorry for everything,” he pleaded with his voice strained with guilt. His hands trembled slightly as he wiped your tears away with his thumbs, and pressed gentle kisses on your damp cheeks.

“I didn’t mean to hurt your feelings. Fuck, I’m such a dick” he shook his head, angry with himself. His own emotions were raw as his walls crumbled in front of you. And you could see it — the pain, the exhaustion, the love.

He pulled you into a tight hug and wrapped his arms around you without saying another word. You laid your head on his sturdy chest and felt the heat radiating from his body, and the soft vibrations of his heartbeat against your ear. His breathing was heavy as he tried to calm you down with his hand stroking your back soothingly.

You closed your eyes and allowed yourself to sink into the comfort of his arms. It was moments like this that reminded you why you had fallen for him in the first place. Because beneath the tough exterior, beneath the leader of a dangerous mafia gang, he was still Jungkook. The same man who loved you, the same man who would do anything to protect you.

Minutes passed in silence and the tension slowly eased between you. Your body had stopped trembling and the tears had finally stopped flowing.

When you pulled away a little, your gaze softened slightly as you took in his appearance. It was only now that you truly noticed how exhausted he looked — the slight bags under his eyes, the tension in his jaw, the way his shoulders carried the weight of the world.

That was when you saw it — a small cut on his lower lip, a bruise darkening his cheekbone.

You let out a small gasp. “You’re hurt.”

Jungkook blinked, confused for a second, before realising what you were looking at. He scoffed lightly, shaking his head. “It’s nothing. Just a scratch.”

You reached up without thinking. Your fingers ghosted over the bruise, careful not to apply too much pressure. His skin was warm beneath your fingertips, and for a moment, everything else faded — the fights, the frustration, the distance.

“You got this on your mission, didn’t you?” you asked quietly. He didn’t answer immediately, but his silence was enough of an answer.

Jungkook let out another sigh as he dropped his hands from your face, running them through his hair instead. “Some of my men were shot down by a rival gang,” he finally admitted. “And because of that, the number of people I trust has gone down. I’ve been working non-stop to recruit the right men for my team. I just want to make sure this doesn’t happen again.”

He paused and glanced away for a second before looking back at you. “It’s not an easy job. I have to take care of so many things at once. The missions, the team, making sure no one else gets killed…”

He exhaled sharply. “It’s stressing me out so much.”

You could hear the exhaustion in his voice, even see it in the way his shoulders slumped slightly as if the weight of everything he carried was finally starting to crush him.

For the first time in weeks, you saw something unfiltered, something vulnerable in him. You reached for his hand and laced your fingers through his. He looked down at the small gesture as his thumb brushed absentmindedly against your skin.

“I know it’s not easy,” you murmured.

“And I know you’re under a lot of pressure. But Jungkook, I don’t want to be just another thing you have to deal with. I don’t want to feel like a burden to you. I want to be someone who you could talk to whenever you’re feeling like this.”

His eyes snapped up to yours instantly, almost in panic. “You’re not a burden baby” he said quickly. “Never.”

You swallowed hard. “Then stop treating me like one.”

For a long moment, there was silence. And then, for the first time in weeks, Jungkook let his guard down completely. He pulled you into his arms and held you tightly, as if he was afraid you would slip through away from him.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered into your hair. “I don’t mean to push you away. I just…I don’t want you to get caught up in all this. I don’t want you to get hurt.”

You closed your eyes, exhaling softly against his chest. “I just want you, Jungkook. That’s all I’ve ever wanted.”

And for now, that was enough.

Suddenly the silence was broken by a loud grumble from your stomach. Jungkook pulled back slightly with a small smirk playing on his lips. “Princess, you’re hungry.”

You frowned, “I don’t want to eat” you mumbled under your breath.

Jungkook sighed and shook his head. “You have to baby. You can’t go to bed with an empty stomach” he tried to be firm.

He glanced at his watch to check the time. He only had about ten minutes of spare time before he had to go back to work. “Come on, let’s eat,” he said and gently pulled you away from his chest. You hesitated for a moment before finally nodding.

Jungkook held your hand as he led you further into the kitchen. He reheated his food while making sure to put an extra portion on your plate. His movements were casual, yet there was something comforting about the way he cared for you. The two of you then sat down at the dining table and enjoyed the peaceful meal together, something that became rare due to his responsibilities.

Between bites, you couldn’t help but smile. “This is really good, babe,” he complimented as he looked at you with his dark brown eyes. His voice was soft. He wasn’t the ruthless gang leader everyone feared — he was just Jungkook. Your Jungkook.

You grinned as you chewed, feeling content. “I wish you were home more often to taste my great food,” you pouted, playfully nudging his arm. You knew he loved your cooking, and you took pride in the fact that, despite his dangerous life, he still found comfort in the meals you made for him.

“I know, I’m so—”

Before he could finish his sentence, the dining room door suddenly burst open. One of his men entered in a rush, panting as if he had run across the entire mansion. You were startled at the sudden entrance, and Jungkook noticed. His relaxed demeanour vanished in an instant, replaced by a cold, hard expression he was fearfully known for.

He hated being interrupted, especially when he was with you.

“Boss, everyone is ready to leave. The Ravenclaw gang should be there any moment,” the man reported urgently.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched while his grip on his fork tightened until his knuckles turned white. The entire room seemed to darken as his expression shifted. Without warning, he slammed his fork onto the table. You flinched once again at the sound, feeling your breath catching in your throat as you placed a hand over your chest.

He abruptly pushed his chair back and stood up, his movements swift and intimidating. Without hesitation, he grabbed the boy by the collar, yanking him forward and slamming him against the wall. The boy let out a startled gasp, his eyes widening in terror.

“You know I fucking hate when people burst through the door without knocking and interrupting me,” Jungkook growled, his voice low and dangerous. His grip tightened and knuckles turned even paler as he held the boy in place.

The boy gulped as his entire body trembled. He knew he had screwed up — badly. “I-I’m sorry, b-boss,” he stuttered.

Jungkook’s eyes flashed with unrelenting fury. “I made this rule very fucking clear when I recruited you, and you still can’t follow it?!” he barked.

You watched the scene unfold with a pounding heart. You knew Jungkook had a temper, but it was worse tonight. He was already on edge, and this interruption had only set him off further. While his anger was understandable, you could tell he was overreacting.

It wasn’t just about the boy barging in — it was everything. The stress, the pressure, the constant weight of leading an empire. He never got a moment to breathe, never got a second to just be himself. And now, he was taking it all out on this poor boy.

You saw Jungkook’s hand twitch and his fingers subtly moving toward his waistline. Your eyes widened in alarm as you realised what he was about to do.

He was reaching for his gun.

Panic surged through you as you shot up from your chair and rushed towards him. Without thinking, you grabbed his arm and held onto him tightly. “Koo, please calm down,” you pleaded, your voice gentle yet firm.

“He just made a mistake. Let him go. Please.”

Jungkook’s body was tense with barely restrained rage beneath your touch. You tightened your grip on his arm, your fingers pressing into his skin. “Please,” you repeated softly, looking up at him.

Silence filled the room. Jungkook’s chest rose and fell with each deep inhale he took. His grip on the boy’s collar slowly loosened, only slightly, but his jaw remained clenched. He looked at you before finally exhaling a sharp breath.

With one last glare he shoved the boy away, releasing him from his death grip. The boy stumbled back, visibly shaken, but he didn’t dare make a sound.

Jungkook slowly lowered his hand and slipped his gun back into place. His entire body was still rigid, but he had listened to you. He always did.

“Get out and wait in the car with the others. I’ll be there soon,” he snapped at the boy. His tone left no room for argument. The boy nodded frantically and bolted out of the room, the door slamming shut behind him as he did.

You let out a breath you didn’t realise you were holding as your grip on Jungkook’s arm loosened. He was still tense, his jaw tight, his hands balled into fists at his sides.

You frowned as you looked at Jungkook. “What was that there? He looked terrified,” you asked.

Jungkook barely spared you a glance. “Good. He should’ve knocked before coming in,” he replied sternly. His strict nature when it came to his rules wasn’t surprising, but sometimes, you wished he wouldn’t be so harsh on the people working for him.

Carefully, you reached up and cupped his face in your hands. His eyes softened as they met yours. “Koo,” you murmured, brushing your thumb along his cheek. “You need to breathe.”

He let out a slow breath as he closed his eyes for a moment. When he opened them again, the storm inside them calmed — just a little.

“I just hate when people don’t listen,” he muttered quietly.

“I know,” you said softly. “But you can’t let it consume you.”

His shoulders slumped slightly as he leaned into your touch. For all his strength, for all his power, you were the one thing that could ground him. “Let’s just finish the food, hmm?” you tried to coax him in hopes to bring back the peaceful moment you had before the interruption.

But Jungkook sighed, rubbing a hand over his face. “I can’t now baby. I have to go,” he said softly as he looked at you.

Your expression fell instantly. A deep disappointment settled in your chest, but also fear. No matter how many times he left for these missions, the worry never faded. The possibility of him not coming home lingered in your mind like a ghost that refused to stop haunting you.

He noticed the sudden change in your demeanour and reached out to gently cup your face in his warm hands. His thumbs brushed over your cheeks as he looked you into your eyes. “I promise I’ll be back soon, hmm?” he reassured you softly.

You swallowed hard and pressed your lips together as you tried to hold back the unease bubbling inside you. “But…what if something happens to you?” you whispered, your voice barely audible. Before you knew it, your arms wrapped around his torso as you held him tightly, like you could somehow keep him from leaving.

Jungkook chuckled, the deep sound reverberating through his chest. He stroked your hair soothingly. “Nothing will happen to me love. I’m a strong man,” he teased as he pressed a soft kiss to the top of your head. You knew he was trying to lighten the mood, but it didn’t help much. The anxiety in your heart was still there.

“You should go to sleep now. It’s getting late,” he murmured against your hair, pulling away slightly to look at you again. “I’ll get going.”

But you groaned and tightened your arms around him like a child refusing to let go of their favorite toy. “Babe, please,” you whined.

Jungkook sighed, shaking his head with amusement. “I’m getting late,” he whined back in a playful tone, mimicking you. “You’re acting like a baby now,” he chuckled, his usual serious demeanour cracking just a little as he poked fun at you.

Despite the comfort of the moment, you still didn’t want him to go. You buried your face into his chest for a few more seconds before reluctantly loosening your grip. Jungkook took the opportunity to finally pull away, though he lingered just a moment longer, his fingers brushing against your wrist before stepping back.

His playful expression faded as he turned serious again. He called for one of his men in a sharp and commanding tone. “What’s the position of the Ravenclaw gang?” he asked.

The man who was holding an iPad quickly updated him. “It looks like they’re at the Riverdale Bar. They should be at the abandoned warehouse in about five minutes,” he reported.

Jungkook gave a curt nod as he processed the information. The air around him shifted again. He was no longer your teasing, affectionate fiancé. He was the ruthless leader his men feared and respected. The moment he stepped into that mindset, there was no turning back.

The man hurried out of the room after receiving his silent dismissal. Jungkook turned back to you, and scanned your face. You were still standing there, watching him with those same worried eyes, and he sighed.

Without a word, he stepped forward and scooped you up into his arms. You let out a surprised yelp and instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck as he carried you out of the dining room and up the stairs.

“Jungkook, what are you doing?” you asked.

“If you’re not going to listen and go to bed yourself, then I’ll make you,” he said simply, a small smirk tugging at the corners of his lips. You pouted but didn’t argue. He was too strong to fight off anyway.

Reaching the bedroom, he stepped inside and gently laid you down on the bed. His hands carefully adjusted you to make sure you were comfortable before grabbing a nearby blanket and draping it over you.

Then, instead of leaving immediately, he sat beside you with his fingers brushing through your silky hair absentmindedly. His eyes softened. “You really worry about me that much?” he murmured after a moment.

You looked up at him, your throat tightening. “Of course I do,” you admitted. “You’re my everything Jungkook, and my heart never rests when you’re not here with me”

His lips pressed into a thin line as he let out a slow exhale. “I know,” he said, his voice quieter now. “I’ll be careful” was all he could promise.

Jungkook sighed softly as he continued to run his fingers through your hair, brushing a few strands away from your face along the way. He looked down at you with tenderness, but there was also worry in his dark eyes. He never liked leaving you, especially at night, but his duty called.

“Right, I’m going to go now,” he murmured. “And like I said, I promise to be back home soon, so just go to sleep, okay?”

You bit your lip as your stomach churned with unease. No matter how many times he reassured you, the fear never went away. Every time he stepped out of that door, there was a possibility he wouldn’t come back. The world he was a part of was dangerous and unpredictable.

“Please be careful,” you whispered, your voice barely above a breath. “Come home safe — and alive.”

Jungkook’s gaze softened as he cupped your face, his thumbs tracing small circles on your cheeks. “Hey, I’m going to be fine. I promise,” he said with a small reassuring smile before leaning down to capture your lips in a soft kiss.

He kissed you once, then again, and again, each peck lingering just a little longer than the last. It was as if he couldn’t bring himself to stop, as if he needed to memorise the feel of your lips before he walked away.

You clutched onto his hoodie to hold him close as you kissed him back, your heart aching at the same time. “I love you so much,” he murmured between kisses.

“I love you too,” you whispered, pressing your forehead against his. “Please be safe.”

Jungkook exhaled deeply and pressed one final kiss to your lips before pulling away. He stood up from the bed and ran a hand through his dark hair as he looked down at you. “You know what to do,” he reminded you with a serious tone. “Call me if anything happens, okay?”

You nodded weakly with your hands still gripping the blanket that covered you. Jungkook’s lips curled into a small affectionate smile. “Goodnight, princess.”

“Goodnight baby” you whispered. Jungkook turned off the light switch and quietly exited the room. You listened to the sound of his footsteps fading down the hall. Then, silence.

You sighed and curled up on your side. The bed felt emptier without him. Despite the lingering anxiety in your chest, tiredness soon took over, and you drifted off into a restless sleep.

But little did you know, you weren’t alone.

A figure stood motionless outside. His presence was barely noticeable because his breathing was slow and controlled. His lips curled into a sinister smirk as he listened to the soft sound of your breathing from inside the room.

Reaching into his pocket, he pulled out a phone and dialed a number. The call was answered almost instantly. “Hello, boss?” the man spoke in a hushed voice. “Yeah, he’s gone. And his little bitch is sleeping.”

He let out a low chuckle as his fingers tapped lightly against the wall. “I’ll distract the bodyguard guarding the back area and signal you to come in,” he continued smoothly as his eyes flickered toward the entrance of the house.

There was a pause as he listened to the voice on the other end. Then, with a satisfied smirk, he nodded. “Yeah, okay, boss. See you soon.”

He ended the call and shoved the phone back into his pocket before glancing back at your closed bedroom door. His smirk widened. “Hope you spent your last day well, Miss Kim,” he muttered under his breath before leaving.

The night was supposed to be peaceful. Everything was silent, except for the faint ticking of the clock on the wall. But then something woke you up. A sudden noise.

Living with Jungkook and around his lifestyle, your senses have sharpened throughout the years. You were up almost immediately because it wasn’t just any noise. It was the kind that didn’t belong during quiet hours in this house.

You froze, and your heart began to pound furiously in your chest. It sounded like whispering — low murmurs from downstairs. The hairs on the back of your neck stood up as a deep, unsettling feeling crept into your gut.

Carefully, you removed the blanket, ensuring that not even the softest rustle gave away your movement. You tiptoed towards the door and pressed your ear against it. Silence. For a moment, you wondered if your mind played a trick on you, but then you heard it again — soft, hushed voices just below.

Your fingers trembled slightly as you unlocked the door. You pushed it open just enough to peek into the dimly lit hallway. There was no one in sight. But the feeling of being watched made you paranoid.

Taking a deep breath, you stepped out. Each step down the stairs was slow and calculated, while your heart thudded louder with every inch you descended. You reached the ground floor, and your eyes landed on a familiar figure. You bodyguard, standing still with his back facing you.

Relief washed over you for a brief moment, but something felt…wrong.

“Hello? Is anybody down there?” you called out.

But your bodyguard didn’t respond. He stood eerily still, and that’s when you noticed it — his posture was tense. “Who was making the noise?” you asked cautiously.

And then, when he turned, your blood ran cold. It wasn’t him.

The man before you wore the same uniform, but his face was one you had never seen before. His eyes were dark, lit with a sinister amusement. Your breath hitched. You knew every single one of Jungkook’s bodyguards, and this man was not one of them. He was an imposter.

Your heart pounded as fear took hold. “W-Who are you? A-And what are y-you doing h-here?” you stammered, taking a step back.

The man smirked, his lips curling with something close to satisfaction. Slowly, he advanced toward you. You instinctively backed away, step by step, until the cold wall met your back. Your hands clenched into fists at your sides as your mind raced for an escape.

Then, a sudden rustling filled the air. From the corner of your eyes, men emerged silently, dressed in sleek grey suits. And then, you saw it — the glint of metal. Handguns. Panic overflowed through you. You spun around, but before you could run, they surrounded you, cutting off every possible escape.

One of the men stepped forward. His presence seemed like he was the leader, commanding. His eyes burned into yours with an intensity that sent shivers down your spine. You swallowed hard and tried to mask the fear threatening to consume you.

“We’re really sorry for disturbing your sleep. But don’t worry, you’ll get plenty of sleep when we’re done with you.” His voice was a whisper against your ear, yet it held the weight of a threat. A shiver ran down your spine once again as you felt his breath against your skin.

Your throat went dry. “W-Who are you, and what do you want from me?” you demanded, though your voice trembled despite your best efforts to sound strong.

The man chuckled darkly and tilted his head to study you. “Who I am is none of your business, love. But what I want…is you. You and your blood smeared on my hands. Revenge for what your little fiancé did.”

Jungkook.

Your breath hitched again. Your mind raced to try and piece together what he meant. What did Jungkook do? Who were these men?

Your pulse thundered in your ears as you took another shaky step back, but there was nowhere to go. The men were closing in, their faces cold and merciless. You had to get out. You had to call Jungkook.

But the chances of escaping this room alive? Very, very slim.

Your eyes started to pool with tears as your body shook aggressively. “But I want to have fun before I get started with the real shit” he said, trailing his fingers along your bare shoulder.

But your instincts soon took over. You smacked his hand away and, with all your strength, drove your knee into his groin. The man let out a loud grunt as he doubled over in pain. Without hesitation, you shoved him aside and bolted for the door.

But before you could even reach it, his men blocked your path like a wall of stone. Your panic peaked as you spun around, looking for another way out.

“You little—” he snarled with rage burning in his eyes as he recovered. He lunged at you and grabbed your wrist in a bruising grip. You struggled and thrashed against him, but he was stronger.

“Let go of me!” you screamed as you twisted and turned in his hold.

But he wouldn’t budge. So you did the last thing there was to do. You reached down to his wrist and sank your teeth into his flesh with a force that was enough to break his skin. The man screamed out in pain and his grip on you loosened. You took the opportunity to shove him and move as far as you could away from him and his men.

But he was quick to recover this time too. When his head snapped to your direction, clutching onto his arm, you could see the rage in his eyes tripling.

“You bitch!” he lunged at you again and grabbed you by the hair, causing you to let out a loud painful shriek. He then pulled you in and threw you over his shoulder.

“LET GO OF ME! PUT ME DOWN” you screamed, but all fell into deaf ears.

