#and that's where the reader's 'I can see beyond your glimmer and I don't fear the dark' comes from

[polarisbibliotheque]

Can You Hear The Rumble? - Vergil x Reader

Music Inspired Fics (Devil May Music) - Cirice, by Ghost

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: Everyone knew the kind of demon a hunter should be wary about is the one who plays with their victim's minds. You and Vergil were very proud on the outside - but how would it be when having to save each other on the inside for the first time?

TRIGGER WARNING: A lot of blood, cuts, bruises, scars and suffering on both Vergil and the reader's sides. The reader also struggles with perfection and self-loathing - in a "I'm never going to be a good person" kind of way, because I needed to get more intimate on the reader's part as well - and there are scenes with the reader covered in cuts and bleeding, though not self-imposed, it could be read like that. Those scenes are the reader's and Vergil's internal images of themselves. Reader and Vergil meet each other on their imperfections and the darkest parts of their souls, so BE WARNED. This might not be everyone's cup of tea and there are lots of potential triggers.

Author's Note: @tokkis-shelf asked me if Vergil's part of the Halloween special was inspired by Cirice, and here we are now. It is what kickstarted the song-fic requests! As with a lot of people, I think, Cirice is pretty personal to me.

In the video, it was so comforting to me seeing the black sheep being represented hahahaha and I guess that's why people love it so much. The part where they hold hands? I died, I'd never let go, I cry my soul out upon watching. (I did a very similar drawing to that scene when I was in school around 15 years ago, so it drop-kicked me out of my body xD)

Now, when writing this, I kept in mind that this song has a double meaning and can be quite comforting and quite manipulative at the same time - hence why I use the "can't you see that you're lost without me?" in two different situations, 'cause I think Cirice can be interpreted in so many ways and each person takes what they need from this song. I hope you guys like it!!

Plus, the song the reader and Dante sing at the end is The Power of Love, by Huey Lewis and The News

Cirice, by Ghost

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

It happened every time Vergil walked in the darkness.

That voice in the back of his head, silently taunting him, the hiss of a quiet viper in the hopes of taking him back to the darkest parts of his soul. Quiet, lurking, whispering… Mundus always there, somewhere in the folds of his consciousness, guiding him back into the void – luring Vergil back into his shackles.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost without me?”

As if Vergil couldn’t belong anywhere else, as if his place was in Hell. After all he had been through, after all the sins he perpetrated, he believed wholeheartedly there was no hope for him at all – only a fool’s hope; only a glimmer of a wish he wasn’t as tainted as he was… A desire to not be such a monster as he was.

Pacing quietly through the empty cathedral, Vergil had already learned not to give in to those thoughts – to keep them at bay, as only a whisper in the darkness, of trickster voices that would always remind him of how inhuman he was.

It was times like this Vergil longed for the faint glimmer of the moon, or the warm ghostly light of a candle. It was easy to get lost in the dark, but a single ray of light could help through the direst of situations. That night, though, it seemed like the moon had fallen asleep behind the curtains of the clouds – Selene hiding her tears for her earthly lover in his eternal sleep.

None of you knew what that night entailed – you weren’t even certain what you were dealing with. That was the reason why Lady strutted in the Devil May Cry, not too fond of taking a job she didn’t know if it was up to her abilities.

“Well, looks like I have a new one for you to pay your debt, big guy!” Her singsong voice interrupted the ambience of the jukebox; Lady entering the shop with Kalina Ann and all.

“Eh, I’m never gonna be free of my debt, Lady, let’s be honest.” Dante sighed, putting his feet down and throwing his magazine across the table, shooting her a serious glare. “But things have been borin’ lately, so one of your odd jobs’ not gonna hurt. Whaddya have for me?”

“You talk as if I never help you enough to maintain this place.” She lifted one eyebrow, approaching the big desk at the middle of the shop.

“Gotta give the woman credit, Dante. Last month’s bills were on her.” You shrugged as you had finally come out of your shower, happy to see Lady around, still drying your hair with the towel as you went down the stairs.

“See? Someone who has a bit of common sense.” Her smile was nothing short of devilish as she gestured towards you.

“You know where you are, Lady. ‘Common sense’ isn’t much of a thing in this household.” You greeted her by quickly blowing her a kiss while passing by, making your way towards the couch where Vergil was quietly reading.

“Ey, you’re hurtin’ my feelings like that.” Dante put one of his hands over his heart, laughing alongside you as you kept on your way. “But fine. I’ll give ya that, Lady. So, what’s up? What job do you wanna throw at me this time?”

“I am not throwing it at you.” And there it was: you could always see when Dante stroke a nerve when Lady got defensive and with that fiery stare on her multicolored eyes. “If you wanna do it, great, if you don’t, I can deal with it myself just fine. I’m here to be a good friend since you can barely afford all that pizza you keep stuffing yourself with!”

As you sat by Vergil’s side, you both exchanged a telling glare. Just like you, Vergil was used to observing people. Granted, he didn’t know Lady as much as Dante or even you, but he did know her since he was very young. That fiery, easy-to-anger personality had been there since they first met at the Temen-ni-gru – and Vergil argued it was one of Lady’s traits that would never change.

Something he was quite pleased with, if he had to be honest with himself. It was a good trait for a human demon hunter like her. Dante always praised human’s hearts and particularly their love and empathy – Vergil praised their burning anger that made them unconquerable in the direst of circumstances.

“Jeez, alright, alright, don��t shoot me!” Dante raised his hands as if he was at gunpoint, making you wheeze quietly. Vergil side-eyed you for a while – half judging, half holding his own laugh. “It’s not like I have much of a choice, do I?”

“Humpf.” Lady rolled her eyes and took a slice of pizza from the box resting on the desk, pointing at Dante with it right after. “You know I wouldn’t bring you something if it wasn’t important.”

“Actually, you would.” With those words, Dante rested his arms crossed on the table – all the while, you and Vergil watched it all as if it was a show. Who needed a TV when you had those two? “But you’re bein’ too dodgy ‘bout it, babe. What’s goin’ on?”

“I got a call from a priest in a city nearby.” Lady’s answer was uncharacteristically quiet, followed by a bite from the pizza while she seemed pensive and in any hurry to chew it. “I’ve done some jobs there, know the guy, he’s nice. All the times he called me, it was always a quick, good-paying job. He said some weird things have been happening at the cathedral for the last couple of weeks.”

“Not to sound mean, but there’s always somethin’ strange happenin’ at churches.” Dante’s eyes carried a bit of skepticism: ‘weird things’ didn’t always entail a job for the Devil May Cry – and it usually ended with all of you hunting a rogue raccoon or something.

“I know. But this guy, he doesn’t get scared easy, ok? He’s one of those types of priests who’ll try to shoot down a couple of demons with a shotgun and, if that doesn’t work, he gives me a call.” Those words, though, made you and the Spardas raise your eyebrows. Indeed, it was a rare type of priest, but a good one to keep as acquaintance. “He said the cathedral is increasingly quiet, even from noises outside, with occasional distant noises that are not done by any of those who live there. After it all started, the other priests reported having weird nightmares, of being chased by something in the dark, inside the cathedral – this thing whispering things they can’t understand. Alright if it happened to one or two, but soon all of them started waking up in the middle of the night with similar nightmares – and, catch this, the higher ups of the clergy didn’t tell the common priests about it, but they all reported the very same dream.” Those words caught everyone’s attention. Vergil finally closed his book and leaned forward, paying attention to Lady’s retelling of the priest’s misfortunes. “The priest has been trying to figure out what’s going on, but some old books appear to go missing from the library, only to re-appear as if nothing has happened. Some books are missing pages, something that never happened before. He also said the inside of the cathedral has been getting darker and darker as the weeks go by. As if something is approaching – his words, not mine.”

Vergil immediately furrowed his brows and seemed to turn into an ice sculpture right by your side. You risked a glance, finding him with his usual dark aura – pensive, somber and quiet; hunter’s eyes showing themselves in a matter of seconds.

