#but none of it is going anywhere. and i'd like to be going somewhere | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

threepandas · 4 months ago

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Bad End: Eve

You know how most Otome games are vaguely historical? Usually some non-specific mishmash of European countries? But fluffier and with more bows? It had once "gotten" to me, I think. I remember looking for outliers. Non-joke ones. Something that wasn't just "but this time with hats!"

I found one.

And now? Now I'm not sure if I curse that day or thank whatever force of nature lead me there. I guess... I guess it depends. Would I still have ended up HERE? If I had not found it? If so, then I genuinely and actually fucking rue it. Like... like actual "you'll rue the day! Bwahaha!" Type rue it. That's me. Ruing.

But? If it was always going to happen?

Then I guess...

I guess I'm weirdly glad. Because at least I have some fucking idea of what's going ON. Terrible, as it all is. Fucked, as the situation is. At least I'm not... not confused. Blind and at the mercy of those around me. Ignorance truely isn't bliss. All it does is leave you to try an fill in the blanks yourself. Usually with something far worse.

Not that the situation could GET much worse, by much.

I was in an Otome game. NOT a flower, high society, and dragons kind either. No. I? Was in a Dark Sci-Fi otome game. "Fate of man" was thrown around a lot. Power of luuuuv~ and such. Also, you know, HORRIFIC ethical violations. Human experimentation. Cataclysmic events and humanity "starting over".

All the high drama sci-fi concepts you could expect. It was a romp. Had good art. I'd had fun! Which is why I remember it so clearly.

Less fun when you're IN IT.

When you AREN'T one of the characters you KNOW will survive.

In fact, are one of the characters you know WON'T fucking survive. And will probably die MESSY. Horribly. Cause see, our BELOVED Harem collecting Protagonist? She? Was AN Eve. "AN".

Take a wild fucking guess what THAT project is about.

Did you say "breeding a better race of humans"? Ding ding ding! With humanity currently fucked, they want to FIX the problem by FIXING humanity. And of course, fuck ethics! Volunteers? Why use those?! Let's horrifically mad scientist our way to atrocity-ville! Make it all the more "God rightfully punishing us for our unforgivable sins" when we get wiped out!

Fffffffuck YOU, plot! I have to live here too!

You may, in fact, be picking up a slight note of stir crazy. A "wow, this lady rambles like a mother fucker" vibe. You would TOO, if you were stuck in a FUCKING TUBE. All I can do, day in and day out? Is wake, think, observe, then go right back to sleep. I can't even eat! I got a TUBE for that!

I... I miss showers.

Everything is GOO.

I'm an Eve. And if it weren't for the air tube controlng my breathing? I'd laughing hysterically until I died. And no, not in the "oh how funny" way. God. Oh... oh god. What a way to die. NONE of the Eves survive "the program".

Those IDIOTS are so OBSESSED with making bigger and bigger, better and better, FUCKING JUGGERNAUTS? That the Adams? Have long since reached the point of "mindless killing machine". UNSTABLE is putting it lightly. There is sexual dimorphism and then there's literal incompatibility.

But GOD FORBID the scientists admit that THEY are the ones with the inferior product.

It... it was even part of the game's plot. The scientist who made "Eve" HID her while HE made an Adam. I do not have that luxury. Somewhere, there is an unstable BESERKER being told I'm his "wife". That we're going to be HAPPY together. That he'll get to put his bruising, blood soaked hands anywhere he WANTS... just after he WINS me from the other Adam's.

Got to prove HE'S the best specimen, after all.

It makes my skin crawl. All I can hope, is that I can either provoke the bastard enough to kill me before they have a chance to stop him, or? I use my own enhanced strength to snap my neck. Maybe bite my tounge. Like HELL am I letting an Adam get near me.

The hiss of laboratory doors.

"Perfection at last..." Comes a relieved sigh. "All those HIDEOUS specimens. Why they make me suffer them, I'll never understand. We should have terminated them months ago. My poor project, they really think they're WORTHY of you..."

There's a derisive laugh. The scientist strolling into the lab I've been developing in, familiar. I watch him casually shrug off his lab coat and dump is bag. Hang his coat over the back of his chair. Turn, as he does each day, to STARE up at me. His eyes are a pale, pale purple the likes of which I've never seen before.

They're HAUNTING.

There is almost a red tint to them, though maybe that's the lights. The goo. I can never tell. He always looks ENTRANCED by me. Floating, visored, connected to far too many tubes an' wires. I'd think it was the fact that I was naked if it weren't for the way his gaze doesn't seem to drift lower then my shoulders. Seems more entranced by the way my hair moves, as though under water.

I've never once heard him talk about me lustfully.

But that doesn't mean he doesn't SCARE me.

"Let's begin, shall we? Time for your daily doses, mmm?" He says, voice dangerously affectionate. As though i had CHOSEN to do this to myself. As though he were merely reminding me of my morning medicine and not the hell ahout to come. "Going to be good for me? I know you shall, you always are."