“Move out of the way boys, I’m going to teach this slut a lesson first. She messed with the wrong guy” he said.

The men stepped aside and allowed him to walk past, while you cried and pounded your fists against his back. You were kicking wildly, but he didn't budge.

Once he reached a random guest bedroom, he threw you onto the bed with such force that you bounced against the mattress. Your pulse quickened as he removed his suit jacket and tossed it aside. His monstrous eyes locked onto you with dangerous intent.

You refused to let fear paralyse you. You refused to let him take advantage of you. Crawling backward, you pressed yourself against the headboard. “D-Don't come any closer,” you warned.

He smirked. “Or what?” he challenged, jumping on the bed and pinning you down. “You can’t do shit love, so be quiet and let me do my thing” he said leaning closer to your neck.

“NO! GET AWAY FROM ME YOU BASTARD!” you screamed, trying to push him away but failing. It only earned you a hard smack in the face that caused your head to turn sideways. You glared at him with your tearful but hateful eyes.

Just before he could do anything else, you brought your knee up and kneed him in the groin once again. Taking advantage of the brief distraction, you grabbed the nearest object — a heavy lamp — and swung it across his head with everything you had.

The impact sent him staggering back, clutching his head.

Breathing heavily, you scrambled off the bed and made a break for the door. Your hands fumbled with the lock as footsteps pounded behind you. Just as he lunged, you wrenched the door open and darted down the hallway.

Shouts erupted from the men downstairs as they realised you were escaping. Your adrenaline fueled you as you ran towards your bedroom and slammed the door shut behind you. You locked it and pressed your back against the wood as you tried to catch your breath.

Heavy footsteps soon approached. They wouldn't let you get away.

With shaky hands, you snatched your phone from the nightstand and quickly dialed Jungkook’s number. Each ring felt like an eternity. Your breaths came in short gasps as you fought the panic closing in at your throat. When he finally picked up, a wave of relief washed over you.

“Hey babe, you okay?”

Jungkook sounded a little concerned, you could tell, but you couldn’t get a word out. Your breathing was ragged and uneven, and you could feel the hot sting of tears in your eyes. Your entire body was shaking uncontrollably.

Jungkook immediately stopped what he was doing. His expression hardened as he sensed something was terribly wrong.

“Y/n, are you okay? What happened? Say something.”

You let out a broken sob, the tears rolling down your cheeks as your grip on the phone tightened. “There’s someone i-in the h-house, Jungkook…a g-group of men. I-I don’t k-know w-who they are a-and—” your voice cracked, and fear rendered you almost speechless.

Jungkook’s heart plummeted. His worst nightmare was unfolding, and he wasn’t there to protect you. His knuckles turned white as he clenched his fist. His heart was hammering in his chest in fear. His men, who were waiting for orders, noticed his sudden shift in demeanour. Without hesitation, he turned to them.

“Princess, tell me exactly what happened. I’m coming, okay? Go and hide somewhere safe.”

His words were urgent, but he tried to keep his voice steady for your sake. He signalled half of his men to follow him, while the others remained behind to finish the mission. His protective instincts had fully taken over. Nothing mattered more than getting to you.

You sobbed into the phone as you hurriedly whispered everything you had seen and heard. Your voice shook and every breath you took showed how scared you were.

Meanwhile, Jungkook’s blood boiled with uncontainable rage. He gritted his teeth, with fury and fear intertwining in his chest like a storm. He always feared something like this would happen — someone coming for you when he wasn’t there.

And now, it was real.

His grip on the steering wheel tightened as he sped down the road, his heart racing faster than the car itself. “Please come h-home soon Jungkook, I’m scared. I don’t want to d-die,” you choked out.

Jungkook’s jaw clenched. “Nothing will happen to you, okay? I’m on my way. Stay hidden. Stay on the call with me, don’t hang up.”

You did as he told you and hurriedly slipped into the closet in your bedroom, curling up into a ball as you tried to keep your breathing steady. Every sound in the house made your pulse skyrocket. Your body was frozen in fear, but Jungkook’s voice in your ear kept you from breaking down completely.

“I hate this, Jungkook. I hate all the guns and the violence,” you whispered. Jungkook’s heart ached at your words. He knew. He knew you never wanted to be caught up in this world, but you had become his weakness, his greatest vulnerability. And now, you were paying the price for loving him.

“I know baby. Just hold on a little longer. I swear, I’ll be there soon.” And with that, he pressed down on the accelerator harder because he was determined to get to you before it was too late.

It was then when you heard faint creaking of the floorboards which sent a violent shiver down your spine, and you curled deeper into the corner of the closet as you tried to regulate your breathing. The room outside was silent, too eerily silent, except for the slow footsteps that were approaching you. Each of them felt like a countdown to your doom. You clutched your phone tighter, but your trembling fingers barely were able to hold on.

Was this the end?

Jungkook was still on the line, still half way there, but you feared it would be too late. “I love you, Koo.” you whispered as tears continued to roll down your cheeks. “Please come quickly...I'm scared.”

Tears stung his eyes as his breathing became uneven, “I love you too baby. Just hang in there, I’m almost home.”

And then, you heard a click. It was an unmistakable sound of a gun being loaded. Your stomach dropped.

“I love you,” you whispered like they were your final words.

The closet door was soon yanked open with brutal force, and your phone nearly slipped from your grasp as you looked up, terror finally paralysing you. “There you are, you bitch,” the man sneered as a cold smirk stretched across his face.

Jungkook's blood ran cold as he heard that familiar voice. “Y/N?!” his voice cracked in fear as he heard your muffled gasp. He was still too far away.

“Hello? Y/n? Are you there?” his voice came through the phone frantically. But before you could utter a single word, a rough hand grabbed your wrist and yanked you out of the cramped closet. The force sent you stumbling, and the phone slipped from your grasp, clattering onto the cold, hard floor.

A scream tore from your throat as the man's grip tightened, his fingers tangling in your hair and yanking your head back. Pain shot through your scalp, but the terror in your chest overshadowed it. “Y/N!” your fiancé yelled.

“YOU BASTARD, LET HER GO NOW!” Jungkook desperately screamed, but there was no one to answer him — only your frantic cries and the scuffle of shoes against the ground.

Then, he heard an ear piercing scream, followed by a deafening gunshot.

The line went dead, and Jungkook's heart stopped.

“No. No, no, no. This can't be happening” his breathing grew ragged, his fingers gripping the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles turned whiter than they were before. He slammed his foot on the accelerator and weaved recklessly through traffic, his mind spiraling with fear. Was that gunshot meant for you? Were you hurt?

Or worse.

The thought made him sick and his blood boiled with rage. He prayed and he begged that you were still alive, that he wasn't too late. If he found even a single scratch on you, he wouldn't rest until he made the man who took you suffer.

He was coming for you.

Reaching the mansion, Jungkook slammed the brakes and jumped out of the car before it had even come to a complete stop. His heart was pounding violently, breath ragged and vision blurred by tears streaming down his cheeks as he sprinted towards the grand entrance. The moment he stepped inside, his stomach twisted in horror.

Bodies of his men and his loyal guards lay motionless scattered across the floor in pools of red. The scent of gunpowder and death lingering in the air was compelling, and it was suffocating him.

The mansion was eerily silent. No gunfire, no voices. Just an overwhelming, deafening silence. But his mind focused on one thing only — you.

“Y/N?! BABY, WHERE ARE YOU?!” he shouted desperately, his voice cracking. He ran through the halls, kicking open each door as he searched for you frantically. But there was no answer. His hands shook as he gripped the staircase railing. His legs were moving on their own and carried him upstairs.

“Y/n, please. Where are you, honey?” his voice came out weaker this time. It was a desperate plea rather than a demand.

Then, a small, delicate voice reached his ears.

“Jungkook?”

His breath hitched, and he spun around so fast he almost lost his balance. Then, he saw you. Standing in the doorway of the guest room. Relief washed over him like a crashing wave, and for a brief moment, the chaos around him ceased to exist.

“Oh my god, there you are!” he exhaled as he closed the distance between you in a few quick strides. His hands ached to touch you, to hold you, to make sure you were real.

You took a step forward, but something about the way you moved made him a little puzzled. Your steps were slow and irregular. Your lips were quivering while tears streamed down your face.

But still, you smiled at him — a soft, tired smile, like a person who had fought too hard and was finally surrendering.

Jungkook ignored the unease curling in his stomach and pulled you into his arms, holding you so tightly. He pressed his lips against your forehead, “I was so scared, I thought they hurt you” he whispered.

You didn’t respond, only melting into his embrace with your head resting against his firm chest as if you belonged there.

For a moment, everything seemed okay.

Until it wasn’t. Because it was then when Jungkook felt it.

A wet sensation against his palm.

At first, he thought it was just sweat, maybe even tears. But when he lifted his hand, his confusion turned into gut-wrenching terror. His fingers were stained red.

His blood ran cold.

Slowly, he pulled away. His breathing became shallow as his eyes locked onto the dark patch spreading across your dark blue pyjama top. His stomach reeled.

“No…no, no, no.”

His voice was barely above a whisper, but his body screamed. His fingers trembled violently as they reached for the fabric, peeling it away just enough to reveal the truth that shattered his entire world.

Three bullet holes.

Right in your abdomen.

Jungkook’s mind blanked. His heart thumped so loudly he could barely hear anything else. His chest clenched as panic gripped at his throat.

“No, baby, stay with me, okay? Just stay with me!” he was frantic. His hands pressed against your wounds to try and stop the bleeding, but the crimson liquid seeped through his fingers too fast.

You wobbled slightly, and your body leaned against him for support. Your eyes were fluttering as you struggled to keep them open.

“Jungkook…” you murmured weakly.

“No, don’t talk like that! You’re going to be fine. I’ll get you help, I promise” his voice broke as he cradled you in his arms. He held you tight as if holding you close would somehow keep you from slipping away.

But your body was growing weaker.

Jungkook’s world was falling apart, and he was powerless to stop it.

The pain continued to spread like wildfire through your body, triggering your legs to shake uncontrollably beneath you and shredding any remaining strength. The world around you was hazy, darkness was beginning to invade the periphery of your vision, and your thoughts struggled to remain alert. But the pain was unbearable and your body could no longer bear the weight of it.

A sharp gasp escaped your lips as your legs finally gave out, and you collapsed. Jungkook moved faster than he ever had in his life. His arms shot forward and caught you just before you hit the floor. His heart pounded so hard it felt like it would burst.

“No…no, no, no!” he mumbled desperately as he pulled you into his lap. His hands pressed against your wounds while his entire body was shaking. The warmth of your blood oozed through his fingers, and a horrifying contrast to the coldness began to creep into your skin.

A raw, desperate cry ripped from his throat. “SOMEONE CALL THE AMBULANCE!” he screamed in panic that echoed through the empty halls.

But you shook your head weakly. Your breathing laboured, and every word was a struggle now, every syllable dripping with pain.

“N-No, it’s o-okay. T-There’s n-n-no need t-to. I-It’s g-going to be t-too l-late…”

Jungkook’s heart shattered at your words. His hold on you tightened more as if he could physically hold onto your life and keep it from slipping away.

“N-No! Don’t say that! You’re going to be o-okay. I won’t let anything happen to you!” he choked out as his tears dripped onto your skin.

You tried to smile, but it came out weak and broken. “K-Koo…y-you know I-I’m n-not going to make it. L-Look at me…”

He couldn’t. He didn’t want to. Because looking at you meant accepting the truth. Looking at you meant accepting that this was happening, that he was losing you, that no matter how much he wished, begged, or prayed, he couldn’t save you.

Jungkook shook his head furiously. “No! No, don’t talk like that! You have to fight, please! Stay with me, baby, please!”

He had imagined a future with you — a lifetime together, a wedding, a home filled with joy, and your children. He promised himself that he would always protect you, that no harm would ever come to you.

And yet, here you were, bleeding out to death in his arms.

He was too late.

A sob racked his chest as his fingers traced your paling cheek. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry…” he whimpered, pressing his forehead against yours, his breath shaky. “This is all my fault…”

You looked up at him through hooded eyes. Eyes that were still filled with love despite the agonising pain you were in. With great effort, you lifted your hand and cupped his cheek. Your thumb grazed over his skin in an attempt to comfort him.

“I-It’s not y-your f-fault. It’s no one’s fault…” you whispered, though even as you spoke, your voice was fading, your breaths becoming shallower.

Jungkook felt his entire being fracture. His hand cradled your face while his tears mixed with the blood staining his skin. “No, no, no…baby, please…” his voice cracked as he shook his head.

The only sound between you was his broken cries and your ragged, weakening breathing.

His grief turned to fury. His hands clenched into fists, his jaw tightening. He knew who did this to you, and he swore they would pay.

“I promise you, I will hunt down the bastard who did this. I swear, I will rip his head off” his voice was low with murderous intent. He spoke as if making that promise alone could keep you alive.

But deep down, he knew.

You were slipping away. And that there was little he could do to stop it.

Your fingers clutched weakly at the fabric of Jungkook’s shirt. Your grip was faltering as every ounce of strength drained from your body. The pain was unbearable now, like a fire consuming you from the inside out, but even worse than the agony was the sight of him — his face twisted with devastation, tears endlessly streaming down his bruised cheeks, his hands shaking as they cradled your dying form.

You could barely keep your eyes open, but you had to tell him. You had to make him promise.

“P-Promise me…you’ll m-move o-on and f-find someone e-else…” your voice cracked with pain, your breathing growing more ragged. “I d-don’t want y-you to be s-sad forever when I’m g-gone.”

Jungkook’s entire body stiffened. His heart clenched as if someone had reached into his chest and crushed it in their grip.

“No. No, never” his voice was firm but choked with tears. “I love you, only you. There will never be another woman I want to love. I don’t see my future with anyone else but you.”

His words made your already weak heart ache. You wanted to stay. You wanted a lifetime with him. You imagined growing old together, waking up in his arms every morning, sharing laughter, love, and the simple joys of life. But fate had different plans.

You let out a soft, broken sigh. “I-I’m tired…”

Jungkook shook his head frantically. “No! No, you’ll be fine. The ambulance is on the way, baby. Stay awake, you’re going to be okay!” he rocked you slightly, as if the motion would keep you conscious, keep you grounded to this world.

But you gave him a small, sad smile. “J-Jungkook…h-honey, you know t-that’s not true…”

He wanted to argue. He wanted to scream at the universe for being so cruel, but your voice was growing fainter, and your eyes were fluttering as if you were already halfway between this world and the next.

“You r-really were the b-best t-thing that h-has ever h-happened to m-me…” you whispered. The weight of those words was breaking him more and more. He let out a heart-wrenching sob. He had never felt so helpless in his life.

“I w-wish I was able to s-stay with you f-forever…”

Jungkook’s cries grew louder, echoing through the empty hallways, and his entire body shuddered as he held you. “No, no, please don’t do this to me. Stay with me. Just a little longer, baby. Please!”

You forced yourself to gather the last of your strength to use your fingers and brush them against his cheek. You wanted to memorise him one last time — the warmth of his skin, the love in his eyes, even the pain he carried for you.

“I-I l-love y-you…” you gasped out.

Jungkook’s entire world came crashing down. His body shook as he let out a broken wail, pressing his forehead against yours.

At that moment, he knew. He had to let you go.

He had to watch the love of his life slip away, leaving him in a world that suddenly felt far too empty, far too cold. No matter how badly he wanted to fight for you, to keep you by his side, it was too late.

The least he could do was let you go and allow you to rest forever in peace. His hands continued to tremble as he held you close. His vision was blurred by the endless stream of tears that refused to stop falling. He knew this was inevitable. He knew there was nothing more he could do to save you. And yet, the weight of reality crushed him.

“I love you too princess,” he sobbed. His fingers gently traced your pale face.

“I’m sorry,” you mumbled weakly. Every word you spoke felt like a dagger to his chest, twisting deeper and bluntly, leaving wounds that would never heal.

“Shh, there’s no reason for you to be sorry my love,” he whispered, his voice breaking as he pulled you closer, desperate to feel the warmth that was already fading from your body.

He leaned down and pressed one final, lingering kiss to your lips. It was soft, tender, and filled with all the love he could no longer express with words. You managed a small smile, tasting him one last time before your eyes fluttered shut, and the darkness swallowed you whole forever.

For a moment, there was silence. An eerie hush that made everything feel unreal. But when Jungkook felt your body go limp in his arms, when your hand slipped from his grip and fell lifelessly to the side, the world collapsed.

“No,” he gasped, his eyes wide with horror. “No, no, no — please!”

A heart-wrenching scream tore from his throat that resonated throughout the house like a ghostly wail of pain. The sound was raw and unfiltered, a cry so broken that it sent chills down the spines of those who heard it. With their leader's agony echoing louder than any gunshot they had ever heard, his men, who were positioned throughout the house, recoiled at the sound.

As though cradling you closer would somehow make you come back to life, Jungkook held on to your lifeless body, his fingers pressing into your flesh. His whole body rattled as he sobbed hysterically while burying his face in the crook of your neck. His lungs burned, his chest hurt, and he felt as though his sorrow was drowning him.

How was he supposed to live without you? How was he supposed to go on knowing that the only thing that made life worth living had been ripped away from him? You were his light in his dark life, his happiness, the only thing that kept him sane in this merciless world. And now, you were gone.

And someone was going to pay for it.

His hands trembled as he reached his hand to lightly, almost reverently, caress your cold cheek. His anguish turned into something more sinister, something lethal, and his jaw tightened.

“I will make them pay baby, I swear” he murmured, his voice hoarse, filled with quiet fury. “I will not spare them.”

He heard a rustling sound from behind that made his body stiffen. They were light footsteps. A presence. And he recognised it before he even turned around.

“Jungkook.” It was gentle, but hesitant.

Jungkook turned his head slowly, his tear-streaked face contorted in anguish once again. Mingyu stood a short distance away with his eyes reflecting their sorrow of watching his friend's broken state and his face brimming with grief.

“H-Hyung,” Jungkook stammered, his lips quivering, his entire body shaking. His throat was tight, as if words would never come out properly again.

Mingyu approached him cautiously, moving slowly and mindfully so as not to disturb him in his vulnerable position. With a mournful heart from the unimaginable scene in front of him, he knelt next to Jungkook and lowered himself to his level.

With his body jerking with sobs, Jungkook held onto Mingyu like an aid and leaned against his chest. He was shaking, his pain so overwhelming that it consumed him entirely.

“S-She’s g-gone Mingyu,” Jungkook choked out. “They killed her.”

Mingyu shut his eyes for a moment, letting the weight of Jungkook’s grief settle in his chest. He saw Jungkook in many states before — angry, ruthless, untouchable — but never like this. Never so utterly shattered.

“I’m sorry, Jungkook,” he whispered, his voice barely audible. It was all he could say, all he could offer, knowing that no words would ever be enough.

Jungkook’s cries filled the large empty space, his body curling into itself as he mourned the love of his life. And amidst his heartbreak, amidst the unbearable grief that threatened to consume him, there was one thing he knew for certain.

He would not rest until the people responsible for this paid the price in blood.

“S-She was crying…she was so s-scared…but I was too l-late,” he choked out, his breath hitching with every word. “I f-failed. I failed to keep the p-promise I made to her, I f-failed to protect her.”

His hands clenched into fists, his nails digging into his palms as if the pain would wake him from this nightmare. But this was real. Too real.