“Rare are the creatures in Hell in search for knowledge…” He muttered loud enough for his brother and Lady to turn their attention to him. “But those who do, are usually among the worst. Haunting noises, torn books, nightmares, dead silence and total darkness…”

“What? You think those Hell Piranhas came out of their pit?” Dante’s question had a bit of fun in the words, but his eyes were serious and he didn’t allow his lips to smile.

“Could be. Could also be a demon trying to mimic them to hide something else.”

“Hell Piranhas?” You and Lady didn’t need a cue to ask at the very same time. Neither of you had ever heard of that – and both of you had heard of a lot.

“This is not their name, but it is how Dante calls them since we were kids.” Vergil almost sighed in response.

“How we both called ‘em. Mister smart-pants over here isn’t that much better than lil’ ol’ me.” Dante winked at both of you, making you giggle quietly in return. “They’re kinda like illusion demons, but they like stayin’ in the darkness and gatherin’ knowledge. Usually work for someone bigger, though.”

“And even if they don’t, they swallow up all their knowledge and that is dangerous in itself. Afterwards, they feed from the victims they have been toying for so long.” Vergil continued Dante’s thought, ignoring his brother’s previous words. The more you didn’t think about what Dante had said about him, the better – for Vergil couldn’t deny it. “They hunt in packs, and the more victims, the more powerful they become. Some call them the Pit Deceivers, others call them the Lie Weavers…”

“You call them Hell Piranhas.” You concluded bluntly, making Vergil stare at the horizon with emptiness in his eyes – he could say all he wanted, flex all his demonic knowledge, you heard the Piranhas and now you’d never forget it.

“I never heard of them.” Lady had her eyebrows furrowed, searching her memory for some story like that.

“They either don’t leave the pit that much or not many humans survive to tell the story. That’s why.” Dante pointed at a great, old book Vergil had left on one of the tables a long time ago and now it was its official resting place. “You can find it only in the likes of the Codex Daemonica.”

“So either we have them around, or it’s something else. Something bigger. Right?” As you asked, Vergil only agreed with his head as the attentions turned to you. “Or something mimicking the Piranhas.” And Vergil had to sigh at your addition. He would never have peace again. “The mimic or the master, what kind of demon would the Piranhas answer to? If they are that obscure, I take it their existence is more of a niche knowledge in Hell rather than a common information.”

“On that, you are correct…” Vergil murmured in response, falling back into his pensive demeanor. You knew he would be lost for a while.

“See? Good thing I brought this for you, then.” Lady waved dismissively at Dante, but you could sense a little edge in her playful voice. Dealing with big things was fine, same as dealing with cruel demons and the ones that played the big-scary-one persona. Unknown demons were another kind of monster – one only Dante and Vergil used to deal with. “Plus, they always pay well.”

“Eh, I won’t be seein’ much of that money, if I know ya well.” Dante scoffed, having a small smile hidden in the corner of his lips; his tone and demeanor, though, were quite somber and you knew the red devil was taking it seriously.

“If you don’t mind, Dante, I would like to take over this one.” Vergil finally declared while getting up from the couch. “I know some of the hellish creatures who might make use of the Weavers or mimic them.”

“Fine for me, I’m needin’ some time to rest.” Dante sighed, but looked right back at you while Vergil rested his book on the big Devil May Cry desk. “But I’m gonna feel a lot better with someone around to keep an eye on ‘im, pretty thing.”

“Well, I didn’t intend on letting you guys deal with this all by yourselves anyway.” You got up from the couch, immediately receiving a glare from Vergil. “I’m going, blue devil, whether you want it or not. I want to get acquainted with these Piranhas.”

Vergil only closed his eyes, letting out the longest and most regretful sigh you ever heard in your life.

And there you were – although Vergil lost track of you quite a while ago. He knew the stirrings rippling through his heart when you were in danger; and being the fierce human you were, Vergil wasn’t worried about having you search for the demons in the cathedral.

There was, though, a slight uneasiness. That voice echoing in the darkest parts of his soul, it always came as an omen – causing nothing but destruction, inside or outside of himself. Vergil never could really say which one would be, but both were devastating.

“Veeeeergil…”

His steps came to a dry halt in the middle of the cathedral. The night outside the colorful stained-glass windows was pitch black, robbing the colors of their warmth and light – the fire on the candles, long dead in that cold night. The whisper that crept to his ears, like stark chalk on a chalkboard, dragged itself through the marble floor and took a hold of his soul in its clutches.

It was a different kind of sound – different from the ones inside himself, calling him to the darkness. It was from the outside… The Lie Weavers. Slowly coming up, finding him as their next victim. He was close to one of the places they were certainly lurking in the shadows, patiently waiting for someone they could consume.

Vergil never feared the darkness. Tightening his grip around Yamato, his steps resumed his way, approaching the places in the cathedral the faint light of the night could barely touch. Those demons should have known their end was near, and he was the harbinger of their demise – he expected all kinds of trickery, of resistance, of fight from them.

He did not expect to hear a familiar voice, filled with uncertainty.

“Vergil…?”

Halting his steps once more, this time his silvery eyes lost their predatorial gaze as his heart jumped in his chest – even if for a slight second.

“Mother?”

His answer was but a whisper before he was swallowed by darkness.

*

When engaging with illusion demons, one should be aware of not falling into their element: when engulfed by it, those demons were more powerful than expected, able to subdue even the strongest of foes. Breaking from their control required mental and emotional discipline rather than brute force.

It was a slight second – a foolish slip from his human soul, disarmed by the trickery of Eva’s voice – and Vergil was surrounded by a sea of darkness and turmoil. His heart stirred with anger towards himself for being such a child, a vulnerable stupid child, tricked by a puppet of something his heart missed so much.

Eva was long dead. There was no demon able to bring her back. And he would never see her again. All that logic was tossed aside in a spark of a second by his stupid human heart, trembling upon hearing her speak his name again. Granted, Vergil only heard his mother in his dreams, barely remembering how her voice sounded in reality, and this time he heard outside himself – but he should have seen it coming. Illusion demons, trickster demons, cruel demons… They all relied on the barely closed scars inside his damned human soul.

Vergil could always count on them to re-open those wounds, making him bleed as much as he did on the floor of that cursed cemetery so many years ago – and he was a fool to fall for it after he had been through so much.

“Vergil… Can you hear me…?”

“I can, you damned deceiver. You can stop these theatrics – mimicking my dead mother will not affect me.” His voice cut through the dark like the sharpest of ice, his predatorial gaze back into his silver eyes.

“I… Don’t understand you, son. I cannot find you.” Her voice had a tinge of sorrow and desperation – but it was exactly like Eva’s voice. Vergil remembered it with a tinge of gold, probably a result of the haze of nostalgia, but today it was grounded and melancholic – perhaps, that was how Eva had always sounded… He just didn’t remember it. “I can’t find you. You aren’t home.”

“I haven’t been home for a long while.” Vergil didn’t even try to hide the growl that raised from his chest as he argued with that creature. He was used to having a puppet of his mother parading in front of him to hurt his human soul even more, but that was already getting on his nerves. Taunting him about the fact his mother ran to find him that fateful night wasn’t part of the usual games those filthy demons played – and to say they were honing his wrath was an understatement. “And I will never be back.”

“I… I cannot see you, Vergil. Where are you…? Why…?” He could hear the weeping in her voice, faint sobbing while the desperation made her words tremble. Vergil raised his head in the darkness, holding his own heart not to quiver: she wasn’t real and it was all a gimmick to affect him. He would not be affected. He was stronger than that. “Why couldn’t I save you? Those demons they… They hurt you, didn’t they? Oh, my child! My son! They hurt you and I could do nothing! I couldn’t be your mother!”

“Enough with this, filthy, hellish creature!” His voice finally exploded from his chest, roaring in the dark and echoing through the void, finding only silence. “You have no right to desecrate my mother’s memory like this! Shut your putrid mouth and stop with your rancid lies!”

The glint of the Yamato being unsheathed made the darkness recoil for a split second, only to envelop the Dark Slayer once more. His grip was tight, his eyes fiercely looking for his first opponent to direct a very well-placed judgement cut that could end all those creatures with just one swing of his hand. Vergil had enough and all the patience he carried in his being wouldn’t be enough to stop him from overkilling those demons – he just had to know where to direct his wrath.