He turned back to his desk, his computer. A few keystrokes... and I could feel the pod above me begin to hum, as it awoke. Oh god. Oh god it never got easier. From the corner of my eyes, bright chemicals slide down thind lines and into my veins. Like lines of lava. Bolts of electricity and pain. It was... AGONY.

My muscles seized. Brain screeched, first to the screaming I wish I could make... then static. With the long practice of daily pain, it took me far away. The click, click, click of keys. The sound of his voice, so terribly PLEASED, as I hung there and just TOOK it. No restraints, no strugging, no damaging myself. Just unbearable fire in my veins and a brain far, far away.

"Good girl~"

Distantly a phone rang. He made an annoyed sound, but picked up regardless.

"What. I'm in the middle of- ...Excuse me? I'm quite sure I did not hear you correctly. I said 'NO'. She's not-....I will NOT BE-...What. Are you out of your god damned MIND? That pile of scraps you call a project is coming NOWHERE near my-! ....you think you're clever, don't you?"

"Fine. You want to TALK? Let's TALK, Anderson. I'll be there in five."

From far away, past the pain, I watched him chance down at something at the screen. Back up to me. He hung up the phone but did not pause the program. Instead, calmly rising from his desk. Shrugging on his lab coat. Rounding the desk and striding towards my bio-tube.

"Hmmm, honestly, it should have been spaced out over a few more days... but you can take it. Endure a bit longer for me, would you, darling? Daddy's going to go deal with something for just a moment, he'll be right back, my perfect girl. Be good."

He leaned forward, pressing his forehead to my tank. One hand splayed next to it like he badly wished he could touch. Could stroke skin. Hold his creation close. It was not the first time he had done this. Small, covetous, little actions like he wanted to crawl inside my skin and STAY there. Like he cursed the glass that separated us.

He pulled back. Shifted to the side and kneeled. He... had hidden something behind my bio-pod? When? Apparently before I had become aware. Because I had not known about it. A black shoe box. I watched him open i-GUN. Thaaaat was a gun! Fuck. Well at least? By the time anyone thinks to look in on me? The overdose will probably have killed me?

There is a cold, terrible smile on his face as he rolls to his face. Tucking the gun into an inner pocket. It has a silencer. He leans forward one last time. Lightly kissing the glass of my pod, as though heading off to work and not to very obviously kill somebody. The pain continues. Builds. I watch him leave.

With nothing to anchor myself on... time blurs.

I think? There are alarms? Red lights flash. Then they stop. There is shouting at one point. But then silence. An explosion? Or am I hallucinating? Pain. My nerves are on fire. I don't want to have SKIN. Please... please make it STOP! Calm foot steps? Come to kill me? Please come to kill me. Make it STOP.

The lights died a... time? Ago? Emergency lights on now. Generators in the room are loud. Why can I still hear the feet? Footses? Words. H..hurts. please.

Click.

The pain eases to a stop. Aching but nothing new. Over? Oh, thank god. I can sleep now, right? But... sound? New. At my feet. Gurgling. Wha-? The very top of my head feels cold. Then my forehead. Then my temple's and ears, cheeks, jaw... wait. Is? Is the tube...DRAINING? I open my eyes.

When did I close them?

He's back.

Standing right in front of the tube. Blood staining the hem of his coat, lingering marks of his massacre cleaned but not quite scrubbed from his body. There are little off red stains on his cheek, from what must be blood splatter. They look like tiny freckles.

I'm... I can't...

I reach as the tube down my throat is pulled almost carelessly away by the machine. Choke, suffocate, as the same is done for my air tube. But then it's done... and I can BREATHE under my own power. Gasp and splutter, as the goo sloshes around my knees. Then it's gone. And the tube I've been leaning my weight against is roughly pulled away.

I collapse forward, my muscles having never actually supported me in this life.

Arms catch me. Wrapping me in a possessive hug. A hand immediately burying itself in long uncut hair, even as the other wraps itself around my torso to lean me against his body in a cradle. My face is pressed to his neck by the hand in my hair, cradling my head and neck. I can feel breath against the goo wet crown of my head.

"Finally~" he breaths out, whispering it against me like a sigh. "My beautiful, perfect girl. My darling creation. It took so LONG. Those retrobates interfering at every turn, lusting after you like ANIMALS, trying to keep you from me. Then, worst of all, trying to toss you to some pack of savages? Oh, darling~ Daddy's been so worried for you."

"But we'll be okay now, won't we? I finally have you. All fresh and finally finished. My perfect Eve. You can pick any name you want, of course. You and I will be leaving this ugly little place. Daddy has PLANS. A fresh new world, just for you, sweetheart."

He laughed, his hug tightening in a way that would have left bruises had I been a normal human. Kisses were pressed to my temple. A cheek, rubbed against my hair. He seemed... seemed GIDDY with it. That nothing could stop him now. There was no glass in his way. I could not move yet. My muscles twitched when I tried, but that was it. I wasn't even sure I could talk yet, if I tried.