“She h-hated all this… she h-hated guns and v-violence because it s-scared her.” His body convulsed with another sob, his shoulders shaking as he struggled to continue. “S-She was s-scared to die.”

Mingyu watched helplessly as Jungkook completely broke before him. He never saw him like this — not even in their darkest moments, not even in the bloodiest wars they fought together. Jungkook had always been the strongest among them, the one who never let his emotions show, the one who kept his heart guarded behind walls of steel.

But now, those walls crumbled. He was no longer the ruthless, fearless leader Mingyu knew. He was just a broken man, holding onto the only person who had ever made him feel whole.

“B-But she still chose to s-stay with me,” Jungkook continued. “And I p-promised to protect her.” His grip on your lifeless body tightened.

“But I f-failed her…I was too l-late.” His words ended in a heartbreaking wail as he buried his face into your shoulder.

Mingyu felt his own heart break at the sight. The room was filled with Jungkook’s agonising cries that echoed off the walls. No one, not even Mingyu himself, had ever seen him cry like this before. The man who was feared by so many, the one who stood unshaken in the face of death, was now completely undone.

When his eyes traveled to your body, his breath hitched. The sight of the bullet wounds on your abdomen made his stomach churn. The blood that had soaked through your clothes, staining Jungkook’s hands as he held you, was a reminder of the brutality of it all.

Mingyu swallowed hard, knowing that once Jungkook moved past his grief, all that would remain was rage. And that was what terrified him. The moment Jungkook decided to go rogue, there would be no stopping him.

He stayed with him for what felt like an eternity, allowing Jungkook to cry until his sobs dulled into quiet whimpers, his tears still flowing freely. Even as the silence grew heavier between them, Jungkook refused to let go of you. His arms remained wrapped around you, his face still pressed against your cold skin, unwilling to accept that you were no longer breathing.

Then, finally, his voice returned — hoarse and cold.

“Call Namjoon,” he ordered, his voice still as a whisper but there was authority. “And get—” his throat constricted as he forced himself to swallow the lump forming there. His eyes that were swollen and bloodshot, flickered back to your body as his fingers brushed over your face gently.

“Get her body to the hospital” his voice cracked on the last word, clenching his jaw to try to hold himself together. But Mingyu could see it — the war waging inside him, the battle between grief and fury, between the part of him that wanted to fall apart and the part that demanded vengeance.

Mingyu hesitated for a moment. But then he nodded, knowing there was nothing he could say to ease Jungkook’s pain. He pulled out his phone and dialled Namjoon.

As he spoke, he glanced back at Jungkook, who still didn’t move. He remained frozen, clutching you tightly, as if he could somehow bring you back to life if he just held you close enough. His lips were trembling still, while his breathing remained uneven, but there was something else in his expression now.

A destructive storm was brewing inside him.

Mingyu had seen Jungkook angry before. He had seen him furious, livid, merciless. But this? This was different. This was something deeper, darker. This wasn’t just anger.

This was war. On everything and anything that came his way.

Each time Jungkook looked at the bullet holes in your abdomen, his fury only grew hotter. His breathing turned heavier, his fists clenched tighter, his entire body coiled like a predator ready to strike. Things were going to be a bloody mess after this. And Jungkook would make sure of it.

When Namjoon and the others eventually showed up, the air was heavy with melancholy and tension.

Their footsteps grew heavy as they took in the tragic sight in front of them, and their faces turned grim. As if he couldn't let go, Jungkook remained kneeling on the ground with his arms encircling your limp body and his face pressed against your cold skin. In an instant, his entire world had fallen apart, and he was unsure of how to put himself back together.

Namjoon approached the man carefully, and his usual composed demeanor faltered as he watched the agony in Jungkook’s bloodshot eyes. He placed a gentle hand on his shoulder and squeezed lightly. “Jungkook,” he murmured.

Jungkook inhaled shakily, his chest rising and falling unevenly. He didn’t look up, didn’t acknowledge the others standing around him. Instead, he leaned down, pressing one last, lingering kiss on your forehead, and then your pale chapped lips.

“I love you,” he whispered. “Things won’t be the same without you…but I promise I will learn to live. For you.” A tear slipped down his cheek, landing on yours.

Then, as if something inside him had snapped, he finally released you. His body felt heavier than ever as he let Namjoon and the others take you from his arms. The absence of your warmth sent a sharp pain through his chest, but he forced himself to sit still as his eyes fixated on the blood staining his hands. Your blood.

His fingers twitched before slowly curling into a tight fist. His breathing grew steadier, but the warmth that once filled his eyes was gone, replaced by something darker. When he finally rose to his feet, there was no trace of the broken man who had been sobbing moments ago.

Instead, there stood a man prepared for a blood smearing war.

His voice was low and cold, void of all the emotions that had consumed him before. “Call up everyone. Everyone with their weapons. Meet me at the main base,” he commanded, his tone sharp as a blade.

His gaze shifted towards Mingyu, who flinched slightly at the newfound steel in his voice. “Tell the boys at the abandoned warehouse to finish off those bastards and get to the base immediately” there was no hesitation, no room for argument. This was an order.

“We’re gonna end this bastard and his gang once and for all” his words dripped with venom, his jaw clenched so tightly that the veins in his neck were visible. The pure hatred radiating off him sent chills down Mingyu’s spine.

Jungkook bent down and picked up his gun, his fingers gripping the cold metal as if it was the only thing anchoring him. Without another word, he turned on his heel and stormed out of the house, his movements fueled by vengeance.

Mingyu remained frozen in place, his throat dry as he swallowed hard. He knew things were about to get very, very ugly. Jungkook wasn’t just seeking revenge — he was out for blood, and nothing was going to stop him.

Your death had left a scar so deep that even wiping out an entire gang wouldn’t be enough to heal it. No amount of bloodshed would bring you back. But even knowing that, Jungkook was willing to burn everything down to make them pay.

And Mingyu knew that once the battle started, there would be no stopping him.

[rainydayathogwarts]

Ground rules - Remus Lupin

summary: Remus isn't used to having his dominance challenged, so he decides to dabble a bit with brat taming using the sassy slytherin. wc: 1.6k+

Remus was used to being the intimidating one. An irritated look on his face and the other marauders would be apologising profusely for something they didn't even do. But he wasn't used to this. Someone standing tall with their shoulders rolled back and a smug smile, staring straight back into Remus's unforgiving glare. Someone who challenged him. He guessed it was because you were a Slytherin: less easily frightened and more menacing, surrounded by friends who always questioned each other, never backing down from a good confrontation.

Remus felt threatened. Defied. He simply couldn't ruin his reputation of being Gryffindor's scariest student because of one conversation with you. A troublemaker with a charming smile, always waiting for the right moment to pounce. "I suggest you choose another day Lupin, otherwise you'll be doing this project alone." Stupid group projects and stupid Professor Slughorn who just had to randomly allocate partners. His jaw clenched, eyebrow raising curiously "Remind me of the reason you can't do Thursday?" Crossing your arms over your chest, you coolly announced "I have a date." Remus rolled his eyes, stepping closer to you and lowering his voice to condescendingly say "Now here's what you're gonna do sweetheart." He pointed a finger at you, poking you twice in the shoulder as he slowed the pace of his words.

"You're gonna cancel that date and we're gonna meet up in the library, because Thursday is the only day our academic schedules don't clash. Loverboy is gonna have to wait another day." You grinned at him, not bothering to give him a response before spinning on the balls of your feet and walking away.

Of course, you didn't listen to the taller boy's cute threat, strolling along to your date. You didn’t think he was anything special, but you were bored, and it would be way more fun than doing a silly project with Lupin. Besides, you liked seeing Lupin all riled up. You gasped as a hand curled around your bicep, harshly tugging you backwards. You tripped over your feet, only to be caught by arms snaking around your waist. Looking back to see who the culprit was, you rolled your eyes. “Library’s that way.” Remus said matter-of-factly, separating from you completely when you regained your footing. “Who said I was going to the library?” You challenged, watching as his hand travelled around your body to rest on the small of your back, and lead you in the other direction. “I did.” He whispered, hit warm breath hitting your ear.

Shivers ran down your spine at his words, and you were at a loss for words, letting the taller boy lead you towards the library. “Nothing to bite back with?” He asked with a cocky tone, and you quickly turned your gaze to meet his eyes, an unsatisfied gleam in them. You were not done yet, but no, you didn’t have anything to bite back with.

You huffed unhappily, letting Remus lead you all the way to the entrance of the library - willingly of course. If you didn’t want his hand on your back, fingertips tickling your skin, you’d have pushed him away. You tried walking through the library’s big double doors, chin turned upwards, but a hand around your wrist had you stopping in your tracks. “What is your problem?” You asked, spinning on your heels and taking a threatening step towards Remus. “Are you going to give me this attitude all day?” Remus snapped, leaning his head down to close some distance between you. You felt your heart pounding roughly against your ribcage, and you barely heard your next words slip out of your mouth.

“Are you going to give me a reason to?”

Remus’s hand moved from around your wrist to grip your bicep, tugging you in a completely new direction. You gasped, a question laying on the tip of your tongue, but you were too intimidated to ask him. As you travelled down the hallway, Remus slammed a door open, using his grip on you to push you into the abandoned classroom. A breath got caught in your throat as you inhaled sharply, taking a couple of steps away from the boy. You heard him mutter a locking charm, and your eyes widened, watching as he trudged over to you in two long strides. “Rem-” Your call of his name was interrupted by him slamming his lips against yours, causing a surprised mix between a gasp and a moan to rip out of your chest.

Your hands came up to rest on Remus’s chest, but his hands were quickly on top of yours, ripping them off his body. “Oh, you don’t get to touch.” He explained, breaking away from the kiss shortly. You whined, gasping when Remus gripped your hips to spin you around and push you against a table. Your hands slammed onto the flat surface of the desk, and a cool breeze flew past your ass when Remus flipped your skirt up.

You didn’t have time to react before a sharp slap was delivered to your ass, causing you to cry out “Fuck!” You heard Remus tut in disappointment, and he cupped your face in his hand from behind, squeezing your cheeks together so you couldn’t speak. “Oh no, none of this. I don’t want any words from you apart from a yes or no. Understood?” Remus let go of your cheeks, and for a moment the only thing heard in the room was your heavy breathing. “Yes.”

“Good girl.” Remus muttered, hooking his index fingers into the fabric of your panties. He pulled them down your legs in one fell swoop, letting them rest by your feet. Remus nosed at your neck, shutting his eyes as he let his hands wander over your body. “Is this okay?” He asked ever so politely, and you replied with a simple “Yes” as per his rules, attempting not to let your desperation shine through your words.

Remus cursed, and you heard a clutter behind you — a metal jingle from his belt, scratchy unzipping from his trousers, the shuffle of his trousers falling down his legs. You gasped at the feeling of Remus running his cock down your slit, catching the tip on your clit before running it back up to your entrance. One of Remus’s hands landed next to yours on the table, his second guiding his cock into you. You shuffled slightly, spreading your legs wider and pushing your hips back to meet Remus’s. Remus heard your initial whimper when he began pushing in, so he rocked back and forth without going any deeper, listening closely for your breathing to stabilise.

Remus repeated the process, going deeper and deeper until he was fully sheathed inside you. You bit your bottom lip, trying to hold back any comments you had to make. Unfortunately for you, when Remus snapped his hips into your experimentally, you couldn’t hold back the “Oh my God!” you let out, pushing your ass back to meet his pelvis. Your punishment came quick: another slap to the ass which you were sure would leave a painful and lasting hand mark on your skin. Both of Remus’s hands moved: the one on the table clutched your hip, pushing you closer to the table whilst the other travelled to your back, pushing your torso flat against the cold desk. You keened loudly, hands closing into fists whilst your eyes shut, hearing Remus’s gruff voice scold you. “Can’t agree to the ground rules?” “I’m sorry.” You apologised, feeling the tears build up in your eyes. You yelped when another spank was delivered to your backside, the stinging pain causing a tear to roll down your cheek. “We agreed on yes and no, didn’t we?”

“Yes.” You replied, inhaling sharply to swallow the pain. “Jesus, you’re such a fucking brat.” He growled again, making your jaw drop, a high-pitched moan escaping your parted lips. Remus bent down, snaking an arm in front of your shoulders to help pull you up so you stood with your back to his chest. He let go of your shoulders, using that same hand to tug your thigh up so your leg rested up on the table. The new angle was jaw dropping, making your back arch against Remus’s chest, letting your head drop back onto one of his shoulders. Remus dug his face in the crook of your neck, latching onto your soft skin to suck hickeys onto it. He groaned against your skin, trying his best not to cum from the way your pussy sucked his cock in.

“Please, please.” You begged, internally praying that Remus wouldn’t punish you for your pleas. He separated from your neck, a smirk forming on his face as he mumbled “Look who learned some manners.” But you couldn’t bask in his condescending praise, instead adding “Please, I’m so close.” Remus cursed, one hand blindly searching for your clit. Frustratedly, he huffed, listening closely to your breathing pattern until he heard your breath hitch, finally feeling your sensitive nub underneath his fingers. Alongside his hips, his fingers increased their pace on your clit, causing your hips to painfully buck against the edge of the desk. “Please? Can I please cum?” You asked, with a tone so sweet that Remus just couldn’t say no. It definitely had nothing to do with the way his balls were about to explode, emptying every last bit of cum into your pussy. The second Remus muttered a “Yes.” you were immediately coming with him, going dizzy and slumping against Remus, who protectively wrapped his arm around your torso so that you didn’t fall.

You panted deeply, letting Remus press final kisses to your neck before finally whispering in your ear. “Feeling modest enough to get some work done now?”

“Yes, sir.”

taglist:

@ravisinghs-wife, @amatoanima, @starry-remus, @pain-in-the-ashe

[adverbally]

More Than Words

Written for the @stmarchmm prompt “love confession” | wc: 660 | rated: T | cw: none | tags: Steddie, Steve POV character study, omega Steve, alpha Eddie, early relationship, falling in love, domesticity

———

Steve falls fast, as he always has. It’s different with Eddie, though– less like plunging off a cliff and more like sinking into a warm bath that he never wants to leave. More importantly, he thinks Eddie is right there with him.

There have been signs, subtle but there. Eddie can’t seem to keep his eyes off Steve, whether they’re driving home from the movies or wrangling the Party on D&D nights or making out on Steve’s couch. Then there are the constant touches– Eddie’s hand at the small of his back, linking their fingers, playing with Steve’s hair, tipping his chin up for a kiss.

Eddie listens, opens doors for him, calls him on the days they don’t see each other, gets him a fresh scent token for his nest every few days, tells the kids to knock it off when their teasing gets a little too harsh. He doesn’t complain when Steve has to cancel plans, whether it’s for a migraine or an unexpected double shift. He surprises Steve with flowers when he’s having a rough week. Eddie doesn’t expect more from him or say he’s too much. He seems to like Steve just as he is.

Which is great. Really. For most people, it would be a total non-problem. But Steve…

It’s never been like this before, is the thing. Dating has always been a performance for him, a way to show what a good Omega he could be. He could be pretty and sweet, and he could laugh at an Alpha’s jokes and compliment them and let them buy his dinner in exchange for a kiss goodnight. With Eddie, though, it doesn’t feel like a mask or a role to play; it’s real and vulnerable, it’s walking a tightrope without a safety net, and the scariest thing about it is that it doesn’t scare Steve at all. Not if Eddie’s there.

Steve doesn’t tell anyone, especially not Eddie, but he thinks about it for weeks. The words linger on the tip of his tongue any time he does anything with Eddie– wrestling for the bowl of popcorn on movie night or picking up the kids from their latest campaign session or saying goodnight at the end of their phone calls. A few times, Steve musters up the courage to test it out after he hangs the receiver back on the wall, whispering I love you into the silence of his empty house. It comes naturally, easily, and that’s how Steve knows it’s time to say it for real.

He had toyed with the idea of making some grand romantic gesture but in the end, it’s just the two of them, snuggled together under three layers of blankets in Eddie’s bed, laughing about something Dustin said earlier that day. The sheets and Steve’s borrowed pajamas smell like Eddie, sweet herbs and sharp citrus, and Eddie’s arms are secure around his waist as he curls around Steve from behind. Steve can’t stifle the purr of contentment that rumbles through him but he wouldn’t want to, not when he can let Eddie know just how happy he makes him.

“Comfy?” Eddie asks before stifling a yawn in the warm skin at the nape of Steve’s neck.

Steve hums in reply and nuzzles his cheek into Eddie’s pillow. He’s half-asleep already, his blinks growing longer and longer as he fights to keep his eyes open.

When Eddie snorts in amusement, Steve feels it more than hears it. “Okay, sleepyhead. Goodnight.”

The words stick in Steve’s throat for just a second before he sighs, “I love you.”

Eddie tucks his chin over Steve's shoulder and noses at his scent gland, inhaling deeply. “I love you, too, Stevie. But we can talk about it tomorrow.” He kisses the spot once, twice, three times, like he’s already thinking about how his bite would look there among Steve’s freckles. “Sweet dreams, baby.”

Steve falls asleep with the ghost of a smile still on his lips.

[docdudo]

Familiar 141 - Young Witch!Reader (Part 3)

You looked up at the cabin looming before you, its structure crafted from beautiful dark pine wood. The windows were adorned with extravagant details, and the doors, oversized and imposing, seemed designed for beings much larger than ordinary humans.

Well, maybe because, yeah, they weren't humans. Familiars would be offended if you ever compared them to humans.

Then again, so would witches.

You think.

Who would have guessed that such a grand and beautiful construction was hidden in the forest you’ve been exploring since you were old enough to walk?

It was clearly made with love and dedication too...

"Beautiful, isn't it?" Gaz smiled smugly, crossing his arms as he looked up at the place with you. "It’s been here since the 1800s. Of course, we’ve been updating and remodeling it for quite some time now."

You prefered not to think too hard about that date.

"Right..." You mumble, a little unsure what else to say, trying to avoid looking at his face for too long. His yellow, shining eyes made you a bit nervous.

You didn't even notice that your hand automatically went to stratch at the gold bands around your wrist, only jumping a bit in alarm as your small hand was grabbed by a much bigger one.

"Ey, wee lassie! No scratching, don't wanna ye hurting!" Soap smiled big even as he scolded you, making you frown a little at him.

"Right..." You grunted a bit more annoyed now, pulling your hand away from his quickly.

Soap barely reacted when you yanked your hand away from his, still smiling like an eager pup. He was leaning close, his wide stance unwavering, as if the thought of being even a moment away from you was unbearable.

Clingy...

Then again, weren’t Familiars usually like this? God, you wished you’d been born into a proper Coven, with real teachings about being a witch.

But nooooooo...

Instead, all you had were the itty bitty pieces of information your grandfather had about them and their life style. Sure, it was a lot of knowledge about witches for a human to have, but it wasn't enough.

You didn't know how they did it, really. Were your grandfather right about young witches never going outside the Coven? Like, never?

You doubt it that they were just being kidnapped left and right by solitary Familiars, so it had to be true, right...?

"What'cha ye thinking so hard about it, lass?" Soap questioned, inspecting your face closely, smile still present on his face.

"How to get away from you." You snarked quietly, a small frown tugging at your lips—though it looked suspiciously close to a pout. Not that it was intentional; your face just did that when you glared at someone.

"Aawww, lassie…" He crooned, a satisfied grin spreading across his face, his sharp smile making his eyes squint dangerously.