“Don’t say those words, Vergil… You are not… Not like this.” Her voice still trembled, and his hand was still certain around Yamato. Vergil knew quite well at that state he was a weapon of mass destruction, he just had to find his opponent. His soul was screaming for him to do that, to put a stop to all that mockery. “You are good… You are my son.”

Vergil would have sliced that demon into a thousand million pieces without flinching, even if it took the form of his mother – but his eyes widened as a soft, warm hand touched his face. In all those years being taunted by demons, being tricked and mocked, seeing so many puppets of Eva, Sparda and Dante, none of them had touched him… And none of them genuinely felt like them.

It had been so many lost years he hadn’t felt his mother’s touch – last time, she could cup his entire face, thumb lovingly caressing his innocent eyebrows, but now her thumb could only reach his cheekbones. Nevertheless, it felt like her: not like a golden, nostalgic lost memory of how she felt, but exactly like Eva’s hands, even with the slight roughness of her continuous gardening.

“It took me so long to find you… I am so sorry.”

“You are not my mother.”

“Don’t say that.” Her answer was a sorrowful whisper, her thumb now carefully caressing his sharp cheekbone. Vergil closed his eyes, unable to move, convincing himself all of that wasn’t real and not allowing his heart to sway – forcing his arms to remain frozen by his side, fighting the urge to embrace her. Reminding himself: his mother was dead, killed while trying to save him, a long time ago, and nothing could bring her back. “Your heart hasn’t hardened as much as not to recognize me. You…” Her voice once more became soft, as if trying to do the same with his soul. “You are not a monster… You are my son, my Vergil.”

With those words, Eva’s hand was finally met with a tear – melting the ice from those silvery eyes.

*

There was an impending storm rumbling inside your chest.

Whenever that turmoil took ahold of your heart, you knew Vergil was in trouble. You had just finished checking your side of the cathedral, finding some things out of the ordinary but no demons, when the waves became aggressive in your chest. Your steps were already taking you to meet him, but you found yourself walking even hastier – the sound, though, eaten by the shadows that seemed to only grow around you.

Neither of you had calm seas of feelings: they usually raged like a maelstrom of emotions you could barely get through without some destruction – be it internal or external. But there was a certain note of melancholy and desperation in your heart at that moment that made you know Vergil was hurting – and that hurting, you knew quite well.

It was almost ironic how you apparently despised each other at the beginning, but after a while you came to understand; that aversion was there because you, in a certain way, were a mirror of each other. You could see in him the traits in your soul you disliked the most, and Vergil did see in you the same thing – those traits, however, were the same ones that brought you together, and made both you and Vergil feel seen and understood for the first time in your lives.

He didn’t judge your sins, as you didn’t judge his. To your eyes, he was never a monster, and to his, you could never be as crooked as you thought you were. You found each other in imperfection and, in that, you managed to talk and feel on the same level – after that, every feeling of admiration, care and love was easy to blossom.

You understood that storm, that thunder rumbling inside your chest at that very moment. You could feel it exactly the way he felt – and you knew Vergil needed help… Even if he would never say so himself.

You couldn’t hear or see him, though. You found yourself exactly at his area of patrol in the cathedral, but there was no clue as where your blue devil had gone – and for him to completely disappear, imposing presence and all, was quite an achievement in itself. The air was stiff, heavy as if the windows had never been opened, eating up any sound from the inside and the outside. The darkness was heavier than the one you had previously patrolled, shadows allowing only a few glimpses of the opulent decoration and the path in front of you – although, you couldn’t see more than a few meters beyond your feet.

If you couldn’t trust your sight or your hearing to find him, you could trust your heart: the storm would guide you. Closing your eyes, you allowed your feelings to take over, following with your footsteps in the direction you could hear his soul calling.

Those shadow creatures wouldn’t be able to hide him from you: no matter what happened or where you found yourselves, you would always be able to feel Vergil’s presence and find him in the darkest of hours.

And as the thunder in your chest cracked violently, your feet came to a halt and you opened your eyes.

Right in front of you, there was only darkness. Not like in the shadows that took the cathedral little by little, but pitch-black darkness, that no light could cast aside. To enter it would mean to be completely bare: vulnerable, lost, without guidance, naked – but the screaming in your soul made it very clear Vergil was in there.

Contrary to your lover, you were afraid of the dark. You always preferred to have a little light by your side, for you never knew what could be lurking alongside you, ready to pounce and drag you to certain suffering and death. You protected yourself by being forever vigilant, as you always did – a trait that exhausted you, yes, but luckily, in the last few years, you had Vergil around to keep a light by you when your body started giving out.

For that reason, you would never fear entering the darkness for him.

And with a deep breath, your bold steps took you inside the dark.

*

Your feet were cold, bare, stumbling over a sticky floor. Even if your eyes could see only darkness, you felt the freezing air of that night slicing your skin: you were shirtless and something was hurting… Oozing. The cold wind mixed with a faint warmness that leaked from the open wounds on your skin.

Blood. You were bleeding.

Your arms immediately wrapped around you – those scars, they were showing. They never showed before.

Running your hands quickly over your body, you could feel the warm blood slipping through your fingers; some wounds barely holding themselves closed while others still poured as in the day they were created.

That was the version of yourself you used to fiercely hide. None of those wounds were physical, none of them could be seen… But whenever you looked in the mirror, you saw them there, under your skin, under your soul, quietly resting until you couldn’t hide them anymore.

“You are lost…”

It was always the same voice, of something dark, something inside you that could break your soul if you didn’t shove it back into the darkness like you always did. That was why you were afraid; that was why Vergil always kept a faint glow by your side whenever you couldn’t hold yourself together. The dark was dangerous to you – to both of you.

“You are lost without me…”

“I can survive quite well without you…!” You growled to the darkness, keeping that part of yourself at bay. The part that gave in to the pain, that bathed in the blood and didn’t want to get up… And the part that would bathe and rise in rage, making you survive at great cost to those around you.

You were past that. And you didn’t need that to survive. You didn’t have to survive, you could live.

“Can’t you see that you’re lost…?”

“Vergil!” Your scream was a roar in the dark, looking for the one you plunged into the darkness to find. You wouldn’t give in to the trickery of those Piranhas – and you would get Vergil out of there.

They would learn they shouldn’t fear only the son of Sparda: they should also fear you.

“You think you can find him…?” After the mischievous ethereal voice questioned, you heard a giggle rippling around your feet as you stumbled on the sticky floor to find your lover. “You think you are that good? You think you aren’t a monster?”

You furrowed your brows, doing your best to ignore the voices. You knew it was that part inside of you that always taunted how broken you were, how imperfect your soul was. For the longest time you believed there was nothing good in you, nothing to save you from a life of loneliness, until you crossed paths with Vergil.

He was broken too – and he would never judge the things you did to survive your lethal wounds.

“Vergil! Can you hear me?! I’m here to find you!”

“How chivalrous, how heroic! What are you trying to accomplish?” The giggles pooled around your feet, threatening to drag you inside that pool of viscous darkness. “Trying to prove yourself? You’re never going to be perfect. You’re a black sheep, an outcast, remember? The likes of you aren’t heroes.”

“Oh, I’m no hero…” You growled back, fighting against the things trying to pull you back; fighting against the pain of the freezing cold and warmness of blood. “I’m a fucking fighter. You’re messing with the wrong kind of monster, fucking Hell Piranhas.”

“Piranhas…?” A faint whisper in the dark broke whatever control those things were trying to have over your body, starting at your feet. It was Vergil’s whisper – followed by a louder speaking tone. “Y/n! I can feel you, where are you?!”

“Trying to find you!” You screamed back, immediately dragging your feet towards Vergil. You couldn’t see him, but you could feel where he was – and there was nothing those demons could do against that.

The darkness seemed to shift for a couple of seconds. You couldn’t understand what was happening, but you saw a faint, ghostly pale glow in the dark – almost imperceptible, but your heart knew, you could finally see Vergil.

And, in return, he could see you. Moving his feet, Vergil dragged heavy shackles through the floor, screeching in a horrid, soul scratching sound as he willed his body to move towards you. You could hear him grunting with the effort, another set of chains being dragged as Vergil moved his arms – slowly, but surely, wearing all of his strength to get to you.

You felt the viscous ripples of the floor creeping up your legs, almost on your knees, doing their best to pull you away – back into the darkness, back to the taunting voices, to the doubt, the hurt, the self-loathing.

“Vergil! Let me hear your voice! You’re still there, right?!”

“Yes. I am always here.” His answer came with grunts of effort, barely above the noise of the chains screeching around him.

The darkness shifted again, and his form became even more visible, as yours did to him – followed by a scream that rumbled in his chest, Vergil managed to get even closer. That made something spark inside yourself, that thundering storm breaking in your soul cracking in a scream that broke the insidious tentacles holding you back and making you lunge forward.

Once again, the glow you diffused only to each other seemed to get stronger as the darkness wavered.

“Y/n…” He growled once more, the shackles screaming on the floor as he reached out to you.

“Vergil…!” You reached out in return, barely making out the form of his fingers in the dark.

As you were almost touching each other’s hands, the heavy, muffling darkness faltered once more. You could finally see one another, as you were in that godforsaken place.

Vergil was shirtless, his body covered in wounds – new and old – bleeding profusely. His silvery eyes were red, sunken in deep shadow, surrounded by a deep purple mist on his dry skin. You could see his bones under his pale skin covered in so many lacerations you wouldn’t even know where to start healing him. His knuckles were battered, showing the flesh underneath, as well as his wrists covered by heavy iron shackles – wounds from fighting against them for so long. His hands were still long and elegant, but bony and covered in bruises.

You had never seen Vergil so hurt, so broken, so… Vulnerable.

In return, his eyes took in shock the vision of you: as shirtless as him, as battered and wounded as he was. Even if not locked in the shackles he wore for so long in Hell, you walked barefoot leaving a trail of blood behind you. Those scars, those wounds, those bruises… He knew they were there, but he had never seen those. You looked weak and tired, bloodshot eyes under dry skin, as if you hadn’t slept in ages… And those things you fought so much to conceal, now crystal clear in front of him.

Those were the scars you carried inside yourselves. The wounds you had to fight against every day – that you had to try to heal, even if sometimes it seemed impossible. The things you would never show, but, somehow, you managed to sense it in each other… Now you could see it, clear as a bright night.

And, even if you wouldn’t admit to yourselves, those were the very same breaking thunders that would keep you moving – fiercely fighting, fiercely surviving.

As you took in each other’s internal selves, Vergil’s silvery eyes finally found yours.

A loud thundering noise shook the floor underneath your feet twice, as your hearts rumbled alongside the devastating sound. You lunged forward, holding Vergil’s hand as if your life depended on it. Never breaking your eye contact, Vergil held your hand with the strength you would expect of the legendary Dark Slayer. You made each other stronger, and there was nothing that could come between you now.

His shackles immediately screeched back, pulling Vergil violently away from you. At the same time, you were grabbed by the viscous darkness – your knees, your legs, your abdomen, your arms. It pulled you back with vicious strength, doing its best to drag you away from him – back into the darkness.

“Don’t let me go!” You screamed back, tightening your grip around his bony hand.

“I will never let go!” He growled, doing the same, trying to drag his body forward – failing to notice you willed yourself towards him as he pulled you into his arms. Those silvery eyes never moved away from yours.

“You are lost…! Lost…!”

The voices chanted and screeched around you, doing their best to drag you apart. For a moment, your hand slipped and you let out a desperate scream, hurting your lungs as you were almost pulled back into the void. Vergil’s cry resembled a roar as he willed his body to move and tightened his grip in a way he didn’t hold even Yamato.

He hadn’t held his brother’s hand once. This time he wouldn’t make the same mistake. This time, he would hold you even if that damned the both of you to the darkest pits of Hell.

“Can’t you see…? Can’t you see that…?”

“I am lost…!” You barked back to the voices, still staring into Vergil’s eyes, trying to catch your breath while your lungs stung as if you were inhaling a thousand knives.

As Vergil looked into your eyes, though, he knew exactly what you were going to say – and he could safely say it was the very same thing he struggled to find the words to.

“Without you.” His answer came in a dark tone, ragged from the effort he too made to be able to hold your hand.

The thunder rumbled twice again – the voices shrieked and you suddenly found yourselves being launched into each other’s arms as the forces that bind you broke into a million pieces.

Vergil’s arms wrapped around you, one of his hands holding your head close to his chest, as you wrapped yours around his waist, keeping him as close as you could. His head rested on top of yours, and you kept your eyes closed – washing away the blood above his heart with the tears that streamed down your face.

“Don’t ever hide from me.” Vergil’s voice was uncharacteristically shaky, somber but reassuring. You had never been so vulnerable in front of him – and even upon seeing you like that, his reaction was to take you in his arms, to welcome you. “I’m not afraid of the dark.”

“And I’m not afraid of your darkness.” You tightened your arms around his cold, bony body as you felt tears running through your hair. “I can see beyond your glimmer, and I’m not afraid of what’s in the dark.” Your voice shook as you took a deep breath and Vergil’s arms held you even closer – his body shaking with the tears falling from his eyes. “It’s you. And I’m never afraid of you.”

“Neither am I of you.”

His answer was but a whisper – a whisper enough to break the darkness into a memory to be kept away in the deepest pits of Hell.

I can feel the thunder that’s breaking in your heart I can see through the scars inside you

*

*

*

*

“You killed the Piranhas from Hell with the power of love?”

Vergil wanted to crawl into a hole and disappear. Or die. Or both.

Probably both.

The whole crew was there as you and Vergil never came back from the job as quickly as expected – and when you did, it looked like you hadn’t slept in days.

The priest was more than happy with the result of your work – even though you never discovered why the Weavers decided to come out of hiding nor what they wanted. The congregation was just happy they were gone and the whole reason behind it would be a long-term thing for the Devil May Cry to work on – or to keep an eye on; maybe something bigger was approaching.

You and Vergil didn’t feel like going back to the shop, though. When you were hurt physically, things were very much ok to deal with, but when the wounds were emotional… You needed time for yourselves.

Unlike his brother, Vergil was a little more responsible with his money – and you, a lot more than the two. You managed to find somewhere to spend a few nights… Which involved the both of you talking out everything you felt and saw. It was harrowing at first, something neither of you were versed in and honestly were terrified of, but it eventually brought you even closer together.

So, to say you had defeated the Lie Weavers with the power of love was something that killed Vergil inside.

And you could almost see his internal self, glaring at you with a ‘really, after all of this you say this kind of foolishness’ look in his sad, silvery eyes, as Lady stared at both of you and made the question everyone was thinking.

“Yep. Power of love, it’s a curious thing.” You shrugged, making Vergil physically groan by your side while Dante slapped his table with a huge grin on his face.

“Make a one man weep, make another man sing! Hell yeah, Back To The Future, babe!” He winked back at you as you smiled in response.

“Of all the people you could end up dating, Vergil…” Trish sat on Dante’s desk, crossing her long legs while sporting a devilish smile on her rosy lips. It was interesting how her voice could never really sound like Eva’s. “It had to be someone who references the same songs as your brother.”

“Alas, fate plays many games…” Vergil rolled his eyes, but as they rested on you, there was a vulnerability you saw only once in that pitch black darkness. “But it is kind enough to give us what we need.”

No one ever really understood what he meant, but Dante was the only one who managed to see something inside his brother’s silvery eyes that could only reflect in yours – and that made him genuinely smile.

Indeed, you would never be the romance of a fairy tale book or a romantic comedy – but you could see what lied beyond each other’s scars; taking a glimpse at the worst of each other without fear and finding whatever light was left inside. You could understand – and that was much more than most lovers in the world would ever have.