You trembled, instinctively stepping back at his reaction, your mind screaming 'danger' for a few panicked seconds. You’d grown bolder without the two scariest-looking Familiars around, momentarily forgetting the truth: no matter how they appeared, they were still ancient and dangerous. And goddamn, was his reaction terrifying…

"Tav." Gaz hissed, approaching you two with an annoyed look, immediatly slapping the back of Soap's head. "Baby witch, remember?"

"Tsc..." He grumbled at the hit, but immediatly softened as his eyes went back to you. "Sorry, mo leanbh... 'm not dangerous, not for you, never for you..." He crooned slightly, kneeling in front of you easily. "Would never hurt ma witch..."

You could only nod stiffly, still on edge about his behavior. Their behavior. Ever since you woke up a few hours ago, your emotions had been swinging wildly—mad, angry, annoyed… then terrified, scared, hesitant…

You wanted to go home.

Oh, God, please, don't cry again... you don't want to cry again, you're better than that....

Gaz and Soap watched your face for a few moments, quickly noticing your bubbling emotions once again. The cat Familiar immediately dropped to his knees beside Soap, intent on calming you down before you could get worked up again.

"It's okay, kid... you're okay, we would never hurt you, Soap was right..." Gaz soothes, voice quiet and gentle, big hands hovering above your arms, unsure if he should touch you or not.

"I know..." You raspy, a weird mix between emotional and annoyed. "Wanna... wanna go home...."

"Aw, lassie..." Soap murmurs, much more tamed now, one hand carefully touching your limp arm, trying to comfort you.

"......where did you even lived, hon'?" Gaz frowns a little as he asks, like he was thinking this over for the first time now. "You are not part of a Coven, right?"

"I..." That makes you hesitate a little, also frowning as you try to explain your situation. "I'm not... part of a Coven.... I... I, like, lived with my... grandfather close to the forest entrance... near the south part..."

"Gran'father?" Soap repeats, face immediatly scrunching in strong distaste.

"W-Wha-, what's with your reaction??" You question, eyes going a little wide as you take a step back, now frowning more than ever, almost glaring even. "It's my grandfather...!"

"Witches don't have gran'fathers." Soap grunts back, clearly annoyed but holding back so he wouldn't scare you again.

"Well—!" You caught yourself, suddenly remembering the dangerous creatures you were speaking to, taking a small breath to try and calm down a little. "W-Well, I do..." You murmur, quieter, but still annoyed.

"Soap, stop provoking her." Gaz sighs, shaking his head slightly. At least you don't look like you would cry now; good thing Soap has a way to always make everyone annoyed at him. "We'll take this to Price and Ghost, have a proper conversation..."

Soap grunted softly but nodded obediently, taking your small hand in his and bringing it closer, gently rubbing his face against the smooth palm with his eyes closed. Gaz studied you for a moment, but when he saw you standing still, just looking mildly annoyed, he smiled slightly.

Gentle little Witch. No mature Witch would let a Familiar have their way like that. Were all baby witches this cute? They lacked the danger and wild nature of older witches, making them seem so soft.

"C'mon lassie, we need to have a good, long chat, uhm?" Soap murmured, getting back up to his feet, not letting go of your small hand.

"Why...?" You almost whined, keeping your voice quiet, but still letting your displeasure obvious.

"Because some baby 'ere never had proper teachings," Soap smiled humorously, tugging you along with Gaz immediately closing in beside you, smilling gently down at you.

"Let's go get Price and Ghost, sweetheart."

[gay-dorito-dust]

Just some big three pjo things I think about.

Percy -the little shit- would absolutely utilise his ability of water to mess with you.

100%

If you leave a water bottle unopened, expect Percy to surge what little water was left inside to spray you when you’re going in for a drink. Leaving you soaked and glaring at the boy across the camp.

He thinks he’s funny but he’s really not.

You can’t even try to do this back to him as it usually results in it being thrown back in your face, literally as you’re reminded that this dude can walk into waist deep water, and miraculously come back as dry as he was before entering.

So needless to say you keep your water bottles tightly shut when you’re near Percy in case he’s feeling funny that day or has that certain gleam in his eye.

Percy can’t be trusted near uncapped water bottles, it’s a rule to never leave Percy near them or be within sight of any un opened water bottles.

Percy is not allowed to participate in watergun fights…for very obvious reasons and even if he does, the bastard had to be prohibited from using his powers at all during the watergun fights!

Everyone else in camp will be soaked and he would be dry as fuck, everyone calls it cheating but Percy calls it otherwise. Smug little twat.

Also don’t imagine Percy using the water out of an water bottle to douse you and when your chasing him, ready to kill him, his excuse is that ‘it’s a hot day in camp and I thought you could cool off a little!’ As if that was going to save him from the ass whooping your about to give him.

Nico has silent footsteps.

He can travel through shadows.

This is a recipe for disaster as he can easily scare you without having to try all that hard. And it’s the worst feeling ever.

He won’t know just how silent his footsteps are until you point it out to him or else he’ll think that he’s more than made his arrival known. (He absolutely didn’t)

Nico could emerge from the shadow nearby and walk up to you and casually say ‘hey’ and you’ll almost come out of your own skin when you realised the pale Italian in the aviator jacket next to you.

‘Fucking hell Nico’ you’d groan as you grasp your chest, trying to calm yourself down from the initial scare. ‘Warn me next time.’ You would add and Nico would only look at you as though you had grown a second head.

He had no clue what you were on about but would continue his day like he would any other, doing the same exact thing to other campers and getting the same exact reaction he got out of you too many times to be coincidental.

Even when he’s not shadow traveling, his footsteps are quite enough to have you believe that he had just appeared out of nowhere, and not walked the entirety of camp just to tell you something.

‘You’ve got to stop popping up out of nowhere.’ You tell him.

‘I’m not doing anything!’ He’d reply.

‘You’ve got silent footsteps Nico! Can’t hear shit when you’re creeping up on me, do you want me to die?’ You’d say and all of sudden everything made sense to Nico as to why everyone seemed to be unable to notice him until he was standing nearby.

‘Oh.’ He’d say. Does this change anything? No not really as Nico finds it funny to see people get scared. It’s made even funnier when on Halloween when everyone is done telling their scariest stories.

Jason tends to electric shock people, not on purpose, it just happens without warning.

I’m talking rubbing your hands on a carpet super fact and touching someone’s arm, or rubbing a balloon against yourself and watching in awe as it makes the hairs on your arms stick up.

However he didn’t need to rub his hands on a carpet to give someone an eclectic shock, he can just reach out to you and make it happen.

You could just be reaching for his hand and zap! You’ve been given an electric shock by Jason grace! You flinch back to rub your hand and Jason thought you were hurt and was already reaching out to you to help when-

You guessed it another electric shock happens.

It doesn’t hurt, you’re not in any pain but still you were being zapped at the end of the day.

Jason isn’t aware of this ability until afterwards and he’s just as confused as you and will not reach out for you for a while until he’s certain he won’t shock you.

Which is a solid 50/50. It happens when he least expects it or it can strike twice if you were the unlucky soul to get an electric shock back to back.

Guess it’s a weird perk of being the child of Zeus.

[muniimyg]

is this lame but like bedchem jk braiding her hair or helping her with the skincare or idk. something like that??? cause i think that's cute? or nah? 😪

♡ 02: skincare

series m.list // taglist unavailable

note: this ask was very cute ! thank u for sending in baby <3

//

jungkook wipes the smudged eyeliner from under your eye with the back of his knuckle—gently, like he’s done this a hundred times. and maybe he has. maybe not exactly like this, but in the ways that matter. steady hands. soft voice. that quiet, irritatingly calm look on his face like he knows you better than you know yourself.

your legs are crossed on the toilet lid, your dress bunched around your thighs, the edge of the lace digging faintly into your skin. your heels are kicked off somewhere by the sink, and your eyes are glossy—not just from the alcohol buzzing in your veins, but from whatever emotion's decided to settle into your chest tonight and make itself at home.

“stop looking at me like that,” you grumble, avoiding his eyes. “and you're awful at this.”

“i'm doing my best,” jungkook pouts. “and looking at you like what? am i not allowed to look at my girlfriend?”

“shut up,” you say, playfully shoving his chest. “you’re impressed with yourself. it's all in your eyes.”

he huffs a laugh. smug. pleased. “i am, though. killed it tonight. all your friends love me.”

you frown. “exactly. not fair.”

“why not?” he asks, voice lighter now, fingertips tilting your chin so he can reach your other eye. he’s close enough that you can feel the warmth of him—his scent, his breath, the way his thumb brushes your cheek without even realizing it. “don’t you want them to like me?”

you inhale, shallow. it’s stupid how easily he gets to you. how even in the middle of a bathroom, with your makeup half-worn and the weight of the night heavy on your spine, he still makes you feel like something precious.

something kept.

“i do. but now we really can’t fuck up.”

your voice cracks at the end. you don’t mean to say it. don’t mean to say any of this. but the thought’s been gnawing at you since dinner. since your best friend hugged him goodbye with that teasing you picked a good one wink. since your older cousin asked when's the wedding, and everyone laughed like it wasn’t the scariest thing you’ve ever heard.

your words confuse him... but not more than the look in your eyes does.

jungkook’s hand stills against your cheek. his brow furrows, soft and slow.

“what do you mean, baby?”

you shrug. feel your throat start to burn.

“just… now if we don’t work out, they’ll know. and i’ll be embarrassed. like, oh, remember him? the perfect one? yeah, didn’t last.”

your voice is smaller than you want it to be. more fragile. it makes you hate yourself a little. makes you want to pull it all back in.

he raises a brow. “oh. a-are you planning our breakup already? are you mad at me for being a boyfriend that's good enough for you? that even your friends like me?”

you press your lips together.

“no,” you mutter. “no. it's not that... i'm lucky. i know i am... it's just... fuck, i’m just saying… this is my first relationship and i don’t know what i’m doing half the time. and i just—i don’t wanna mess it up.”

you look down at your hands, fingers curled around the hem of your dress.

“am i…” your voice dips, quieter now. “am i doing okay?”

for a second, all you can hear is the buzz of the bathroom light. the muted thump of music from the living room. your own heartbeat, loud in your ears.

he doesn’t say anything. just sets the cotton pad down on the counter, steps closer until his knees brush against yours.

“woof woof.”

your head jerks up. “i hate it when you—”

“and i hate it when you have no confidence in yourself,” he says, and this time there’s no teasing in his voice. just quiet, certain warmth. “you aren’t going to fuck this up just because it’s your first time.”

his gaze flickers over your face, like he’s memorizing you. like he always does.

“to be honest with you… i’ve never felt this lost in a relationship too,” he admits, softer now. “you don’t need to know what you’re doing. i don’t either.”

you stare at him. soft, vulnerable. breath held like if you move, the moment might disappear.

“you feel lost?” you ask. “holy shit. what are we doing then?”

he blinks at you, mouth quirking, just barely. his voice dips a little, like it’s shy and steady all at once.

“i mean it in a way like… like i’ve never felt like this with anyone. it’s my first time too.”

he doesn't say it.

he doesn't have to.

you know what he means. you feel it, all the way down to your bones.

this is his first time in love.

your chest squeezes, and you have to look away before your emotions tip too far again.

“so we’re not gonna fuck this up?” you whisper, like you’re scared to ask. like the answer matters more than you’re ready to admit.

he smiles. leans in and presses a kiss to your cheek, lips soft and lingering.

“no,” he murmurs. “we’re not. i’ll get started on a potion or something that we can drink. it’ll have powers and shit so we can be together forever. how does that sound?”

you blink, a laugh caught in your throat. you study him—messy hair, sleeves rolled, chain glinting against his collarbone. that stupid, sweet face of his that always knows how to disarm you.

“can you make it pink?” you ask, quiet.

“i’ll try.”

you sigh. “okay. fine. i’ll keep dating you.”

he grins, pressing a kiss to your forehead now. “oh thank god. would’ve hated to break the news to your friends.”

[avidfics]

giving into sevika's advances

summary: Sevika has been chasing you for weeks and you finally give in.

warnings: Grumpy sevika, bratty reader, suggestive topics, light touching, reader takes charge

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Fidgeting. During interrogations, Sevika has had plenty of macho men fidget under her weighted glare. It was one of her favorite hobbies afterall. 

But for her to be fidgeting? Disgusting. Yet, sure enough, her thumb was reflexively flicking her pocket knife open and closed repeatedly in a flash as her eyes kept catching any movement from the bar’s swinging doors. Waiting. 

“Does my eyes deceive me?” Finn, one of the flunkies on her team shout loudly to the other people on her team in the otherwise empty bar. “Is the great terror of Zaun nervous?” 

A chorus of ooohs echo around the room, ignoring the heavy ‘thud’ of Sevika spearing the wooden table with her knife. “If you like being able to move your jaw I suggest you shut your mouth. Or I'll do it for you."

“Do it” he tosses right back. A cocky smile bright as he swags over and proudly offers the side of his face. “But 50 bucks bets that you won’t, cause your sweet little assistant will be here any minute and you don’t want her to see the monster you really are.” 

The fucking idiot hit the nail on the head, and boy was that annoying. Two months ago you showed up, looking like a vision out of one of her dirtiest fantasies. You strolled into Silco’s main base, ass clad in black jeans that hugged you like a second skin and a blouse, though modest enough, had a few buttons loose at the top that provided a peek at your cleavage if someone looked down hard enough. 

And sevika did look. She wasn’t ashamed. Your tits were fucking glorious and made her clit so sensitive her eyes crossed.  

Jinx- the wacko- loved your confidence immediately and after an extensive background check, and minor threatening, Zilco hired you. 

And Sevika had been trying to get in your pants every single chance she got, even though you weren’t her usual easily submissive type. You were prissy, stubborn, and had a stick up your ass that she desperately wanted to take out and replace with her silicone cock. 

She was pussy whipped and she hadn’t even had a taste. Even her team had noticed. 

Which is why she had to work double time to keep them in check and why her fist slams into Finn’s metal jaw with a satisfying crunch. The pain in her knuckles felt good and a bloodthirsty smile slicks across her face even as she presses the pocket knife to Finn’s neck. “Pay up fucker. And let it be a reminder that I could give a fuck about some assistant’s sweet ass.” 

“Good to know.”

+++

The topic of your sweet ass was not what you were expecting to hear walking into Silco’s bar to handle some paperwork. 

Especially not from the Sevika. Who looked dumbstruck at you even with Finn’s collar bunched in her bruised fist and the tip of a knife to his neck. 

Crap she looked good af. A black muscle shirt clung to her frame and cuffed at her biceps. Her hair was in a half hazard ponytail with loose pieces falling into her eyes. Giving her a slightly crazed look that made your face heat. 

But once again, this was a reminder that Sevika was not someone to mess with. She was the second scariest person in Zaun, and the blood on her knuckles served as an excellent reminder not to fraternize with your superiors, no matter how delicious they looked in a fitted tee.  

“Please continue.” You swivel away from her stunned look in your high heels. “My ass and I will be making the rounds.” 

Mumbled curses and the distinct sound of Finn’s goan of pain follows you as you strid away, a purposeful swing in your hips, to another member of the team to get details on inventory. They give you an easy grin and answer your questions but clam up as a shadow falls over the table.

“Scram.” It wasn’t a question and they hurried away. 

You huff a sigh and plop a seat on the now forgotten stool. Crossing your legs just to see dark whiskey colored eyes fasten to your legs for a heated minute. “Sevika, feel free to leave. I wouldn’t want you to worry about my ass and I.” 

A hefty groan leaves her lips, and she drags her hand down her face. “That’s not what I meant.” 

Whatever. You begin your work on your clipboard. “That’s what you said.” 

A whispered “smart ass” is muttered before you jump at her taking your clipboard out your hands and invading your space. “Believe me.” Dark eyes stare down at you with an intensity that makes you shift uncomfortably on the stool in an attempt to alleviate a budding tingle. 

“Your ass is very much a concern of mine.” 

‘Prove it.’’ Is on the tip of your tongue but you hold back. Provoking Sevika would not end well for you or your ass. Get in, get the job done, and get out. Those were the rules. 

You reach your hand out. A demanding arch in your raised eyebrow to convey a bravado you truly didn’t possess. “Hand it over. I’m sure there’s a face you need to pummel in an alley somewhere.” A mocking smile plasters across your lips. “Better get to it.”

One step. That’s all it takes for her to encroach closer in your space. So close you can see the way her nostrils flare. “Face pummeling is on Friday’s.” A heat was simmering between the two of you, and the more time you spent in her presence, the more you wavered on deciding if you wanted to cool it or let it go unchecked. Especially as she hid your clipboard out of your reach so her hands were free to grab the wooden legs of your chair and scoot you closer to her.

“Ep!” You were so startled that you wrapped your hands around her wrist and immediately regretted it. Her skin was a contrast. One wrist was so warm to the touch, while the other held a stark coldness. You wondered what the duality would feel like wrapped around in clean sheets, preferably naked. 

None of this escaped Sevika’s notice. The mocking smile that once graced your lips is now mirrored back at you. “I like the sound of you bossing me around.” The words trail as her eyes fasten to your lips. “Do it again.” 

The irony that she was the one making commands wasn’t lost on you. “Leave me alone, Muscle-head. I’m way too much for you. Better stick to your usual simpering type.”

A smirk, the one she wears before charging head first into a fight, emerges. “You don’t think you're my type?” An eye roll in return has her releasing a small chuckle. The unexpected feel of a warm, calloused hand gripping your bare calf makes your facade of boredom slip as you frantically look behind sevika to check for wondering eyes. Luckily, you had seated in a secluded nook of the bar, where a wall partially hid you both. But all it would take is someone popping their head in the entryway to see the inappropriate way your boss was holding you and how much it was turning you on.

And those damn hands just won’t stay still. Your legs were crossed, one over the other, but that didn’t pause Sevika’s frisky hands moving up and down your exposed legs, her thumbs circling around your knees and in a soothing way that hinted at how they would move against your clit. “Think you’re mistaken babe. You might be a bit more brattish than other girls I’ve had, but I guarantee when I get you under me, I’ll have you whining for my touch just like the others.” 

A scoff gets choked in your throat with the new caress against your sensitive skin. There was no hesitancy in her touch, just a heavy grasp that urged you to ease your tightly crossed legs so her wonderful fingers could be closer to where you needed them. 

But you needed to come to your senses. Taking a chance, you lean back and feign falling off the stool, and are satisfied by the speed of sevika hoisting you back up to safety. But it gives you leverage to fist her shirt by the collar and fold her massive body over to your seated height. 

With the new vantage point, her macho act was so transparent you snickered at what you now realized. These past weeks you were sooo apprehensive when it came to Sevika’s blatant advances because you’d have to be insane to entertain the enforcer of Zaun. The fierce enforcer of Silco who made men taller than you piss themselves with just a sharp stare. 

The same woman, who harshly gripped your waist to make sure you were safely seated, didn’t have her usual malice in her eyes when it came to you. In fact, when it came to you, she was oddly docile. Still demanding, but with a gentleness that you never noticed. 

Perhaps, you could have some fun afterall. She’s still leaning over you as you take a chance to goad her. “Strange, from my observation you’re the one doing all the begging.”  The noticeable way her jaw tightens is almost humorous. “And it sounds so good coming from your lips.” 