[it-happened-one-fic]

It's Nice - Floyd

Author Notes: So. Just like with all Floyd fics this one has featured copious editing and has been trapped within my Google docs for quite some time as it underwent that lengthy process. But here it is. A premarital hand holding fic for Floyd. This fic was edited while I was listening to "They Don't Know" by Tracey Ullman which I can almost promise you influenced how this fic turned out. As per usual, Reader is gender-neutral. I hope you enjoy!

Type: Gender-neutral reader/ fluff/ pre-marital hand holding/ romance implied/ sfw

Word count: 1365

I sat silently next to Floyd, watching as the unpredictable young man toyed with my hand and fingers. 

Simply put, it was an odd way to pass time, but, according to Floyd, my hands were interesting.

And evidently enough, he did find them interesting. After all, the infamously mercurial merman was just sitting next to me, leaned over so that he was largely lying on the table in front of us as he reached over and toyed with my fingers. Apparently perfectly satisfied as he fiddled with them while simultaneously being beyond careful with them. Almost like he thought they were fragile or something.

It was almost enough to make me forget exactly why all of my classmates found Floyd to be a fearful entity.

My gaze slowly shifted to our hands as I pondered what exactly made my hands so uniquely interesting to him, and then the young man in question let out a giggle. 

I frowned slightly, glancing his way questioningly as he sat up with a smile on his face as his eyes stayed on our hands.

 I didn’t get to actually ask him anything though, since he opted to explain without any prompting, “Your hands are so teeny~ How do you get anything done?”

His two-toned gaze found mine as he teasingly questioned me, and I frowned at his words. Slipping one hand out of his grasp, I held it up to better inspect it for myself.

Sunlight streamed through my spread fingers, but, for all my careful looking, I could not find anything unique, interesting, or particularly small about my hands.

In fact, it just looked like a hand. Plain and simple. Nothing special or unique about it at all.

“Are they really that small?” My response came out as more of a murmur than anything, but Floyd still managed to hear it.

“Sure they are! Look,” As he spoke, one of his own hands wrapped around my wrist as he pulled my arm, and me with it, over so that he could flatten his left hand against my right one.

He leaned around our hands, which were now pressed palm-to palm, to look at me with a wide grin, “See?”

His eyes were glimmering at me as I focused on our hands and found that, sure enough, his hand was far larger than mine, with the tips of his long fingers clearly visible over the top of mine.

“Well, I guess in comparison…” I trailed off as I noticed Floyd’s expression shifting from playful to curious as he looked down at our hands and sat back so that he was now sitting directly in front of me.

Slowly, and almost carefully, his hand shifted until his fingers slipped in between mine and folded down over my hand.

He looked utterly fascinated as he carefully held my hand in his with his fingers slipped through the gaps between mine.

And, largely by instinct, I mirrored his motions. But instead of staring out our mismatched hands, I was watching him as I interlocked our hands and caused his eyes to go wide.

It was one of those moments where Floyd looked anything but scary. In fact, he stared at our interlaced fingers with an almost childlike innocence that confused me.

What was so special about holding hands?

He’d tugged me along after him, all but squeezing the life out of my hand along the way, so why…?

I stilled, with my questioning thoughts grinding to a halt, as I realized, with no small amount of surprise, that Floyd had never held my hand like this. 

Instead of lacing our fingers together as they were now, he’d always simply wrapped his hand around mine. Enveloping it in his larger hand as if he were trying to completely hide it from view. 

Perhaps it was to ensure he had a better hold on me, but then I’d always found that I had a better grip if I had laced my fingers through another person’s and locked our hands together in that fashion.

It was a wild shot in the dark, but I found myself eyeing the young man closely as I slowly began to question him, “Floyd, have you never….?”

I trailed off, not entirely sure how to finish my question. But Floyd evidently understood what I was asking since he nodded and responded fairly easily.

“In my mer-form, I’ve got finger webbing, so…” He trailed off, opting to continue to gaze at our hands before giving my hand a tentative little squeeze that had me wondering if this really was the same young man who usually gave out bone-crushing hugs and had what might be the most merciless grip I’d ever experienced.

Though, to be fair, whenever I received one of his squeezes, it was what he referred to as a ‘tiny squeeze’ and was more of a hug than the vice-like hold that he usually dubbed squeezes.

But instead of commenting on his typically crushing grip, I tentatively finished his sentence for him, “So you’ve never held hands like this?”

He nodded, his eyes still on our interlocked hands, with his dwarfing mine as he continued to hold my hand with a surprising amount of gentleness. Almost like he was afraid I would break or slip right from his grasp if he did anything else.

I frowned slightly as I watched him in silence, but it was a strange thought, because I didn’t think I’d ever outright run from him since our early meetings, when he’d been chasing me and making life generally difficult on Azul’s orders.

Since then, I’d gotten so that I was much closer to him and the other two young men of the Octavinelle dorm that had been involved at that time. Now I only ran from him in a more playful manner, though sometimes I was genuinely trying to get away from him; it was never out of fear.

But perhaps a stranger thought was the one of how he’d never held hands like this. Though it made sense in regards to the webbing he had in his merform, it was still strange to think that he’d never done so while on land.

He’d been here for a fair bit of time, after all. He was a second year here at Night Raven College already, and Azul had said they’d gone to some sort of boot camp when they’d come on land, so he’d had plenty of time to hold hands.

But perhaps the opportunity had never arisen. Either way, the novelty of holding hands like this did explain his quietness.

After just a few more moments of silence, his gaze lifted so that he was looking at me once more. An almost embarrassed smile crossed his face as he spoke once more, “It’s nice. Holding hands.”

He held up our interlocked hands as if to show me how nice it was, and I smiled at how our palms seemed to fit together like two puzzle pieces. 

His hand was larger, but mine still fit perfectly in his palm, and our fingers interlaced like they’d found the perfect place to rest. Almost like it was meant to be.

It was almost laughable, in moments like this, to think that so many of the other students here at NRC thought I was insane to spend time with Floyd. But then, I supposed most people didn’t see this side of him.

And, with an odd degree of surprise, I realized that he was right. This was nice, holding his hand like this.

Floyd was always a mercurial person, and somehow that made quiet moments like this all the more special.

By no means did I have a problem with his playful nature, and I could understand his mood swings. I had bad days myself.

But when compared to the usually busy days of time here at school with him and all of my other friends, moments like this seemed oddly precious.

And perhaps that was why my smile spread the way it did, and I gave his palm a tiny squeeze and received a very careful one in return as soon as I softly responded, “Yeah… It is.”

[venusguks]

— saccharine boy

pairing : reader x jeon jungkook

summary : the new transfer student is a bit strange…

genre : yandere jk, future smut, angst, dark, obsessive/possessive jk

warnings : this includes DARK themes with heavy topics. i dont support this unhealthy relationship dynamic irl. a huge TW for suicide, suicidal thoughts, tendencies, coaxing, themes. this is pure fiction so please know that if you’re struggling with suicidal thoughts, this may be really really horrible to read :(( yn and jk both say shitty things

part 1 of ??

☽

i loved you before i even knew you

in days fleeting moments, the sun dipped into the ocean, casting a surge of honey waves to engulf the city whole.

it’s vast, golden essence poured through the mid-open windows and into the empty school hallways.

moments before, the laughter of the baseball team dissipated, and those who confessed to the whim of spring filtered emotions had left with tear stained cheeks.

it's empty enough that you can hear your own slip ons click against the floor.

click, click, click.

you walk up the stairs, stopping right in front of the rooftop door.

the rusted knob is cool under your skin, and bracing yourself for the wind, you twist it open.

the wind whisks past you ferociously, as if urging you to turn back. you should've heeded the warning then (how foolish of you not to), but instead, you open your eyes to the tangerine streaks of the sky.

that’s when you see him.