You both were in a trance as you dare to cover her hands with yours. And the way her eyes flare totally made it worth it. “Maybe I was too hasty to turn you down all those times.” you murmured against check.

“Ya think,” she saids with a grumpy attitude but the way her hands are frantically palming your exposed flesh under your direction is a dead giveaway of her need. “Made me chase your ass for weeks.”

“Poor baby.” you coo against her sensitive ear. “Let’s make a deal.” Both pairs of hands move up your legs and reach past your skirt and to your upper thighs, scrunching up your skirt so much your panties are surely peaking through. You can feel the tightly held restraint it was taking Sevika to not overpower your hands. Just that knowledge made a delicious shiver shoot up from your core. “We’ll continue with whatever this is but with one condition. I get total control of everything while we’re together.” 

A rough scoff rakes up Sevika's chest, yet she presses herself even closer to your body. Her nose dragging up and down your collarbone. “Babe, ya know who you're talking to right? Think I’m that whipped that I’ll follow you around as if you have beer-flavored tits? Why would I when there’s a brothel right down the street?”

Asshole

“That’s up to you. But let’s test it out first, yeah?” Her quick head nod is the only green light needed as you smile with satisfaction. Slowly you remove your hands off hers. “What do you want?” you whisper in her ear. 

The answer is immediate. “Need to get between your warm thighs.” The second after you murmur a concession your legs are spread wide to accommodate Sevika’s bulky form that was now pressed against your panty-covered pussy. A tiny moan leaves your lips as she presses you even closer so you need to depend on her to avoid tumbling out the chair.

You dodge the hungry kiss she tries to plant on your lips. “Uh uh, musclehead.” You pry up in the chair, pressing slow, wet kisses along her neck. “I didn’t give you permission.” A slew of curses are tossed from her impatient lips as she throws her head back. Which is perfect for you as you continue to attack her neck. The image of her tortured face will be in your memory forever. “What’s your choice, love? Me or the brothel?” It takes effort but you reach your lips to her ear and suckle her earlobe.

“Shit. You fuck.” she groans. 

“Good choice baby. Go ahead and taste me.” A hand holds the nape of your neck as her full lips takes over and devours you with the most desperate kiss you ever experienced. All you can do was sit there and take it with the knowledge that you were still in full control. 

It was over too soon but Sevika wore a goofy overly confident wolfish grin. “Knew you’d give in eventually.”

The eyeroll was inescapable as you give her a patronizing pat on the chest. “Sure musclehead. Follow me to your office, your going to finish my paperwork while I take a nap.”

She grumbles but is right on your heels. Taking the clipboard in one hand and your hand in the other. “Guess this makes me your obedient lap dog now, huh?”

“You said it not me.”

[vandme12]

ronin x horror gamer mc with an unhinged sense of humour in their videos who also screams easily... perchance..

TITLE ; MY BOYFRIEND EXPOSED MY YOUTUBE CHANNEL TO A SERVER FULL OF KILLERS, AND I’M CRYING IN THE CLUB 💀😭 (NOT CLICKBAIT) (I HATE HIM)

Summary :So, boom. I’ve been a horror YouTuber for YEARS, right? Millions of subs, unhinged commentary, screaming at pixels—y’all know the vibes. My boyfriend? A literal serial killer. (Don’t ask. It’s a long story.) I thought I was slick, keeping my channel a secret… but NAH, this man hacked my shit and EXPOSED ME to a dark web server full of murderers. Now they’re watching my videos, roasting me in real time, and I’m rethinking my life choices. Pray for me. 🙃💀

The relationship was… insane. And that was exactly why you liked it.

Ronin, Devil’s Butcher, the man who spent his free time painting the streets red and making sure certain people wouldn’t see another sunrise, had somehow fallen for you—the screaming, unhinged horror YouTuber who couldn’t even keep a straight face when chased by a PNG jumpscare.

It was chaos, but it worked.

You weren’t like him. You didn’t kill. You didn’t crave the thrill of it. But you understood him, in a way that made him pause. In a way that made him obsessed. You listened, you made him laugh, you gave advice when he didn’t even ask for it. You weren’t scared of him—not really. Not enough to make him bored.

You were a saint, in his words. Rotten to the core, but a saint nonetheless.

And that? That was fascinating.

Right now, you were on a video call, the glow of your monitor casting sharp shadows on your face as you leaned forward, chin resting on your palm. The Slaughterhouse server, his little serial killer-exclusive hideout on the dark web, was buzzing with activity. Your username was still a mystery to him, because you were a menace and refused to give him your YouTube handle.

“Why the fuck is your camera quality so good?” Ronin drawled, tilting his head. His devilish grin stretched wide, all sharp teeth and chaotic energy barely contained behind lazy amusement.

“You like it?” You batted your lashes. “It’s a 4K Ultra HD ‘You Suck at Stealth’ Experience.”

Ronin chuckled, low and rich. “Yeah? That why I hear you screaming in surround sound?”

Your face burned. “Shut up.”

“No, no, I’m serious,” he continued, eyes glinting with sadistic amusement. “I got into the server earlier, and guess what I find? Some random clip of you absolutely losing your shit in a horror game. I mean—flailing, screeching, actual banshee-level wailing.”

You deadpanned. “Oh, cool. You found the documentary of my suffering.”

He sighed dramatically. “And here I thought you were fearless.”

“Oh, no, babe.” You grinned. “I’m a coward with a loud mouth. There’s a difference.”

Ronin barked out a laugh. “Yeah? And what’s stopping me from tracking you down and seeing this horror for myself?”

You clicked your tongue. “Please. If you find out where I live, the scariest thing you’ll see is my sleep schedule.”

“Oooh, threats.” He leaned in, eyes narrowing. “You sure you should be teasing the Devil, sweetheart?”

“Ronin, babe.” You mimicked his tone. “I literally watched you stab a man on a livestream last week. What’s a little teasing gonna do?”

His grin widened.

Oh, he liked that.

“God, you really are a little menace,” he mused, tilting his head. “I should punish you for keeping secrets, y’know. What kind of lover doesn’t tell their beloved their little YouTube identity?”

You huffed. “One that enjoys making you suffer.”

He laughed again, full-bodied, delighted. “You’re lucky I like suffering.”

“I’m not telling you my YouTube name,” you said, grinning as you leaned back in your chair. “Figure it out yourself, Detective.”

Ronin hummed, amused. “Oh? Now that sounds like a challenge.”

“Oh, I got a real challenge for you.” You wagged a finger at the screen. “How about you put your money where your blood-stained mouth is and play a horror game with me?”

His eyes sparked with interest. “You wanna play with the Devil, sweetheart?”

“Only if you can handle it.” You smirked. “We’re playing Death by Daylight.”

Ronin’s smile stretched slow and sharp, his voice a velvet purr. “Oh, you are a little menace.”

You grabbed your headset and console, cackling as you loaded up the game. The moment the match started, you were fine—laughing, cracking jokes, and doing your best to not be absolute garbage at surviving.

Until.

Until Ronin was the Hunter.

And you? You were one of the unlucky little Survivors.

It started off fun. You ran around, trying to fix generators, dodging traps, bullying NPCs with flashlight spam. But then? Oh, then. He started chasing you.

You turned a corner and—BOOM!

“OH MY FUCKING GOD—” You shrieked, throwing your controller. “WHAT THE FUCK?! NO—NOPE—”

Ronin’s deep, sadistic laughter filled your headset.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he crooned, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Where ya runnin’?”

You SPRINTED. FULL SPEED.

“WHY ARE YOU SO FAST?! WHAT THE FUCK—”

“You’re screaming a lot,” Ronin said, chasing you effortlessly. “Scared?”

“NO, I’M JUST PRACTICING FOR WHEN I EVENTUALLY DIE!”

He cackled. “Oh, baby, you’re making this too fun.”

You threw a pallet down. He smashed through it like a goddamn movie villain.

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Ronin sang, voice pure menace. “You think you can hide from the Devil?”

You DOVE into a locker. Immediate regret.

Silence.

You held your breath.

The locker door creaked open.

“Peek-a-boo.”

“FUCKING—”

You flailed so hard your headset almost flew off. “STOP! STOP! I HAVE A FAMILY—”

“No, you don’t,” Ronin deadpanned. “I checked.”

“WHAT THE FUCK?!”

“Mm. Shouldn’t have let me in the server, sweetheart.” He grabbed you—instant down.

Your soul left your body.

Ronin chuckled, dark and low, dragging your poor, helpless character to the hook.

“Well, well,” he purred. “Looks like the Devil wins.”

You groaned, dramatically slumping in your chair. “Bro, you are the worst.”

“I know,” he said smoothly. “And you love it.”

…Fucking hell, you did.

“Ohhh, you’re fucked now.” You grinned, cracking your knuckles as the second match loaded up.

Ronin chuckled, the sound low and amused. “Oh? That so, sweetheart?”

“Damn right. I’m the hunter now.” You leaned forward, eyes gleaming. “Time to see how fast you can run, Devil.”

The match started. You spawned in, weapon in hand, heart pounding with the thrill of the hunt. The tables had turned.

Ronin was a Survivor.

And you? You were about to make him scream.

You stalked the map, watching for movement, bloodlust thrumming in your veins. Then, you saw him.

Ronin, crouched near a generator, totally unaware.

You licked your lips.

“Ohhh, what do we have here?”

His head snapped up. You charged.

“OH—FUCK ME—”

Ronin bolted.

“COME HERE, YOU LITTLE BITCH!”

He cackled, dodging around a tree. “Damn, sweetheart, I didn’t know you were this bloodthirsty.”

You launched after him, voice pitching into insanity. “OH, I’M COMING FOR THAT ASS.”

He barely dodged your swing. “You say that like I’m supposed to be scared.”

“You should be, because I’m about to shove this weapon so far up your—”

“WHOA, WHOA—” Ronin wheezed with laughter, vaulting over a window.

You sprinted after him. “YOU CAN’T OUTRUN ME, DEVIL—I’VE BEEN TRAINING FOR THIS SINCE I LEARNED TO CRAWL.”

Ronin howled with laughter. “You’re outta your goddamn mind—”

“Oh, YOU THINK?!” You lunged, barely missing him. “I AM UNHINGED! I AM THE NIGHT!”

Ronin snorted. “You’re a fucking gremlin.”

“I’M YOUR GREMLIN, NOW HOLD STILL AND LET ME KILL YOU.”

He darted through a cabin, knocking over obstacles. “Gotta catch me first, sweetheart.”

“OH, I WILL. AND WHEN I DO, I’M GONNA—”

CRASH.

You slammed into a door.

Silence.

Ronin lost it.

“NO FUCKING WAY—DID YOU JUST—”

You groaned, voice muffled. “I AM SO TIRED OF THIS BULLSHIT.”

His laughter echoed through your headset, genuine, unrestrained. “Sweetheart, I think you just killed yourself harder than I ever could.”

“I swear to GOD, RONIN—”

“Oh, you sound mad,” he teased. “You okay? Need me to call the cops?”

“BITCH, YOU’RE A SERIAL KILLER—”

He chuckled darkly. “Exactly. So, why didn’t you call them?”

You froze.

“…What.”

“You had so many opportunities.”

The game continued around you, but you didn’t move. The hairs on your arms stood up.

Ronin’s voice was low, dangerous, smug. “What’s the matter, sweetheart?”

Your heart skipped. He was playing. He had to be. Right?

Your mouth opened. Closed. Then—

“…Man, shut your ass up and get back here so I can murder you.”

This was bullshit.

Ronin was built different. He was fucking carrying this match like he was speedrunning it for world records, and you were seething. Every time you got close—**every damn time—**he’d pull some stupid anime protagonist bullshit dodge and sprint off like the wind was whispering cheats into his ear.

And the worst part? He was laughing.

Laughing his whole ass off while you fumbled around like a drunk toddler with a knife.

“Nah, nah—ain’t no way, sweetheart!” Ronin wheezed, dodging another swing with the smoothness of someone who was quite literally used to running for his life.

Your controller creaked in your grip. “I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS WARM AS FUCK.”

“WHAT?!” He cackled.

“YEAH, YOU HEARD ME, YOU SLIPPERY LITTLE BITCH.” You lunged again—missed. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU PUT YOUR SOCKS ON, THEY’RE JUST A LITTLE BIT DAMP.”

Ronin stumbled from laughing too hard. “SWEETHEART—”

“NAH, SHUT YOUR MURDEROUS ASS UP. I HOPE EVERY SINGLE TIME YOU TAKE A SHOWER, YOU FORGET TO BRING A TOWEL.”

He vaulted over another fucking window.

You saw red.

“I HOPE YOUR FAVORITE SHOW GETS CANCELLED ON A CLIFFHANGER, YOU PIECE OF SHIT—”

Ronin was gasping, struggling to run through his unhinged laughter. “WHY ARE YOU—WHEEZING—LIKE THIS?”

“I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU GET COMFORTABLE, SOMEONE CALLS YOUR NAME FROM THE OTHER ROOM.”

“OH MY GOD—”

You sprinted after him, rage fueling your every move. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU HEAR MUSIC, IT’S A LOOP OF A SONG THAT NEVER HITS THE CHORUS.”

“YOU ARE EVIL.”

You SWUNG. Missed. Again.

Ronin yelped, still running. “YOU CAN’T TOUCH ME—I AM SPEED.”

“SPEED THESE NUTS, MOTHERFUCKER.”

Ronin straight-up tripped from laughing so hard, scrambling back up just before you could land a hit.

“Nah, nah, you need to be locked up, sweetheart.”

“SAYS THE SERIAL KILLER!”

Ronin screeched around a corner. “AND I’M STILL FASTER THAN YOU—”

You swung—nothing but air.

“I HOPE YOUR FAVORITE HOODIE ALWAYS HAS A LOOSE THREAD THAT TICKLES YOUR ARM LIKE A FUCKING SPIDER.”

He CHOKED. “SWEETHEART—”

“NAH, I’M NOT DONE!” You saw him fixing another generator. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU HAVE TO PEE REALLY BADLY, SOMEONE STARTS A CONVERSATION WITH YOU. AND IT’S WEIRDLY PERSONAL.”

Ronin folded over laughing, missing his skill check. “I CAN’T—”

You whiffed a hit AGAIN.

“I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU WAKE UP, IT’S THREE MINUTES BEFORE YOUR ALARM.”

Ronin ran for his life. “YOU ARE A MENACE—”

You were foam-at-the-mouth feral. “I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU’RE ABOUT TO WIN IN A GAME, YOUR CONTROLLER DIES.”

“STOP—”

“NO, RUNNING MAN, YOU GON’ LISTEN!”

Ronin fucking fell.

You raised your weapon, triumphant.

Until—

BEFORE YOU COULD HIT HIM, THE MATCH ENDED.

You stared.

He stared.

Ronin busted out laughing so hard, he wheezed. “NAAAH, AIN’T NO WAY!”

You threw your controller.

“I HOPE YOUR DOORDASH DRIVER STEALS YOUR FOOD, YOU BITCH.”

"YOU SLIPPERY MOTHERFUCKER."

Ronin was still laughing, his voice smooth and unbothered, like he hadn’t just bullied you into oblivion.

“Damn, sweetheart,” he drawled. “You got a lotta words for someone who just lost.”

“JIMMY-ASS MAN. STUPID-ASS MAN. FUCKING BALD-HEADED MOTHERFUCKER.”

“I got hair.”

“NOT AFTER I’M DONE WITH YOU.”

Ronin just chuckled, his tone pure, wicked amusement. “Mm. Keep talking, baby. You cursing my name like this is doing something for me.”

Your brain short-circuited.

“FUCK YOU!”

“Oh?” His voice dropped. “That an invitation?”

You froze.

“…Die.”

He laughed, deep and satisfied. “Awww, don’t be shy now.”

You glared at the screen, fuming. “Hope your phone charger only works at a specific angle.”

“I already kill people for fun, sweetheart, you think that’s gonna bother me?”

“Hope every time you try to watch a video, it buffers at the best part.”

He clicked his tongue. “Now you’re just making me stronger.”

You slumped back, defeated. “I hate you.”

“Nah, you love me.”

You did not respond to that.

Instead, you huffed and started typing something on your keyboard. Ronin noticed.

“…What’re you doing?”

You kept typing. “None of your business.”

“Uh-huh.” His tone turned smug. “You forgot I can hack, sweetheart?”

You paused.

He chuckled. “If you’ve connected your YouTube account to this PC… I’ll find it.”

“…You are a menace.”

“And you’re a coward.”

You flipped him off through the screen.

Ronin just grinned. “Not down for a challenge, huh?”

You rolled your eyes. “It’s late. I gotta sleep.”

“Awww, you tuckin’ yourself in like a good little thing?”

“Shut the fuck up, dude.” You turned away from the screen, not looking at him.

Silence stretched for just a moment.

Then, softer than before, you glanced back—just a little.

“…Good night, Ronin.”

For the first time tonight, Ronin hesitated.

Something in his usual cocky expression shifted, just barely.

He stared at you, like he was caught off guard. Like he wasn’t expecting that.

Then, just as quick, his lips curled into something smaller. Less devilish.

“…Good night, sweetheart.”

Ronin leaned back in his chair, fingers idly tapping against his keyboard. His dark eyes gleamed as he smirked at the screen.

“…Alright, sweetheart,” he murmured, voice dripping with amusement. “Let’s see what you’re hiding.”

A few quick keystrokes. A lazy flick of his wrist. And there it was.

Your YouTube channel.

Ronin grinned, low and sharp. “Found you.”

But he didn’t click on it. Not yet.

No, he was patient. He liked the chase. Liked watching people squirm.

Instead, an idea slithered into his mind—something cruel. Something fun.

He wasn’t just gonna see it.

Everyone was.

Ronin’s fingers danced over his keyboard, tapping in silent rhythm. It took almost no effort. A few lines of code. A little redirection.

And suddenly?

Your channel was shared with the entire Slaughterhouse server.

A chat full of killers, freaks, and monsters.

Your secret little safe space? Exposed.

Ronin laughed, low and wicked. “This is gonna be fun.”

And the best part?

You weren’t even online to stop him.

The Slaughterhouse server was quiet—for now.

Everyone had logged in, settled into their usual chaotic energy, waiting for Ronin to start up his usual unhinged antics. But tonight, it seemed Ronin was in a different mood.

He stared at his screen, grinning like a devil, his fingers still hovering above the keys. The server's usual gang was online: Angelic, the femme fatale with a YouTube empire of her own; Misaki, the quirky hitman who never had a quiet moment; V, the cold vigilante who kept a rigid moral code; Vince, the nostalgic slasher; Felicite, the retired killer now pretending to be a normal university student; Luca, the surfer who somehow found himself in the world of murder; and Ai Hua, the ever-distant enigma.

Ronin didn’t waste any time. He quickly typed into the chat:

“Guess what I found, my darlings... Y/N’s YouTube channel.”

Angel immediately pinged. @angelicc

"Oh no..." Angelic's message was short, but it had that tone—the one that said she knew exactly what kind of hell Ronin was about to unleash.

The other members started popping up, one after another, curiosity piqued.

V (K9): “...What? Are you serious?”

Ronin leaned back, watching the chaos unfold. He loved seeing everyone scramble. “Aiooo… look at this.” He dropped the link into the chat for everyone to see.

@angelicc: “Wait, wait, wait—this can’t be real.”

(LUCAA) “WHAT?! They have millions of subscribers? This is—this is insane. What’s their content? That’s... SO COOL!”

Misaki, the ever-energetic hitman, followed up almost immediately.

@hitmeuppp: “I CAN’T EVEN—YOU'RE TELLING ME Y/N’S A HORROR GAMER YOUTUBER??! PMG, I NEED TO KNOW EVERYTHING. WHAT'S THE CHANNEL NAME?!”

Ronin grinned, watching them all react. His fingers danced across the keys, typing out a response.

“Oh, just a little horror gamer channel,” he replied, his words dripping with mock sweetness. “But I don’t think Y/N would want anyone to know about it.”

He didn’t give them the full name—he wasn’t that kind to them.

Luca (LUCA_IS_SO_COOL): “WTF, bro, I thought they were just some random writer— THEY’RE A YOUTUBER??”

Everyone’s reactions were flying through the chat, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. Everyone except for Ronin, who sat back and savored the moment.

“Y/N is a YouTuber.” He said it again, just to let the weight of it sink in. “But don’t worry, I’m not giving away the channel name just yet. Let’s keep things fun, huh?”

V (K9): “You’re seriously going to hold it over us like that?”

Ronin laughed, leaning into the drama. “What can I say? I’ve got a few tricks up my sleeve. But I will tell you this… Y/N’s channel is pretty damn cool.”

Felicite (RetiredKiller): “Wait, is this the Y/N I think it is?”

@hitmeuppp: “You mean the one with the killer humor and scream-worthy reactions?”

“Bingo,” Ronin said, eyes glinting with satisfaction.

But the excitement didn’t stop there. Ronin could feel the hunger growing in the chat. Everyone wanted more.

@angelicc: “...If we’re all spilling secrets, then tell me, Ronin. Why is Y/N so special to you?”

The room went silent for a moment, and Ronin couldn’t help but chuckle at the underlying question. Oh, they were getting too close.

V (K9): "Don't."

The chat stuttered to a halt.

Ronin, lounging in his chair, cocked an eyebrow. "Damn, K9, you sound serious."

V (K9): "I am serious. Don’t reveal their channel. It’s a safety risk."

Angel, usually the first to tease, kept quiet. Felicite, too. Even Misaki, who had been all caps screaming just a second ago, paused.

But Ronin?

Ronin grinned.

"Aww, V, you care."

V (K9): "No, I care about reckless decisions."

Luca chimed in, "V, c'mon, it’s not like we’re about to dox them or some shit."

V (K9): "Doesn’t matter. Their online presence is a vulnerability. The moment someone outside this server recognizes them, they're a target. And that means complications."

Silence.

Then—

"Yeah, yeah, whatever," Ronin waved it off like it was nothing. "Good thing we’re not telling anyone, then."

V (K9): "...Then drop it."

Ronin chuckled. "Nah."

A new notification popped up.

Ronin started a voice call.

Ronin (goreboy): "Alright, bitches. We’re watching one of their videos. Get in VC."

V (K9): "...Ronin."

"Relax, dad," Ronin cooed mockingly. "No one outside this server is seeing shit. It’s just us. And I, for one, wanna see what my darling's been up to."

Hitmeuppp joined immediately. "FUCK YEAH, SCREEN SHARE IT."

Angel sighed, but she joined, too. "I swear to god, if it’s cringey—"

Felicite: "I mean, now I’m curious."

Luca: "Bro, this is actually wild. Are we really about to watch Y/N’s content?"

V didn't move.

"...V?" Ronin drawled. "You gonna join us, or you gonna sit there and sulk like a divorced dad on Christmas?"

V exhaled slowly. Then, finally, he joined.

V (K9): "If this backfires, I’ll kill you myself."

Ronin grinned. "Wouldn’t be the first to try."

Then, with a click, he started the video.

The voice chat buzzed with anticipation.

Ronin leaned back in his chair, watching the others filter into the call. He could already feel the tension from V’s judgmental ass, but he didn’t care. He had the upper hand, and he was going to savor this.

His fingers hovered over the mouse before he clicked play.

The YouTube title flashed on screen, big and bold:

"OUTLAST BUT IF I SCREAM, I OWE MY SOUL TO THE DEVIL (AND I AM BROKE)"

Ronin hit play.

The video opened with your voice—and chaos immediately followed.

"Alright, fuckers. Welcome back. Today, we’re playing Outlast, aka ‘Let’s Run For Our Fucking Lives: The Game.’ The rules? If I scream, I sell my soul. Which is fine, ‘cause let’s be real—I was never making it to heaven anyway."

The moment you appeared on screen, Misaki wheeze-laughed.

"OH MY FUCKING GOD—"

Luca was next. "Nah, why do they talk like this?!"

Angel let out a sharp snort. “This is actually insane.”

V just sighed. "Ugh."

Felicite, arms crossed, hummed. "I like their sense of humor."

Ronin?

Ronin was grinning ear to ear.

"Alright, let’s go. If you don’t know what Outlast is, congrats—you live a blessed life. Basically, I’m playing as a dumbass journalist with the survival instincts of a wet paper bag, sneaking into an abandoned asylum where everyone wants to murder me. So, y’know. A Tuesday."

Luca choked. "WHY TUESDAY?"

Misaki was dying. "Nah, I need to be best friends with them immediately."

Ronin leaned in, eyes gleaming with pure, devilish amusement. "Oh, it gets better."

The video continued.

The game dropped you in a dark hallway. Flickering lights. Creepy-ass atmosphere. Something skittered past in the shadows.

You paused.

"...Nah."

Then you turned around and walked the other way.

Angel burst out laughing. "SAME THO."

"Nope. Not today. I already know how this goes—first jumpscare happens, I shit myself, and y’all in the comments act surprised like we haven’t been through this a thousand times. Not this time, Satan. Not this time."

Ronin grinned. "They’re so dramatic."

V didn’t even blink. "They’re a coward."

"Fine. I guess I have to go forward. But if I get jumpscared, I’m taking someone with me. You hear that, God? If I die, I’m bringing company."

"—OH SHIT—"

Something lunged from the darkness.

You screamed.

Loudly.

Misaki cackled. “OH MY GOD—"

Luca was crying. "BRO, THEY SOUND LIKE A DYING GOAT."

Angel was wheezing. "I CAN'T."

Ronin? Ronin was laughing his ass off.

V, deadpan as always, just muttered, “Pathetic.”

The game continued.

You ran. And ran. And ran.

"OPEN THE FUCKING DOOR—WHY IS IT LOCKED—WHO DESIGNED THIS FUCKING ASYLUM—"

"If I get caught I’m suing someone’s ghost."

"PLEASE—I AM JUST A LITTLE person—"

Felicite actually smirked. "Y/N’s unhinged."

"I hate this. I hate everything. I am so close to throwing my controller. If a jumpscare happens, I am not responsible for my actions."

"—OH YOU BIG BITCH—"

A monster appeared out of nowhere. Right in your face.

You shrieked.

"I HOPE YOUR PILLOW IS ALWAYS WARM ON BOTH SIDES."

Luca gasped. "OH, NAH, THAT’S EVIL."

"I HOPE EVERY TIME YOU PUT ON SOCKS, THEY’RE JUST A LITTLE DAMP."

Angel was crying. "STOP."

"I HOPE YOUR PHONE CHARGER ONLY WORKS WHEN IT’S AT A SPECIFIC ANGLE—"

"—AND YOUR HEADPHONES ALWAYS TANGLE—"

"—AND EVERY TIME YOU POUR CEREAL, YOU RUN OUT OF MILK—"

Misaki collapsed. "FUCKING STOP—"

Even Ronin was gripping his stomach.

"Sweetheart," he chuckled, "you’re a fucking menace."

But the game wasn’t done with you.

Another monster appeared.

Your screams intensified.

"NO. NOPE. NO SIR. I AM A GOOD PERSON—"

"I pay my taxes—"

"I tip my baristas—"

"I DON’T DESERVE THIS—"

"IF I DIE, I’M HAUNTING EVERYONE—"

V sighed heavily. "This is ridiculous."

Ronin just smirked. "What, V? Not a fan?"

V, voice completely flat: "I hate them."

Misaki wheezed. "V, my guy, I have never heard you sound this pissed."

Ronin let out a dark chuckle. "Oh, but we’re not done yet."

The video hit its peak.

"Alright, final chase sequence—LET’S GO, BITCHES—"

"—FUCKING RUN—"

"IF I DIE, I AM TAKING THIS GAME WITH ME TO HELL—"

"THE ONLY THING I FEAR IS GOD AND MY INTERNET CONNECTION DROPPING—"

"OH MY FUCKING—"

Game Over.

You died.

Silence.

Then—

"Welp. I hope everyone watching this stubs their toe at least once today."

The server exploded.

Luca: "FUCKING TOXIC."

Misaki: "THIS WAS THE BEST VIDEO OF MY LIFE."

Angel: "Y/N’S HUMOR IS SO FUCKED UP I LOVE IT."

Felicite: "They are… interesting."

V, exhaling through his nose: "This was a mistake."

Ronin?

Ronin was grinning like the devil himself.

Ronin was already clicking away, a glint of mischief in his eyes.

The next video title appeared, and the moment everyone read it, the laughter started all over again.

"PLAYING P.T. BUT THE DEMON IS SIMPING FOR ME (AND YES, IT'S A FETISH NOW)"

Ronin: "Get ready, kids."

The video opened with you on screen again, but this time, you were in a creepy hallway, staring down a flickering light, the atmosphere ominously quiet. The game, P.T., was known for its unnerving tension, but of course, you were having the time of your life.

"Alright, welcome back, everyone, to me screaming for my life in yet another horror game. Today we’re playing P.T., and I’m so fucking ready to die, I can already feel my heart giving up."

Luca's voice popped up. "P.T.? P.T.?! I love that one."

Misaki’s voice followed, filled with mock enthusiasm. "Oooh, scary."

V muted himself. He was done. Too much.

But it didn’t stop Ronin from grinning even harder. "Shut up, all of you. Just watch."

The tension in the game was already crushing, the haunted house creeping around every corner, but you weren’t letting it get to you. You weren’t going to let it drag you down.

"Okay, so—what’s the plan? Find the baby head in the wall and, like… fight a ghost or some shit? Oh, I hope it’s not the weird demon. I already hate the way it stares at me."

Misaki could barely speak through their laughter. "HOLY SHIT, WHAT DO YOU MEAN—"

Luca, too, was dying. "NAH, THEY'RE JUST TALKING ABOUT IT LIKE IT’S NO BIG DEAL."

Ronin laughed, watching the chaos unfold. You had them hooked, just like last time.

Then you started walking down the hallway. And just like that, everything started to go wrong.

Out of nowhere, a dark figure appeared at the far end of the hallway.

"What the FUCK—"

The lights flickered, casting long shadows, and you could hear the unsettling sounds of footsteps getting closer, getting heavier. The demon was near.

"Oh, hell no. NOT TODAY. NOPE. NOT DEALING WITH THIS SHIT AGAIN."

You turned and ran—straight into the demon.

The loud, gurgling scream of the ghost filled the speakers as it lunged at you. But instead of a jump-scare scream, you immediately started—laughing.

"HOLY SHIT, I HATE THIS GAME—BUT YOU KNOW WHAT? I KIND OF LIKE THE ATTENTION, YOU KNOW? IS THIS A SIMP MOVE, DEMON? YOU WANT MY SOUL? YOU GONNA GET IT ON A DISCOUNT?"

The VC erupted in chaos.

Misaki was laughing so hard they couldn’t breathe. "WHAT THE FUCK—NO WAY, DID THEY JUST—"

Luca, still holding back his giggles, managed to gasp out, "THE DEMON—IS SIMPING—"

Even Angel was wheezing, face buried in her hands. "THE DEVIL IS SIMPING—FOR MY DARLING—"

Meanwhile, V was still muted. But you could tell he was shaking his head. He couldn’t even deal.

Ronin, on the other hand, was grinning ear to ear. "Oh, sweetheart, you’re a fucking menace. Keep going."

The video had already cut to a new section, showing you attempting to solve the puzzle in the game, all while completely losing your mind.

"Alright, let’s figure out how to—OH GOD, THE WALL IS BREATHE—WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS GAME, THIS SHIT IS SO WRONG—"

"AM I GONNA DIE, OR DO I GET THE BAD ENDING WHERE THE DEMON KEEPS ASKING FOR MY TWITTER HANDLE AND THEN DMS ME AT 2 AM ASKING IF I WANT TO ‘CHILL’??? LIKE, WHAT EVEN IS THIS—"

Luca was practically rolling on the floor. "BRO, Y/N’S GOT THE DEMON AT 2 AM IN THE DMs. WHAT THE FUCK?"

Angel snorted. "IMAGINE A DEMON ASKING FOR YOUR TWITTER HANDLE—"

Meanwhile, Ronin was cackling, clearly loving every moment of it. "Oh, I swear, I have never seen someone so obsessed with making everything worse. And I love it."

The tension in the game was escalating, but you weren’t having any of it.

The demon’s voice came through the speakers again, calling you, taunting you.

"Oh, you want me to come closer? Yeah? Come give me a kiss, you sick fuck."

The demon stopped right in front of you, its twisted face smirking.

You immediately shouted, "FUCK OFF, I CAN'T DEAL WITH THIS FLIRTING."

Misaki, completely unhinged, screamed, "BRUHHHH—THEY’RE TALKING TO THE DEMON LIKE IT’S NOTHING."

Luca almost couldn't contain himself. "SOMEONE GET THEM A TINDER ACCOUNT."

Ronin snickered, shaking his head. "You know, if they just let the demon have its way, we’d probably be done with the game by now."

But you weren’t backing down. No way.

You turned toward the door, and the puzzle had finally clicked. You solved the issue.

"Alright, fuck this shit. I’m out. I beat it, I solved the goddamn mystery, and I’m gonna go cry in a corner like the rest of us would."

The video ended abruptly with you standing in front of the door. Then came the outro, as usual.

"Okay, that’s enough of this shit. I’m gonna go crawl into bed now. If you see a demon in your hallway tonight, tell it I’m busy. I’ve got too many fucking simps already. Bye."

The voice channel exploded.

Misaki: "OH MY GOD, THIS IS THE BEST THING I’VE EVER SEEN."

Luca: "BRO, THEY REALLY JUST TOLD A DEMON TO FUCK OFF LIKE IT WAS A TINDER DATE."

Angel: "I cannot with them."

V finally unmuted himself, his tone icy. "This is madness."

But even V, as deadpan as ever, couldn’t stop a tiny smirk from slipping onto his face. "…I’m actually impressed."

The laughter in the voice chat was so loud, even V muted himself, unable to hide the slight smirk that played at the corner of his lips. Misaki was practically on the floor at this point, Luca's voice wavering between choking on air and outright giggling. Angel had her mic muted to contain her cackles, and Felicite just kept shaking her head, trying to maintain some level of composure.

But Ronin?

Ronin was beaming, like a cat who'd just eaten the canary. He'd won, and he was going to relish every damn second of it. He wiped tears from his eyes, his laughter finally fading into a satisfied chuckle as he settled back into his chair.

"Y'know," he started, smirking into the mic, "this is exactly why I adore you, sweetheart. Your humor’s so fucking dark it gives me hope."

V unmuted himself just enough to add, his voice deadpan as usual, "I told you this was a bad idea."

Misaki cut in, barely able to breathe. "A bad idea? No, no, this is the best idea we've had in ages!"

Luca agreed, barely able to form words through his snickers. "I can't believe you went THERE with the toe-stubbing thing. That's psychotic."

Ronin grinned. "You guys ain't seen nothing yet."

Without another word, Ronin opened up another game.

This time, it was "The Haunting of Abaddon Manor."

The title screen was eerie—dark, sepia tones, a decrepit mansion surrounded by fog, the kind of game that oozed dread from the get-go.

Ronin clicked to begin the game, his fingers dancing across the keys as he casually glanced back at the chat, anticipating the reactions.

"Alright, alright, ladies and gents, we're about to enter Abaddon Manor. It's got everything: creepy ghosts, insane-asylum vibes, and the worst part? There's a demonic doll lurking somewhere. I don’t trust dolls, y’all. They definitely have something to hide."

Misaki: "I don't even trust dolls in real life, bro. Like, how does something so small, with no moving parts, look so evil?"

Luca: "I’m not even playing and I'm already scared."

Ronin chuckled darkly, adjusting his headset. "Well, buckle up. We’re about to do the demon doll dance, whether we like it or not."

He dove in, leading the way through the haunted manor. The atmosphere was thick, every creak and moan of the old house seeming to whisper threats into the air.

And then...

The first jumpscare hit.

"What the fuuu—"

Ronin screamed, his voice cracking slightly. But as soon as the horrifying shadow darted across the screen, he laughed. A long, maniacal laugh. "Goddamn, that one was actually pretty good."

Misaki lost it. "BRO! What are you, a fucking demon? Who laughs at their own fear?"

Luca was still half-laughing, half-terrified. "Why do I feel like I’m watching a horror movie with a psychopath?"

But it didn’t stop there.

No, Ronin was on a roll.

"Alright, alright. Now we’ve got some creepy whispers in the background. This place is a fucking nightmare, and I’m the only one who can survive it. Or die trying—whichever comes first."

The camera swung wildly, a door creaking open by itself, and then—the doll.

The doll, with its twisted porcelain face and sinister grin, appeared at the top of the staircase, watching Ronin's character move closer.

"OH SHIT," Ronin whispered, voice actually laced with genuine unease. "NOPE. NOT TODAY."

And then he started running, slamming doors behind him in a frantic attempt to escape the doll.

But then, as if taunting him, the doll’s laugh echoed through the house.

"I SEE YOU."

"AHHHHHHHH, FUCK OFF."

Ronin screamed again, but this time, the laughter that followed was relentless. He was losing his mind in the best way possible.

Meanwhile, in the voice chat...

Misaki, still trying to breathe, shouted, "Nuh-uh, fuck this! Ronin's so gone—"

Angel laughed uncontrollably. "Literally acting like a serial killer in the making."

V, deadpan as always, muttered, "Pathetic."

But just as Ronin went to explore a new room in the manor, something unexpected happened.

You joined the voice call.

You'd been quiet for a while, working on some of your own content, but now—now you were here.

The moment you entered, the others fell into an awkward silence. And then—

You heard it.

The familiar voice of Ronin, the man who had just shown you the depths of hell in his own twisted way, now speaking the very words you’d been dreading.

"Y/N—"

He chuckled darkly, the screen of his game flickering as he leaned back in his chair, still amused by the game, still completely unfazed. "I found your channel. Everyone is about to get a front-row seat."

Your blood ran cold.

"What the fuck did you say?"

Ronin's grin only grew, more sinister by the second. "I said, I found your channel, sweetheart. And I’m showing everyone. What, you think I wouldn’t share? It’s just too good. Too much fun."

"NOOOOOOO!"

You could feel your skin burn, a wave of absolute embarrassment hitting you like a freight train. "Ronin, what the FUCK, no!"

"Oh, it’s too late for that. You’re already famous now, darling. You’re mine. Ours."

You could hear the smirk in his voice as it oozed into every word.

The others?

They were laughing, but their laughter was mixed with a touch of shock.

Misaki was the first to shout. "NO WAY. BRO."

Luca’s voice was tinged with disbelief. "Y/N’S CHANNEL IS THE ONE WITH OVER TWO MILLION SUBSCRIBERS? THE FUCK—"

Angel snorted. "Holy shit, and I thought I had a good sense of humor."