— ❝ hey, do you regret it? ❞

his silhouette wavered beyond the metal railings of the rooftop.

you don’t know why—what had possibly gone through your mind when you spoke. it wasn't your business—you could honestly care less for people like him,

because people like him were the same as you.

despite that, you couldn't stop yourself from screaming, "you're such an attention freak, you know that?! do you really want to be seen that much?"

his head slightly lifted.

would he listen to you? would he care?

because if it were you past that railing right now, you wouldn't stop for anyone.

but doesn’t he see?

if he jumps, right now, right in front of you,

doesn’t he know how much that would break you?

please, the wind swallows your desperation. i’m already broken enough, so please don't make it any worse.

when i muster up the courage like you someday, i need to die without the thought of you jumping in my head.

— ❝ oh, i see… you're scared of me.❞

"there are so many other ways to kill yourself. drowning, the rope—you can jump off literally any other god damned building for all i care—but don't you dare make it this building! don't you dare jump off in front of me."

you saw it, as the wind danced past him, just how lifeless his eyes were

it was as if the sun himself feared him—preferring to quickly drown into the blue abyss rather than be in his mere presence.

"i know this place is terrible—but the janitor is so kind. he's a single father of three children and if you jump, he'd have to break his back scrubbing your blood for hours. he'd come home and put on a happy face despite worrying if his children will turn out like you. so please, for the janitor's sake, deal with haunting this school a different way. your death would affect more people than you’d know, so please.”

he doesn’t move, so hesitantly, as if it would change anything, you quietly add, "ah, he gave me food one time too.”

the boy’s back quivered, and your own trembling heart ached for him—but what you thought was sniffing turned into a loud, hearty laugh

you stood there, dumbfounded as you watched him.

"you're..." he tries to say through his giggles. when he catches his breath, he finally turns to you with the biggest smile.

"you're really stupid."

— ❝ but would it help if i said i've always loved you? ❞

frozen, you can only stand there gaping at him.

"i was just watching the sunset, but your reaction was so funny. you don't know how hard it was not to laugh."

what…?

you blink once, twice—then turning your heel, you begin to walk away.

"h-hey! wait!" he called from beyond the railings. "i'm sorry, okay? i was having too much fun—i didn't mean to scare you. please forgive me."

"scare me?" you scoffed. "kill yourself for all i care. it doesn't have anything to do with me."

— ❝ since that day... ❞

you just blurted it out of spite. you knew it was cruel, you didn’t mean it. you were just so angry. how dare he make a fool out of you? make a joke out of this? in your eyes, he was far more cruel.

“fine then.”

you turn back with a vile glare, but your heart stops as he takes a step back.

the boy hums in viscous amusement when he sees the horror in your eyes. in front of the blazing red of the sun, wearing his wide smile, he resembled a demon.

"forgive me, or i'll let go."

"d-don’t be stupid," you scowl, but you could barely feel yourself breathe.

then, just like that, one of his finger tips leave the metal bar—then another, and another.

you don’t know when you started running or how you even got there, but as soon as you hooked your fingers around his collar, you gave everything to pull him back.

"are you crazy?!" you scream, hot tears trickling down your eyes.

his annoying fit of laughter only angered you more.

— ❝ i loved you before i even knew you. ❞

"like i said, forgive me—and i won't try it again," he chimed in a playful tone.

you couldn't tell if he was joking or not.

it scared you, his carelessness.

he scared you.

“okay, okay! i forgive you!” you yell exasperatedly. “god, you—you think this is funny? what the fuck is wrong with you?! you could’ve—just because i—y-you could’ve…r-right in front of me…and i-i…”

"hey, hey..." he chuckles softly, interlocking his fingers with yours through the metal fence.

you refused to look at him, but you could still feel the tingling warmth of his skin. you were close, the bars only stopping at your torso. when you look back at it, you remembered the seeping reality of his beauty.

his voice, his touch, him...

everything he did made you feel so out of control, so vulnerable.

who was he? why did you have to meet him?

"i knew you'd catch me, its fine."

"that's not the point here you suicidal bitch! i mean—what were you thinking? are you out of your mind? i swear to god—if you jumped and i became a suspect of murder, i'd dig up your own grave and kill you again!”

the boy’s eyes widened, shock dancing with his own bemusement. they were the same lifeless brown, but golden specks glimmered in where he looked at you.

finally, he smiles, “you’re horrible.”

you give a viscious glare, but before you can retort something, he continues, his hand trailing up your arm.

"but at the same time, horrible people don’t try to save a horrible person from dying. no, you can’t be horrible,” a cold shiver runs through your body when his fingers brush against your collarbone. “you’re just a sweet girl, aren’t you? an angel who saved me…”

he pulls you closer by your neck, his lips barely touching the shell of your ears. your breath hitches, and your knees suddenly feel weak.

“i’d love to ruin you.”

nothing comes out of your mouth.

all you can hear is your heart thumping against your chest. all you can feel is the unbearable heat blooming on your cheeks, and all you can see is him.

finally, his words settle in.

“get the fuck off me you creep!”

— ❝ you're never leaving me, my love. i won't let you. ❞

ː

a/n : i’m so so so sorry if this triggered some people. this may be poorly written as well as i’ve written this YEARS ago. as you might tell, i was suicidal then and i often incorporated that in writing—its a way to get it off my chest sort of. to have relatable characters is something thats always made me comfortable. honestly rereading it again nothing makes sense LOL but i thought i’d continue it just for fun. i hope whoever has come across this is having a lovely and healing day, stay safe starlights <3

[sabxism]

But I’m Here In Your Doorway

Pairing: Poe Dameron x Reader

Based on these lines from this is me trying: 

Pulled the car off the road to the lookout Could've followed my fears all the way down And maybe I don't quite know what to say But I'm here in your doorway

Word count: ~2.6k

Warnings: mentions of and encounter with possible suicide, injuries (blood, bruises, etc), mention of (previous) deaths

Summary: reader loses everything. after she nearly makes an irreversible decision, she goes to Poe for help. 

GIF not mine

The screams of your squadron members bounce around in your head. It was your fault, you knew that. You shouldn’t have set off without checking your ship. Without checking for any trackers. So it wasn’t a surprise when, out of nowhere, a group of TIEs burst out of hyperspace, straight into your fleet like pins being knocked over by 30 flying bowling balls. You had watched, helplessly, as your friends - your family - were picked off one-by-one. As they went up into terrifyingly bright balls of gas and flame and smoke. It was your fault. All your fault. 

Part of you was trying to cling onto the notion that you couldn’t have known, how could you have known? But the majority of your mind beat back those thoughts, letting the sickening guilt take over and push you into a dark corner. Debriefing had been a nightmare. General Organa had, of course, told you that it wasn’t your fault, that it was nobody’s fault but the spy she hadn’t discovered in time. She could sense the weight on your shoulders, sense you falling into a pit inside of yourself. 

After the meeting, she had pulled you aside.

“Y/N. I need you to look at me,” she said, turning your head gently but firmly with her right hand. “It isn’t your fault. You did everything you could. Sometimes, things are just out of our control.”

“I know,” you lied, just wanting this conversation to be over. Leia could sense your apprehension, and sighed.

“Look, I know that nothing I say is going to change how you feel, because I’ve been there, and I know what you’re thinking. I know it’s hard. Trust me.” you look down at the floor, scuffing the tip of your boot across the dusty ground. “It will get better. I promise you.”

“Thanks, general.” 

“How many times do I have to tell you to call me Leia?” she asks lightly as you turn to walk away.

“A few more, apparently,” you respond, the ghost of a false smile resting over your face. With that, you turn on your heel and head to your quarters. 

You step through the door as it slides open and sit down on your bed. You reach for your datapad, wanting to distract yourself with something. 

You click the screen on, and your heart drops. Staring back at you are the smiling faces of your squadron. You’re all clustered around Mari’s new droid, with hands on its shiny purple head. She had been so happy to get that little guy. 

Now they were both nothing more than dust drifting through the empty expanse of space.

 You hurl the tablet at the wall, watching as the screen shatters and falls to the floor. 

You place your head in your hands, silent sobs racking your body. You clench your hair in your hands, knuckles turning white. You stand up, body shaking, and walk out of your quarters.