Felicite raised an eyebrow. "No wonder you're so... unpredictable."

V, in his usual deadpan tone, simply said, "This was a mistake."

But Ronin was having the time of his life. His eyes sparkled with malicious glee as he leaned forward, eager to reveal every unhinged thing you'd ever said on your channel.

"Don’t worry, baby. This is just the beginning. You’re gonna love it."

You groaned, the shame creeping up your spine like an ice-cold knife. "Fuck you, Ronin!"

His only response was a laugh, deep and menacing. "Hell, sweetheart. You’re mine. We’re all gonna watch."

You sat there, staring at your screen in absolute betrayal, feeling your soul physically leave your body as Ronin continued grinning like the bastard he was.

You tried everything—leaving the voice chat, shutting off your mic, even throwing your headset across the room like a dramatic anime protagonist—but nothing could erase the unholy shame burning inside you.

Your channel. Your secret, your baby, the thing you had kept hidden from Ronin this entire time.

And he found it.

And worse, he was showing everyone.

"You—fucking—I— WHY."

Ronin chuckled, his voice oozing smugness. "What’s wrong, sweetheart? Cat got your tongue?"

"Cat got my—!? YOU—!" You let out the most pitiful wail, genuine tears of mortification well up in your eyes. "You—YOU BULLIED ME. I’M BEING CYBERBULLIED IN REAL TIME."

Angel, being the only one with a heart in this godforsaken hellhole, immediately jumped in. "Aww, Y/N, honey, nooo, don’t cry," she cooed, mothering you instantly.

"HE EXPOSED ME, ANGEL!" you sniffled dramatically, clinging onto your last shred of dignity. "MY SECRET, MY FAME, MY HORROR GAMER LEGACY—RUINED."

Angel patted your metaphorical head. "I know, sweetie, I know. He’s an asshole. A MENACE."

Ronin gasped, placing a hand over his chest in fake offense. "Angel, babe, I’m standing right here."

"GOOD," you sobbed, "Fucking cry about it."

Misaki, of course, was no help. "Pffft—oh my god. I can’t tell if Y/N is actually crying or if this is the funniest breakdown I’ve ever witnessed."

Luca was also losing his mind, barely breathing between wheezes. "Bro, this is actual harassment. Call the cops. Oh wait, you can’t. We're all criminals."

Even Felicite, who was normally the reasonable one, was giggling into her mic. "Y/N, come on, you have to admit—this is hilarious."

"NO, IT’S NOT." you hiccupped, burying your face in your hands. "MY LIFE IS OVER. I CAN’T GO ON."

Angel continued rubbing your back (spiritually, since this was a voice chat). "There, there, sweetheart. Let it all out."

Ronin, meanwhile, was still laughing his ass off, but there was something else in his voice—something genuinely amused.

"Aw, come on, darlin’," he drawled, voice drenched in teasing affection. "You’re acting like I just leaked your government files or some shit."

"YOU MIGHT AS WELL HAVE!"

Another round of laughter erupted in the VC.

"Come on, look at the bright side," Ronin continued, his tone dripping with amusement. "Now I get to witness the absolute insanity you put your poor subscribers through."

Misaki gasped dramatically. "Wait, wait, hold up. You mean to tell me Y/N has been saying this level of bullshit on a public platform for literal years, and we’re just now finding out!?"

Luca snorted. "The fact that people are willingly subscribed to this brand of insanity is crazy to me."

"EXCUSE ME," you snapped, sniffling, gaining the tiniest bit of your spine back. "I have millions of subscribers who adore me, thank you very much. Unlike your asses, they support me."

Ronin grinned. "Oh, I support you, darling. I just like watching you suffer while I do it."

"FUCK YOU, RONIN."

"I mean, yeah, but I feel like this ain’t the time for that convo, sweetheart," he purred.

"I HATE YOU SO MUCH."

Ronin just laughed, the kind of laugh that made your stomach flip because it was so genuinely delighted. Like he was actually having the time of his life messing with you.

"You love me," he said, grinning.

Angel clicked her tongue. "No, Ronin. I love you. Y/N is currently plotting your murder."

You sniffed, still pouting like a kicked puppy. "I hope you fucking stub your toe on every corner you walk past."

Misaki burst out laughing. "OH MY GOD. THEY’RE STILL CURSING HIM OUT."

Ronin, completely unfazed, chuckled. "Mmm. Say that again, sweetheart. But slower."

"I HOPE YOUR KNEE SLAMS INTO EVERY TABLE EDGE IN EXISTENCE, YOU ASS."

Felicite wheezed. "Holy shit."

Luca choked. "Bro—they’re actually unhinged."

V, who had been silent the entire time, finally sighed.

"Are we done?" he asked, in the flattest tone possible.

[hi-i-love-u-bitch]

I have a funny crack headcannon that the first time Shadow truly got his ass beat by Sonic was when he accidentally made Tails cry.

Like Tails is a tough kid and doesn't really cry much in general, and usually when Team Sonic and Shadow are at odds with each other they kinda have a "leave it all behind on the battle field" type of mentality. Because eventually they'll figure everything out by the end and team up to defeat the big bad and yada, yada, yada. The exception to this happened once and everybody involved was traumatizing by it.

Shadow usually aims to take Tails out first because if you take out the brains of the group then everyone else is soon to follow (and lets be honest, Tails is the sole braincell of Team Sonic). On this particular day Tails had been having a bit of a rough week, having decided on a whim to update all his tech and accidentally stayed up for about 3 days straight. Add to the fact that right after they were tossed into whatever shenanigans the universe decided to cook up that week, so even less chance for rest or even a proper meal. So there he was: tired, hungry, cranky, and dealing with whatever emo bullshit Shadow decided was everybody else is problem in that moment. Then Shadow hits him, hard enough to go flying across the field they were fighting in and crash into a nearby tree. It was the usual business, and usually he would get right back up and into battle again. Not this time apparently, because this time his sleep, cranky, 8yr old brain decided that he was at his limit today.

When I tell you the battlefield froze and went dead silent the moment Tails' is tiny, cries pierced the air, I mean it was so still you could hear a nat sneeze. In mere SECONDS, everybody from the opposing team was on the ground because Sonic super sped through them like a god damn freight train before anxiously hovering over his sobbing little brother. Shadow does not think he's ever seen the blue hedgehog so worried before, not when the world was ending, not at the possibility of certain death, not even when he's forced to interact with large bodies of water. Usually, this would be about the time Shadow would tease Sonic for being too soft or getting distracted so easily, but also, he kind of feels a bit bad about it. He's never heard Tails cry before, and it sort of freaked him out because he was suddenly reminded that Tails was, in fact, still just a kid. So yeah, he kinda just kept his mouth shut and laid on the ground with his broken nose as he listened to Sonic and his friends dote and fuss over the crying little fox.

It was over rather quickly, Tails is mewling wails teetering off into wobbly little hiccups as he tried to assure everyone that he was indeed fine. Now a lot calmer the little genius seemed a bit embarrassed about all the fuss he was causing. Yet still Sonic fussed over him a bit more, a corny joke or two tossed in the mix just so he could get a shaky giggle out his fox friend. And it seemed like everything was back to normal again, like Sonic would say one of his usual dorky one liner along with a thumbs up and a wink before charging his team back into battle.

The whiplash Shadow got was both figurative and literal.

One moment he was still lying on the ground contemplating the least awkward way to get back into the swing of things, the next he was being dragged across island at super sonic speed by the neck. When they inevitably crashed it was into the side wall of a mountain right near the outskirts of Green Hill. For all the firsts that Shadow was witnessing today by far the most outlandish (and scariest) was Sonic angry. True pure anger that could out power the chaos emeralds, the look of it burned into Shadow like a hot iron brand as Sonic just started clobbering him. Shadow could usual tank a punch from Sonic, no problem, the guy was built for speed not combat. But that is where the problem lied, though he wasn't as strong as Shadow he could still throw a good punch, now add in speed while being hit repeatedly in the exact same places. Sonic practically dragged Shadow around like a rag-doll, all at a speed that had them flying around Green Hill like a ball in a pinball machine. Shadow couldn't even get hit in himself Sonic was going so fast, he could barely manage to block.

Who knows how long Sonic would have kept going; the morbid thought of Sonic just just punching into Shadow's bloody face until he hit the ground flitted across the dark hedgehog's fuzzy mind. But fortunately for him their teammates were able to catch up to them and separate them. Well, it was more Knuckles and Amy having to forcefully drag Sonic away while Rouge and Omega put themselves as a barricade in front of Shadow just in case the blue manic escaped. Sonic was still absolutely livid, hissing and growling while Amy and Knuckles struggled to keep him pinned to the ground. Tails hurries in a few moments later, landing right in front of his fuming older brother trying to regain his focus away from Shadow. They were in this sort of tentative stalemate for a while, Tails and the rest trying desperately to calm Sonic down while Rouge quietly tends to Shadow's not yet healed wounds and Omega stands guard. Suddenly, it's silent once more and Team Dark looks over to find the once feral hedgehog passed out, with his friends looking relieved and tired. Turns out that Tails couldn't get Sonic to calm down enough to be safe so they decided it was best to sedated him and take him home. Sure they still had a big bad to defeat but they knew nothing would get done once Sonic woke up and saw Shadow again. Rouge assured that Team Dark could handle it on their own once they were all patched up. Knuckles promised to come back in as backup once they got Sonic to Tails' is house. Tails advised Shadow that he should probably avoid Sonic for at least a week just so he can cool down a bit.

Shadow decided that a month was a much safer option.

Everything sort of went back to normal after that; when Sonic woke up he apologized to Tails and his friends for getting so out of control like that. He truly did seem ashamed of himself and looked to be back to his usual chipper attitude. When Shadow showed back up a month later, trying with all his might to act casual and NOT bring up "the incident", everyone seemed happy at his return. Though Sonic seemed to be keeping his distance but Shadow could tell it wasn't due to any sort of guilt or anxiety that Shadow may still be upset with him. But he kept watching Shadow, that bright smile never faltering but also never quite reaching his eyes.

After that, Shadow chose to avoid Tails in combat when he could.

[coirinthyurilo]

Ranting about how Will is SCARY because it's not talked about enough.

First of all. Will canonically has gained respect from the scariest kids in camp. (Clarisse, Percy, Annabeth, Nico, etc.)

He is able to get Nico to stay down for once. The GHOST KING. THE SON OF HADES. ONE OF THE MOST FEARED AT CAMP? To stand down? At his word? He has Nico on a fucking leash—

He SCOLDS him after the battle ended or whatever— telling him all the "friendly face" bunch. Speaks to him like he would for a patient. Because he sees Nico as a patient.

How do you even do that? Even his brotherly figure (*ahem* Jason.) is intimidated by the guy.

He couldn't even get him to atleast stop overusing his powers or whatever he's doing and Will just waltzs in and bans him from using underworldly magic. If that doesn't take guts to walk up to the scariest guy at camp and say "Hey. No more shadow shit and get the hell into the infirmary."

??????

Will is genuinely fucking scary when angry at some point. Cause I can guarantee you if you're extremely afraid of Nico when he's angry? Wait till you see him sprint out the fucking room when Will comes marching in like raging tyrant, you'd be scared shitless.

He's a doctor?? Of COURSE he's going to be scary. I genuinely think he doesn't get angry very easily. Very patient considering he's a doctor and having to deal with bajillion kids coming into the infirmary everyday takes every single fiber of your being not to crash out then and there.

So if he's angry. Fucking run for your LIFE because the son of Hades already is.

Idk but Will not being scary is genuinely an understatement or just a down play of his character he CAN be scary.

He just chooses not be because you need to be welcoming for others to be safe near you.

Him being scary is just not talked about enough.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Hey Polaris, hope this helps as a vent piece:

Anger is one of the main traits of demons. Everyone's anger has manifested outward at least some point yet, one person keeps it under Heavy lock and key, Dante.

One day, the anger manifests in its destructive, gruesome and targeted anger in his Sin Devil Trigger as it manifests when that last patient strand snaps.

So here's the prompt:

As Reader wakes up from a hard hit, once fully back to full consciousness, they witness that destructive rage that Dante kept under lock and key. Nearby, Vergil is protectively standing in front of Reader but something's wrong, his hands quivering as he keeps Yamato out in front of him. The real question now pops into Reader's head, how do you calm to a blazing inferno that's unrestrained and now in full swing?

Dante going on a full Sin Devil Trigger rampage (or, very angry Dante)

Pairing: Dante x Reader

Summary: Vergil wasn't one to fear easily - but one thing he would always dread to see; and that would be Dante losing his humanity.

Trigger Warning: Reader stops breathing and is seemingly dead for a while. Lots of blood, lots of anger, lots of self-loathing on this one (they all need therapy)

Author's Note: Oh boy, this was a conversation I was having with dear Fury: how Dante is 10/10 the scariest when he's mad because he keeps his demon on a leash *cough* Subhuman *cough* and he's the one everyone should fear when going berserk, not Vergil. With all the requests I'm having, currently, Fury decided to leave this suggestion out until I had a little more time to write...

Fast forward a few weeks, I'm having issues with a couple of ~friends~ and, honestly, I haven't been this angry in years. To the point of trembling, laughing like a maniac, and wanting to fistfight the gods. Hence, Fury sent me this vent piece so I could satisfy my wrath in a more ~healthy~ way. Hope you guys like it, though, Dante needs a big ol' hug and someone to openly cry too, not just Vergil.

Again, they all need therapy

Not many things could stir fear in Vergil’s heart.

Mundus’ voice, silently taunting him in the back of his head, the memory of everything he had been through in Hell was one of those things. The other one was his twin’s fury.

It was a rare thing for him to grip Yamato with an unsteady pair of hands, putting a lot of effort and strength for them not to tremble – but the sight of Dante completely lost in his bloodlust was not to be trifled with.

The first time Vergil saw it with his own eyes was in Hell, when he and his brother spent a considerable amount of time to cut down the Qliphoth. Vergil was used to the taunts of demons and Dante was as well… Or at least he should be, at that point in their lives.

But the taunts were many. They had been running through the fields of fire without sleep for a couple of days – in the human world, probably, as time had a different flow in Hell – killing everything in sight; and hearing every kind of putrid taunt they could.

What made Dante snap, though, was a simple implication: that it was Dante’s fault that Vergil fell and got subdued by Mundus, suffering endless nightmares for years to come. A strange glint sparked in Dante’s eyes at that moment. The scream that rumbled in his chest was enough to be heard through many layers of Hell.

It wasn’t Dante’s fault, Vergil knew that very well. He had refused to hold his brother’s hand, there was nothing Dante could have done. It was Vergil’s choice, and his sin only. But… For the first time, he saw how much his brother blamed himself for that. How much Dante had suffered, all those years, alone in the human world.

As above, so below… Dante suffered alongside Vergil all those years.

And all of that because of a stupid, childish decision from Vergil’s part. He observed Dante in shock as that realization came down on him – and as he watched the prized human heart of his twin brother seemingly disappear, giving place to a blind, bloodthirsty demon in full Sin Devil Trigger fashion, killing everything in his path.

Vergil stayed away from the destruction, always keeping an eye on his brother… If he could call him that. Dante – the foolish, laidback, talkative, jack of all trades, witty and quippy brother he knew – seemingly was nowhere to be seen. He was gone, and everything left was his demon, with a never-ending thirst for blood.

Not that Vergil hadn’t had moments like those, but he was always alone. He would always find the end of his rage on the floor, exhausted, weak and cold. And so, he waited for Dante’s wrath to wear off – patiently, observing with a heavy heart, sorrow and guilt.

He didn’t enjoy seeing his brother like that.

That was the reason why, when Nico put to vote who was the scariest when angry, you threw your vote at Dante. You and the rest of the crew, except for the Spardas, decided to have a night out at a local diner, just to wind down and have a bit of fun – that sort of talk was a given when you were together.

“Dante, really?” Lady raised one of her eyebrows, staring at you with nothing but doubt in her multicolored eyes. “He can’t hurt even a fly!” When she said that, though, all of the eyes of the group turned at her in disbelief. “Don’t get me wrong, I’ve been hunting with him for a while. Dante can be a weapon of mass destruction, but he just… He doesn’t have that heart.”

“Hmmm… I think I have to agree with you on that one.” Trish slowly stirred her chocolate milkshake as Lady thanked with a sip of her vanilla one. “Look, I saw him killing Mundus. I saw Dante fighting the greatest and worst of Hell. He can be dangerous, but his human heart doesn’t let him be scary.”

“That is exactly my point.” You were ready to defend your thesis like a lawyer at court.

“Then why the hell would you vote for him as the scariest?” Nico didn’t have a cigarette on her hands because she had been forbidden to smoke inside the diner, but if she had, she would have been pointing at you with it. “Big flamin’ demon got nothin’ on Vergil, that one’s got the eyes of a killer. Got you chillin’ just by lookin’ at you.”

“Vergil doesn’t control his anger that much – I go as far as saying he doesn’t control himself as much as Dante.” And with those words, you won all the shocked looks you could at that evening. You would count that as a feat. “Is Dante a fool of a Tûk, as my dear Gandalf would say? Yes, he is. Is Vergil a walking death omen? Yes, he also is. But, I have talked to him about Dante being angry, and Vergil gave me enough hints to make it very clear Dante doesn’t let all his feelings out – he chooses to pass as a very aloof himbo of a man, but he is far from that. I’ve been his partner for enough time to say I agree with Vergil.”

“You might have a point.” Kyrie took a sip of her strawberry milkshake, as you let a triumphant smile take over your lips. “Dante might be playful, but we all know he has very deep emotions underneath that. It’s just like with Nero and his punk attitude.”

“But instead, he’s a cinnamon bun on the inside.” Nico topped Kyrie’s phrase, provoking some laughs on the group. That was the most accurate description of Nero if you had ever seen one.

“Dante loves his human heart, but he has a certain beef with his demonic one.” You wouldn’t say to the whole group you went as far as to believe he actually loathed his demonic heritage, as that was something too personal, but you had a hunch they all had some suspicions of that deep inside. “He keeps it in check, hidden, tamed. He lashes out when it’s a good time to do so – when fighting demons.” As you started getting some hums of agreement, you sneakily took Trish’s milkshake. “We have never seen Dante actually angry. And I don’t think we ever will.”

“Oh, now you’re makin’ it difficult.” Nico had to ponder those words, even if she couldn’t really see Dante being as dangerous as you said.

“Eh, not for me. I’m still going with Vergil.” Lady shrugged, firm on her opinion as always.

You took a little longer to get to the final vote – discussing what you had just said, as Trish called you out for stealing her milkshake and having it back, only to share it with you – but the answer was almost unanimous: the scariest one on a fit of wrath was Vergil.

Almost, because you kept adamant in voting on your red devil.

Vergil never came to know about all of that, but if he did, he would have agreed with you – not publicly, as he would hold his new title with pride, always content on inspiring fear as a way to keep himself and his loved ones protected. He would, however, agree with you privately, remembering Dante’s display of wrath in Hell.

That was the reason why his hands trembled on Yamato during your latest hunt together – the one where everything went wrong.

If only you would wake up. Maybe he could save Dante’s soul.

It all happened so fast, Vergil didn’t even see how things ended the way they were at the moment. On one second you were fighting by their side, on the other, you were tossed on the floor, soaked in your own blood, chest immobile. Not breathing.