You pass Finn in the hallway. He smiles at you, but you can’t bring yourself to do the same. You feel awful as he looks back at you as you pass him, but at this point there’s no use trying to fix it. You trudge outside and up to your x-wing sitting on the tarmac, the edges of the wings blackened from smoke. You glance around, checking the coast is clear, then scurry up the ladder and into the cockpit. You check the time. 

1800. 

Sighing, you boot up your craft and quickly take off. You cruise over the base a few times, watching everyone go about their day. Like nothing happened. Like 10 of the most beautiful, vibrant souls hadn’t just been snuffed like a match. You swallow the knot in your throat and head for the atmosphere. You need to get away from here. 

-

“General Organa!” Leia turns, to see a frenzied runway tech sprinting towards her. “Y/N took off on an unauthorized flight.” 

Leia swallows thickly, her heart dropping. “How long ago?”

“We noticed she was left just now - but it looks like she’s been gone about an hour.” 

“Then there’s nothing we can do but hope she comes back safely.”

“That’s what I was worried about.”

-

You land on a nearby forest planet, after searching for about ten minutes for a place to touch down. You pick a plateau on the Western side, lowering your land gear as you begin to descend. You hop down from your ship onto the grassy earth, and look around. 

It’s quiet up here. There’s a soft wind blowing, and it weaves delicate fingers through your hair and across your face as you take off your helmet. You let it fall to the ground, and decide to walk around for a bit. You make your way to the edge of the plateau, and look out across the forest beyond. It stretches on for miles, a swath of dark green. The last rays of the sun blaze across the sky, painting the clouds with a pink-orange hue. 

You glance down, and your heart drops to your toes. It’s a long way to the ground below. You begin to back up, but for some reason you find yourself stopping. You get closer to the edge, still looking down. It would be so easy to just take another step. Just one more. All of this would be over. You wouldn’t have to feel this guilt anymore. 

Your knee lifts up slowly.

Realizing what you’re about to do, you scramble back, falling to the dirt. You brace your hands on the ground, digging your fingers into the earth to anchor yourself. Your chest heaves, and your vision spins. The ground seems to buckle, to toss you around. The sky bends and arches above you as you struggle to breathe. You roll over onto your stomach and wrap your arms around your knees. 

You don’t know how long you lie there, but by the time you have the courage to stand up and walk again, the moon is floating in the sky above you, and the stars glimmer against a black backdrop. 

You climb back into your x-wing and sit there, staring at your dashboard. Your eyes meet one of the few pictures leaned against the fuel gague. You and Poe lean against his x-wing a few months ago. You have your arms wrapped around each other. He’s kissing your cheek, and you’re laughing, open-mouthed, your nose scrunched up and your eyes shut tight. 

You take a shuddering breath. Poe. You couldn’t believe what you’d almost done - what you still might do, if you don’t get out of here. You couldn’t leave him like that. You rapidly go through your flight checklist and then take off, headed back to base. 

You land on the tarmac around 0200, exhausted and beaten down by your own thoughts. You hop out of your ship, landing on the ground with a thud. 

You start walking, not really knowing where your legs are taking you, but you end up at Poe’s quarters. You can hear movement inside the room. You raise a trembling hand and knock once.

He opens the door, and his eyes widen. His mouth moves silently, searching for words.

You swallow thickly, a nervous knot tying in your stomach. 

He takes a step toward you, not quite believing what he’s seeing. Leia had told him that you’d left suddenly after their meeting, and he had grown worried that you were hurt, or worse. But here you are, standing in front of him. Your form is limp and you’re drawn into yourself. Your face and neck are caked with blood and dirt, and your eyes are clouded and empty. 

“Hi,” you say weakly. He quickly closes the gap between the both of you, wrapping you in a tight embrace. Your arms hang limp beside you.

“Stardust,” he breathes, holding you tightly. “I was so worried.”

Tears prick the corners of your eyes, falling down your face and onto Poe’s shoulder. He pulls back, concerned. Cradling your face in his hands, his eyebrows crease with worry. 

He looks down at you, stroking your cheek gently with his thumb. There’s a silent question written across his features. You shake your head tearfully. You don’t know what to say. 

“Baby…” he whispers, pulling you close to his chest again. You clutch at the back of his shirt with shaking hands.“I’m here now - you’re safe. You’re ok, you’re ok, you’re ok.” He repeats those two words over and over like a mantra, equally to himself as to you. “Let’s get you inside, ok?” he says, and you nod. Placing a hand on the small of your back, he guides you into his quarters. 

“I’ll grab some clothes for you,” he says as you sit down on the edge of the bed. He rustles through his drawers, eventually coming up with a long-sleeved olive green shirt and a pair of grey boxer shorts. He sets them on the bed next to you. “Are you good to take a shower?” You think about it for a minute, and slowly shake your head. The idea of being pounded with thousands of tiny droplets makes you want to hide under a blanket. 

“Too much,” you murmur, and he nods in understanding. 

“Ok, love, that’s fine. We do need to clean you off and deal with these cuts, though.” he gestures to the lacerations across your skin. You nod weakly. You hear him pad over to the refresher unit and grab a medkit and some washcloths, which he wets under some running water from the sink. 

He kneels in front of you, and motions for you to take off your flight suit. You slip it halfway off, letting it rest around your waist. Poe sucked in a breath through his teeth as he saw the bruises blooming across your torso and arms. You’d gotten tossed around pretty bad, getting knocked through space by several of the TIEs. You’d slammed your sternum right into the dashboard at one point, and small fragments of something had slashed open nearly every bit of exposed skin and even some under your suit. 

“Y/N…” he says quietly, tearing up. You bite the inside of your cheek, hating to see him so upset. 

He gets to work cleaning your cuts. He’s as gentle as he can be, but you still hiss as the cold water on the washcloth cleans out your cuts, and tears start to fall as he bandages up a particularly bad cut on your stomach. He holds your hand the whole time, letting you squeeze his hand as hard as you need to, never even flinching as your vice grip tightens around his fingers. 

“Ok, baby, let me check your legs and then you’re all set,” he says, and you turn away, face flushing with nervousness. He’s confused for a second, then has a moment of understanding. He’s never seen you naked - you weren’t ready to get intimate yet, so you guys had been taking it slow, and now really wasn’t the best time to breach that barrier. “You can change into the shorts first,” he says quietly, and you look back at him gratefully. 

You make your way to the refresher unit, shutting the door behind you. You peel off your flight suit the rest of the way, followed by your undergarments, crusted with blood from the cuts on your stomach. You pile the discarded clothes in a pile by the shower, and slip on the shirt and shorts Poe had leant you. You take the opportunity to glance into the mirror above the sink, and grimace at the reflection that gazes back at you. Hair messy and tangled, face bruised and covered with small cuts, you were not a pretty sight to behold. Sighing, you head back into the main room. 

Sitting back down on the bed, you lean against the wall and stretch your legs out in front of you. Poe sits down on the mattress next to you, surveying your exposed limbs. They aren’t as bad as the upper half of your body, but they definitely aren’t good. He dabs at the cuts gently, taking your hand again. He mutters sweet nothings as you clench your teeth and shut your eyes tightly for the next few minutes as he finishes up. 

“All done,” he eventually says, and you relinquish your grip on his hand, wiping the tears from your eyes. He looks up at you, and you almost melt at the love in his eyes. You realize in that moment how lucky you are - that no matter what, he’ll always take care of you. Always. 

“Thank you,” you say quietly, and he smiles softly, opening his arms. You crawl over to where he’s leaned against the headboard and collapse into his embrace, breathing beginning to even out. 

“You need sleep, baby,” he says, and you nod. “You can stay here, if you want.” You nod again, and he presses a kiss to your hair. “I’ll grab some extra blankets from the closet.” He gets up and goes to retrieve them. You get under his comforter and lay your head down on one of the pillows. Your eyes drift closed.

 Poe pads back over to the bed and pauses, looking down at you. He swallows thickly, tearing up. He makes a promise to himself then and there that he’d never lose you like that. Never again. 

He lays another blanket over you, then switches off the lights. He quickly changes into some sleep clothes and then gets under the covers, laying down facing you. 

“Poe?” you mumble, searching for his face in the dark. 

“Right here, honey,” he says softly, and you inch closer to him, a bit nervous to get too close. He senses your unease and smiles softly. “Cmere,” he says, draping a hand over your waist and pulling you close to him. You tuck your head against his chest, a warm feeling creeping into your very core. Being this close to him is grounding. You take a deep breath in. The scent of the lavender soap he uses clings to his skin, and it washes over you. You listen to his breathing, feel the rise and fall of his chest. 

“I love you,” you breathe, eyes widening as you realize what you just said. The two of you haven’t exactly said it before. You feel Poe freeze beside you, and your heart drops. You mentally kick yourself. How could you say that right now?

“I love you too,” he says, and you can hear the smile in his voice. You blush furiously as he tilts your head up with his thumb and forefinger. “To the edge of the universe and back.” He presses his lips to yours, feather soft. 

“I love you,” you say again, just because you can. He smiles softly. 

“I’m proud of you, I want you to know that,” he says after a while. “For...getting through all this. I know it hurts, and it’ll stay that way for a bit, but…” he pauses, taking your hand in his. “But I’ll always be here if you need me. To talk, or just listen. You can lean on me, ok?”

“Ok,” you say quietly, looking up into his eyes. 

“Ok,” he whispers.

“Ok.” You smile, and his heart flips at the beauty of it. He pulls you into his chest once more, and you’re out like a light almost instantly. He presses his lips to your forehead before drifting off, holding you tightly in his arms.

[starshiningsirius]

Temptation (Yandere Overblot Jamil x reader)

Thank you for letting me use this gif @flowerofthemoonworld!

Everything about her stood to him mainly the fact that she always complimented him. Other compliments he'd brush off as they were always in comparison to what Kalim did and it would only seem like he would only get recognized for Kalim's mistakes and being a servant alone.

He couldn't be in the spotlight, but that didn't stop him from wanting more. You clearly tempted him with normal pleasantries and he had fallen deeper for it.

Your affection was what he wished for, but alas the genie couldn't grant wishes of the heart.

You had suffered just as much serving Kalim if not worse when you all ventured into Night Raven. You comforted him when Kalim was made dorm leader instead when he fully deserved it more. You understood him best.

He knew how smart you were and yet you had to make yourself average to accommodate for his master's lack of brain cells. You and him would work to the point where any homework was done later in the day late at night while Kalim would be asleep peacefully. At the end of the day you'd be tired beyond belief and he'd worry over whether you were okay or not, it only made his resentment grow. He truly did care for you and Kalim was only drawing him deeper into madness.

When he would make Kalim lash out it would never be at you, he always made sure she was never targeted. This was also a plus since you'd come and try to comfort him in his room sometimes falling asleep next to him and waking up together. He couldn't have been in anymore bliss. No matter the time of day you seemed to understand his burden being a servant under the Al Asim family. You never failed to bring some light into his most frustrating days.

That was all over now though, he had finally achieved what he wanted at least for the most part. The buffoon and the rest of them were far off in the desert at this point and it would take them days to get back. He could only smirk in what formerly was his master and what he no longer had to experience.

No more passive aggressive anger anymore now that Jamil had finally gotten rid that wretched brat. All because of his own carelessness.

He had ordered a few of his mindless servants, once bright Scarabia students to get him an item from the storage room filled with treasures Kalim's father had made him bring with him. He was headed toward one room after gaining what he needed from his servants.

Once he made it there he saw his sweet darling sleeping peacefully, oblivious to all the chaos that had ensued. She hadn't seen the video most likely which he was thankful for. Rhythmatic breathing was signalled by the rise and fall of the blanket she had on her.

Jamil watched for a moment put at ease by the sight alone. He couldn't blame her seeing as she deserved to rest but this couldn't wait a moment longer in his head, he needed to share the news with her first!

"Y/n, wake up my darling," He said quietly being considerate of his volume.

"Ja -mil, what is ... it?" She yawned before fully seeing the display in front of her after her eyes had adjusted.

"Jamil! Wha - what happened to you?"

"I finally achieved greatness, I'm finally sultan!"

"What do you mean your sultan? What happened to Kalim?!" At the sound of his name he sneered.

"He's taking a long trip and won't be back until who knows when, but forget about him. I have a surprise!" He seemed so much more happy then he had ever been in her eyes. She knew something was off about it though the mana radiating from him, how unhinged he seemed, not to mention the black ink like substance coating his arms and floating about him. His whole appearance had changed on its own, she knew this wasn't the Jamil she knew and admired.

"Jamil what have you done? This isn't you. You need to calm down."

"What ever do you mean darling? I've always been this way, and now we can have whatever we want! You no longer have to suffer under that imbecile of a prince! You have me and so many servants who'll be at your back and call!" He had completely lost it in her eyes and she had to try and get him back to his senses.

"Jamil no, Kalim-"

"WHY DO YOU KEEP SAYING HIS NAME?!" His voice boomed down the halls with a god like tone.

"I-" He didn't even let her get a sentence out.

"Don't you think you've suffered long enough under him? Why can't you see I want to be there for you, I want you, everything about you, the way you shower me with compliments isn't enough! I want your attention! You gave him so much can't I get the same?!"

He had dropped something it was a little loud and it caught her attention seeing it glimmer and sparkle. Since his darling's attention was taken away from him he glanced toward the side remembering what it was he forgot. A small detail yet so simple it almost made him laugh.

"I wonder if you know how the Sorcerer of Sand tried to gain the princess's favor?" He said using magic to lift the crown toward him effortlessly.

He made his way over to her the snakes that had formerly been his braided hair, hissing, making an unbearably loud obnoxious sound for her ears. She covered them and closed her eyes hoping this was all just a nightmare to go away when she wakes up.

He took her hand gently invoking her to open her eyes at the feeling of a slimy substance on her fingers. She had to face what she wished was a figment. Gazing directly into the eyes of her former friend. He had a sly smirk on his face as he spoke his next words.

"Please won't you accept this crown." She forgot just how enchanting his voice was. Her eyes went dull, and her expression was calmer.

"Yes, my dear Jamil." She answered immediately without question.

"I'm glad you see things my way."

This would be fine, Jamil had this all planned out. He just had to show her the luxuries she would receive and she'd come to understand. At least one good thing came from all of it as he made her intertwine lips with his own, she wouldn't remember any of it later on. The mind control bits at least, so he couldn't have her knowing the situation and eventually despise him.

No.

If he could just convince her to fall into his temptation as she had did to him. It would be simple.

. . .

They now sat together at a lavish dining display, the sultan smiling at his darling. While his darling showed some discomfort from the snakes that scared her to death.

'It would be fine.' The thought repeating in her head in an attempt to calm down her breathing as she tried to recollect her own memories of how all this came to pass.

"My darling why don't you eat, as much as you want, it's all for you."

She flinched when she heard his voice. It was calmer than before but her unease kept her from feeling safe. When one of the snakes came too close she yelped, the feeling was so strange and unexpected that she had no preparation, though who could have seen any of this coming. He had yelled at her before, she was well aware of that but nothing else afterwards.

"Y/n."

"Y -yes?" She responded without looking at him not even a glance was made that way, but she responded so it was an accomplishment achieved in his eyes. He just had to succeed in calming her frantic nerves.

His mind had already came up with an plan to solve the problem. Slowly but surely he pulled her into his lap and tried cradling like they used to do after frustrating days, venting to one another.

"My deepest apologies, I shouldn't have raised my voice, earlier." She was frigid in his arms, but she wasn't resisting in order to not anger him.

After a few moments of silence he sighed.

"Do you remember, when we were like this? You'd fall asleep after listening to me vent about my day."

She didn't respond but he did feel her relax a little. This was still Jamil, though he was different it was still him. Her mind tried to convince herself of that fact alone. If he knew that fact it had to be him. She was worried though, about Kalim and the others but she didn't dare mention them in fear of him raising his voice or possibly hurting her.

This relationship wasn't ideal, but it was a work in progress for Jamil wasn't one to give up so easily. The temptation he had was right within his arms and all it would take was some time to tempt her into falling for him as well.

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