“Y/n! No, y/n!” It was the very first time Vergil saw Dante dropping everything to run towards you. His brother let go of his sword, ignored all demons around and ran as if you were the only being in that godforsaken place. Vergil had to put himself between him and the demons, keeping them at bay as Dante quickly made his way to you. “Y/n! C’mon, babe! Y/n!”

Dante’s knees hit the floor with a loud thud as he dropped all his weight by your side – not feeling anything at the moment, but it would certainly leave a couple of horrid bruises. As his sky-blue eyes met that harrowing sight, desolation filled his face; Dante forgot how to breath for a split second, barely feeling his very own hands, legs tingling as his body seemed to sink in the ground even further.

Vergil stated the very same thing his brother did – and he never thought he could feel that way with the thought of losing you; but there was Vergil, with numbness on his fingers and a sickness in his stomach. You were the little light that Dante had found in his life, one of the only good things that had happened to him during all his damned years of living. Vergil knew how important you were, how only you could make Dante smile with a sincerity he only had seen when they were kids. What would be of his brother – his foolish, stupid, beloved brother – if he lost you to demons as well…?

The answer would come very soon, but not without a fight from Dante’s side.

“C’mon, y/n, open your eyes…!” Dante’s voice trembled, in a way Vergil had never listened to before. He watched as his twin brother desperately tried to bring you back, heavy hands massaging your chest, followed by breathing inside your mouth, and repeating once more. “C’mon, babe… Don’t leave me here…!” Those words were a whisper as he trembled trying to make your heart beat again, giving his breath to you once more so you could also breathe.

The realization washed Dante’s body as a cold wave, as he slowly felt he wasn’t in his body anymore – his body feeling your weight on his hands, but his soul completely out. Maybe flying away to meet yours wherever you were.

But then, a twisted symphony of distorted cackles and mockery ripped through his ears – the realization also came to the demons, and now they gloated with their first victory. Not only that, but humiliated the son of Sparda for losing his own beloved just like his father had lost Eva.

Vergil was ready to unsheathe Yamato and unleash all his fury to cut those demons in million pieces for that lack of respect – and to allow his brother to mourn properly. He himself had to mourn: you were too precious at the Devil May Cry for Vergil not to feel your loss.

But he wouldn’t need that. A deep growl grabbed the Dark Slayer’s attention, making him immediately turn to his brother. Dante got up from the floor with nothing but rage in his eyes bleeding tears, bare teeth as his demonic heritage boiled to rip through his skin and unleash all its fury on his enemies.

If only Dante had waited a single second, he would have realized what Vergil did. He would have heard a faint heartbeat – trembling, but fighting to survive. He would have seen your broken body trying to breath underneath the blood.

Dante killed the first demons with their own weapons, running towards his sword with a scream that only grew in strength. Vergil kneeled by your side, checking your pulse on your neck, staining his hands with your blood but stating what made his heart beat faster: you weren’t lost. Dante had to know.

The floor rumbled. As Vergil turned his attention towards Dante, he immediately turned back to you to protect you with his body. Dante’s scream thundered through the floor, as if it came from the deepest pits of Hell itself – and a thousand degrees exploded in sparks and molten lava as his Sin Devil Trigger took the place of the man who stood there before.

Vergil was used to the flames of Hell, they would not hurt him. But he wasn’t used to the wrath of his brother – and that might be something none of you would be able to recover. Vergil could take the heat of the explosion that took down many demons in its wake, but your human body couldn’t – and that was the reason why he had to do everything in his power to protect you.

Those silvery eyes turned back at Dante, still keeping a protective arm above you. Usually predatorial, now Vergil had nothing but worry in his gaze, watching with desolation as his brother became the bloodthirsty ruthless demon he never was.

In that state, Dante could make mistakes. He could hit you without even realizing. A misplaced use of his power, a wrong swing of his blade, another explosion of million degrees into hellish flames… Vergil could survive, not you. And, if Dante, who hadn’t realized yet you weren’t lost as he thought you were, ended up being the real reason of your demise…

Vergil didn’t even want to think what would happen.

For all he could see at that moment was a demon fiercely fighting other demons – or, better yet, easily subduing and mercilessly slaughtering all of them. And that was something that was so intrinsic to Dante’s heart: his mercy. Having Dante without his mercy, his kindness, his gentleness, his love, was the same as not having him at all… That was the source of his power, like rage was the source of Vergil’s power.

Watching his brother lost in wrath was heart wrenching, but knowing it could get even worse if he was to completely lose his soul was even more harrowing. Dante’s eyes bled his pain, even in that form, as he soaked his whole self in the viscous blood of his enemies – a monster beyond salvation, a creature without a soul, a lover without a heart. A man with his fragile hope crashed into pieces, abandoning everything that made him who he was, to allow himself to find some comfort through burning his own wrath.

For the first time, it downed on Vergil his brother might not come back. If he lost you, if Dante fatally wounded you, Vergil would never have him again – for Dante would lose the very last brink of humanity inside of him; a brink that Vergil couldn’t even see at that moment and didn’t even know if it was still there. Dante’s eyes were red, his growls distorted and animalistic, his power… Greater than Mundus, greater than even Sparda.

If Dante approached, Vergil would have to fight him. His brother wasn’t in a leveled state of mind to see logic – and he could hurt you, even if Dante would never do that. With all that blind wrath, though, Vergil didn’t even know if his brother would answer if he called.

Holding Yamato with a stronger grip than usual, Vergil stood in front of your body, guarding you from whatever harm that could come your way – be it in demon form… Or in his own twin brother form.

The cold hand of fear, though, slowly crept into his heart and held it on its stark clutches. Yes, Vergil spent his whole life sparring with that fool he had to call his brother – hearing Dante’s taunts and impossible physics, as if he didn’t even make an effort to make Vergil look like a complete buffoon during the fight, no matter how much technique and skill he had – but never Vergil imagined not having that.

Having Dante was a given. Fighting him was a given. Bantering, arguing, sparring, behaving like the bickering old set of twin brothers that they were. Vergil could say he wanted to defeat Dante, but he never wanted to get rid of him. What would his life be without his stupid brother?

Empty. Silent. Cold. Devoid of color.

Dante couldn’t go. And, most of all, he couldn’t go by Vergil’s hands. But if he was too much of a lose canon, if he was too far gone in his demonic frenzy, Vergil would have to put a stop to it…

Like Dante did with him as Nelo Angelo so many years before.

Vergil had to hold the cry that seemed to want to force its way out of his throat – holding back the tears that now glistened in his eyes. He was the most foolish of all… He was responsible for putting Dante on the same situation he found himself in at the moment – and just now he understood how harrowing, how painful and how much of a hell Dante had to go through.

Alone. Just like Vergil was alone in Hell – as above so below, the twins mirroring each other’s fates, on their realms and heritage of preference.

They weren’t so different after all.

As you started to hear the chaos around you once again, your head was spinning viciously and the pain that spread inside your lungs made you think you were going to explode. With an almost inaudible moan, you felt tears streaming down your eyes as you tried to open them, seemingly inhaling blood and pain every time you tried to breathe. You could feel you were covered in something wet and sometimes sticky, but it took some time for you to raise a trembling hand in front of your barely focusing eyes to realize it was blood.

Were you dead…? What had happened…? You could barely remember. You didn’t even know what hit you: suddenly everything turned black and now you were feeling like a bulldozer went over your body and somehow you managed to survive. Perhaps you didn’t, but if you were dead, you wouldn’t be feeling that much pain… At least, that was what people always said that happened after departing from the human world.

Plus, you could still hear the demons – but now, screaming in fear and trying to run away from something that was growling in such an inhuman tone, you wondered if you guys had accidentally summoned something bigger. By the noise, it had to be. The likes of Mundus and the other Kings of Hell – Vergil being the smallest of them, but still as deadly.

Perhaps it was Vergil…? To be fair, though, he never went all out without a really good reason. Maybe he thought you were dead? He appreciated you as much as a brother would appreciate his twin’s partner, but you didn’t expect him to have such a visceral reaction to your death; Unless…

You widened your eyes as your whole body seemed to be washed by a cold wave followed by a lightening that made you tingle from head to toes. Your heart sunk in your chest and the painful breaths you tried before were all but gone. Vergil would have a visceral reaction if he lost his brother. And that, you couldn’t even fathom: life without Dante didn’t exist… Or, at least, it would be something you wouldn’t want to go through.

You forced your body up, slowly turning to one side and barely using your arm to keep your weight as you tried to see what was going on. You had to find him, you had to find Dante. You would crawl to his body, you would shake him around as you could, you would give him your breath, you would give him your soul – but you would try everything to bring him back. You would hold him as tight as you could, you would cry over him, and there wouldn’t be a living or dead thing in this world that would be able to part you from him.

You widened your eyes once more when you saw Vergil keeping your body as a guardian warrior and the source of the chaos and destruction was your beloved red devil – lost in a frenzy, dripping with blood, eyes melting like lava and nothing of human in them.

You had never seen Dante like that.

“Verge…” You tried to cough the word out, but it was nothing more than a dying whisper. You couldn’t see how the blue devil furrowed his brows, thinking he might be hearing things – until you allowed a harsher breath to hurt your lungs so you could try to raise your trembling voice higher. “Vergil…!”

He turned his head enough to see you in the corner of his eyes – doing his best to still keep Dante in his sight. A wave of euphoria washed through Vergil’s body as his hands seemed to get steadier around Yamato: he was right, you were alive. As the fighter you were, the survivor you were… You were breathing and doing your best to get back on your feet again.

“Y/n…” But he couldn’t even talk: the floor rumbled again and Vergil knew what was coming. You placed your hands on the ground, widening your eyes and furrowing your brows, having never felt that before.

For a split second, you caught a glimpse of what was going on: Dante harnessing his power, ready to explode. You had never saw that. You had never saw his eyes devoid of his humanity. You had never seen your Dante as a complete demon like it was happening at that moment.

And, something that you had never been conscious to witness, Vergil threw himself over you to protect your body from his brother’s wrath. You had to cower behind his frame, gripping Vergil’s coat lapel for dear life, but still feeling the burning of a thousand degrees engulf you.

The blue devil didn’t even waver – but both of you had something in your eyes… The dread of the harrowing knowledge that that was Dante. All that destruction, that chaos, that blood… It was all Dante.

You were right, after all. His rage was the scariest to see.

“I need t-…” Your voice was raspy, having to stop mid phrase to cough some more blood that needed to come out of your lungs. “I need to talk to him.” You tried to take a deep breath, but once again it just stopped with a harsh sting on your chest. “He needs to know I’m alive.”

“Hmmm.” Vergil agreed with his head, but you knew he was still pondering what you had said. He helped you up on your feet – doing more of the work than you, easily lifting your body with his strength. “Dante isn’t himself at the moment…” Again, Vergil stood in front of you like a guardian, gripping the Yamato with both hands as soon as he saw you could stand by yourself. If you faltered, though, he was quick enough to hold you. “You must keep that in mind.”

“I know… And I am scared.” You answered in a whisper, looking over Vergil’s shoulder only to see Dante mercilessly slaughtering the last unlucky demons. “But it’s still Dante.”

Vergil didn’t know what to do, if he was being honest with himself. He could have held you back and kept you safe, as his demonic side told him to do, but something inside told him he should let you do what you had to do. Those silvery eyes watched as you bravely walked in haste towards danger; towards hell and doom, ready to embrace it… And willing to make it stop.

“Dante! Dante, love!” You kept calling, but, as Vergil feared before, his brother didn’t respond. He was too far gone, too lost in Hell to come back that easily. Vergil followed your steps slowly, lingering like a shadow behind you… Ready to do whatever he needed to do if Dante’s demon didn’t even recognize you in that blind rage. “Dante! You can stop now… Dante!”

With all the filthy bloody corpses piling up on the floor, that flaming red-hot demonic figure slowly turned its head towards you. Covered in blood, sword dripping with red, molten lava eyes raining all its hollow pain. Expressionless, as he always was on his Sin Devil Trigger, made of fire and coal, hate and rage.

Did he recognize you…? Did he understand what was going on…? Vergil’s grip on Yamato got stronger, ready to unleash a blow on his brother in order to protect you. What you were doing was a gamble – and one with not so nice odds to you. There was a reason why Vergil let Dante’s anger wear out when they were in Hell: he knew there was a good chance Dante wouldn’t even recognize him at the height of his wrath, just like it happened with Vergil on those situations. So, to say the moment at hand was dangerous was a serious understatement.

But humans would always be fascinating, wouldn’t they…? At least, that was what Vergil thought. That towering demon with a flaming chest and leathery wings turned towards you, carrying his huge sword dripping with demonic blood, doing nothing but heavy breathing – and you decided to fearlessly walk towards it.

Humans.

Vergil kept his distance, watching it all unfolding with a weary heart and a trigger hand at ready to fight his brother – to death, if he unfortunately needed to – in order to protect you. He couldn’t have the certainty you had, as your steps kept going in Dante’s direction.

Your legs were shaking, your knees were trembling, but… It was your lover. It was Dante. No matter how much he was lost into his frenzy and wrath, you had to believe his heart would remember you. His soul. It all happened because he thought he had lost you, he had to come back upon knowing you were alright.

It didn’t matter how horrid his wrath looked like, you knew he was in there somewhere.

“Dante… It’s me, I’m alright…” Your voice was still a whisper, unable to speak too loud, but also trying to soothe the anger in his heart. You hesitantly reached out to him, making a growl rumble inside his chest and your steps stop for a while – with Vergil half-unsheathing his sword, ready to fight. “Love…” You called again, breathing as deeply as you could, resuming your walking and extending your hand towards him. “My Dante…”

You were finally at arm’s reach. Vergil held his breath, eyebrows furrowed, silvery predator eyes fixated on what was supposed to be his brother. You raised your hand higher, resting it on Dante’s face.

His Sin Devil Trigger form was nothing but rough. His skin seemed like hard leather and rocky coal, burning so hot it could almost hurt your hand. You wouldn’t back down though: compared to him, you were soft and cold, too fragile and breakable; but you wouldn’t leave. You caressed his rough face, fingers feeling the sharp teeth, the spiky crevices, the unwelcoming features of a face made in Hell.

You felt, though, an unlikely moisture reaching your fingers: a droplet, running from those fiery, empty eyes – those inhuman eyes. You looked at it running through your fingers to the back of your hand, looking back into those frightening eyes that had nothing of a soul in them…

But he was there, wasn’t he? It was him, a part of him that Dante always fought so relentlessly to keep hidden, to keep on a tight leash in the deepest corner of his self. You could see Dante in those eyes – and, as soon as that realization washed through the demon’s body, his head leaned into your hand.

With a flaming spark, the red devil was gone and you had the man back: tired, desolated, falling apart. Dante still leaned his head into your hand – now with soft skin, smooth lips, closed eyes and flowy white hair – almost like an animal that had never been touched with kindness in a whole lifetime. As he opened his eyes, you could see the redness of his tears crowning those sky-blue tones you always loved so much… And there was nothing but fragile vulnerable humanity in them.

“Hi, cowboy…” You whispered with a shadow of a smile on your lips, while your very eyes poured tears – you didn’t know what kind of tears, though, if of happiness, sadness, desperation, pity or love. Maybe all of them at the same time: it was inherently human to feel more than words could describe. You caressed his face as Dante himself started to pour all of his feelings out – this time, not in a fit of rage. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“I thought I lost you.” His coarse voice came through as if Dante had been weeks without speaking and his very own vocal cords were barely working. You didn’t doubt his body would be in pain after all he had been through during… That. “I thought… You were gone. I’d never see you again, you were… Like… Like…” Dante closed his eyes again, head hanging low. He could barely breathe as the words fought to get out of his chest and stop suffocating him. His tears hitting the floor while you took his hair out of the way so you could see his face – there was nothing but pain; a pain that hadn’t been healed since he was a child. “Like everyone in my damned fuckin’ life; those things… I thought they had extinguished… Your light, like everyone… Like everyone eventually does… By my side…”

That was rare. Very rare. Dante was very honest with his feelings and usually didn’t hide anything from you, but not to that point – the point where he would honestly and openly say how much he thought he was the thing that doomed everyone else who decided to live with him or be friends with him. That loathing he had inside his heart, that he hid so carefully, it wasn’t something he would say out loud – it was something you knew because you always understood him so well.

You let go of his hair and locked your arms around his large frame, resting your head on his chest – you could hear his heart beating, his human heart. Dante hesitated for the very first time in his life, keeping his arms by your side for a split second, his teary eyes shocked with your reaction.

After all, you had just seen his absolute worst. All the things he always smothered so much inside himself, keeping them on check, always so controlled. You had seen it in all its spiteful and horrid glory – and your reaction was to embrace him instead of running away. Dante expected you to run, it would honestly be the logic and most human thing to do after seeing all of that.

But you walked towards him with your heart beating in fear, touching his face to grab him out of the pit of wrath he was buried into, holding him tightly in your arms as he broke down in all his anger, misery, trauma and self-loathing.

It lasted a split of a second indeed – for soon Dante’s strong arms were wrapped around your fragile body, keeping you close and safe from harm… As well as having his face buried on your neck, crying all that smothered pain inside of his heart out. Your bodies were too exhausted to keep standing for too long – so when your knees wavered, Dante did the same and you kneeled on the floor, never letting go of each other; Dante holding you as tight as he could, promising himself he would never let go.

Vergil could finally put Yamato to rest. When they were in Hell, he allowed his brother’s rage to wear off while observing from afar. This time, he could do the same: guarding you and quietly keeping you both safe and sound.

A sad ghost of a smile graced the Dark Slayer’s lips as he calmly observed you. Maybe his brother was right after all, and he could only wish someday he would be as strong as Dante to carry such power.

A human heart.

[vintageunknown]

It is so interesting that Louis uses Armand's supposed birth name during the bench scene.

Naming is such a significant part of Armand's life, moreso than any character. His maker named him Amadeo, the cult named him Armand and his birth parents probably named him Arun. Unlike Louis and Lestat and all the other vampires we've seen, Armand's identity pre-vampirism is not concrete. His human life was marked by trauma and memory loss and even parts of his undead life. He tells Louis his story through 3rd person, as if regaling someone else's tale.

His identity is a fluid thing decided by whatever structure he finds himself in, hence the different names he is given at different stages. He portrays himself as someone who is seemingly powerless despite his ancient aura and terrifying powers.

"Who am I?" he asks Louis in the museum. His great comfort is by sticking to the Great Laws which he does not believe in and rituals he does not care about because they offer a comforting routine he can cling to. That is why he easily breaks his own rules when it comes to Louis, because their romance offers him another purpose.

When Louis asserts his presence in Paris, he tells Armand to let go of the coven. Once Santiago runs it to the ground, then Armand can return and decide if he wants to be coven leader or not.

Louis offers him something different: choice. No one ever gave Armand a choice. Everything that ever happens to him as been someone else deciding for him. This is new territory because the concept of free will is so unique to Armand. Even Lestat's shake-up was not a choice, but more of a coup—Armand knew Lestat breaking up the coven was inevitable the moment they met.

By calling him Arun, Louis shows Armand he is acknowledging the vulnerability offered to him. He's telling Armand that whoever you are, I will accept, even the most fragile and scariest pieces you hide from everyone else. And Armand says "Yes, Maitre," because for once, someone is really teaching him how to live. Not forcing or commanding, but teaching.