"Aaah~♡ Welcome to the World, Darling. My Perfection. My Eve. This time no snakes or Adams to tarnish you. To get in your way. Just you and your Father~"

"FOREVER~♡"

Next: ->

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parvulous-writings · 8 months ago

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Could I request headcanons for Wyll, Rolan, and Zevlor react to being stuck in close proximity with gn crush?

Warnings: None!

Notes: These may be a little short/uneven, but these were so cute to write!! Anon, you've become such a prominent asker, that I'd love to give you a nickname of some sort, if you're comfortable with that! <3 My requests are currently open! My pinned post (found here) contains both a list of characters I write for, and a masterlist! Original character list - please request for these too!

Wyll

Wyll is a gentleman about the whole situation - or at least he tries to be. He gives you as much space as he is able to, even though he's squishing himself into a corner, he's more than happy to do that so that you're comfortable.

He tries to keep up conversation with you, to try and distract from the somewhat uncomfortable situation; mostly mundane questions, like 'What's your favourite...' or 'Have you ever...' It's also partly to distract you from the fact that his cheeks are burning hotter than the hells. Who'd have thought it'd be easy to fluster the Blade of Frontiers, even if it were only slightly, by being so near to him?

He cannot take his eyes off of you. Not even for a moment. He tries, at first, but finds it astronomically difficult, and eventually just gives in. He loves gazing at you - your presence brings him such peace, even in such a compromising position such as this.

Once the two of you are found/make your way out of the confined space, Wyll apologises - even though it was not his fault - and offers to make it up to you at some point, by however you see fit.

Rolan

Rolan is entirely speechless. He cannot find the words to say anything to you, not even a half-handed snappy quip. His eyes rarely meet yours, and are rather more often aimed off to the side, or somewhere above your heads. It's... Quite awkward.

You try anything to break the silence between the two of you; "Can you move your leg, please, Rolan?" Followed by a quiet shuffle as Rolan tries to move a little bit further from you but still remain comfortable. It is of little use on either front, but he tries. Any question of "how are you feeling?" Or "You okay?" is met with either complete silence, or a quiet grunt of acknowledgement.

Rolan doesn't know what to do, he's never been in a situation like this before - much less a situation where he can't find the words to express himself. His heart is pounding against his ribcage, harder than he can recall it ever being in his life. He's entirely tense, and he has no idea what to do; his normal confident facade has completely crumbled away, leaving little besides anxiety, and a slightly fuzzy feeling in the pit of his stomach whenever you speak.

The first chance he gets after the pair of you can separate, he all but disappears from view - for several hours. You had wanted to talk to him about it, but couldn't find him anywhere. Eventually you do find him, but as soon as you bring up the situation, he turns his gaze from you; "I... Would rather not dwell on the situation... If it's all the same to you." He's just too flustered still to be able to process any of it.

Zevlor

Zevlor is constantly asking how you're feeling. "Are you sure you're well?" followed a few minutes later with, "Is there anything you need? ... Yes, I am aware I can't go and get anything, but I'm sure you understand the sentiment..."

He constantly asks you if you're alright, comfortable, etc. Neither of you know how long you're going to be stuck in this situation, so is completely understanding of the constant need to shuffle to keep your limbs from going dead. This being said, he'll always tell you if he's going to try and move himself, just so that he can try not to kick you, and you can brace yourself just in case of this outcome.

He tells you of his time in Elturel before it's descent into Avernus, his time as a Hellrider, all sorts. He finds it very easy to share things with you, since he's so sweet on you - it would usually take some probing for anyone to get that kind of information out of him. But, since he would like to establish more of a relationship with you, he's willing to part with some of it.

Once the two of you are out in the open again, Zevlor double checks that you're okay. "I would have hoped to have had some of those conversations in a more... Traditional way. But, I suppose, one cannot deny the deft hands of fate, hm?"

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ididntknowwhattocallthis · 7 months ago

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Ok I wanna talk about Ethari's clothing/design over all. His clothes and tattoos are different from every other Moonshadow elf we've seen, and he's one of the few that doesn't wear braids. Like:

The recurring elements are intricate patterning; over layers and under layers; multiple colors in the same garment (or at least same outfit); wraparound construction, color contrast between mediums, lights, and darks; and the dominant color is always the medium, never the lightest or darkest color (usually navy, true black is very rare outside of the assassins). Even arc 2 Rayla follows most of these rules and she's been away from her culture for two years!

But then we have Ethari:

He doesn't have an outer layer, he wears almost solid navy, none of those clothes are wraparound, he has no light color, there's not a lot of contrast, and his dark color is true black despite not being an assassin. He bends all the rules, though he only breaks one completely. He still has that patterning, but it's minimal compared to the others. He has plenty of accent colors, more than anyone else actually, but they show up on him far less. He does have light, medium, and dark colors, but his whole pallet is darker than everyone else's. The only rule he 100% breaks is the wraparound construction

A lot of this probably derives from the fact that he's a metalsmith:

For the most part his clothes quite are practical;

Black/navy hides coal dust/soot very well. It gets everywhere, on your pants and face especially, and is highly visible on just about every other color.

Forging is hot work & you do it next to a fire that needs to be at least 1000° celsius, I never wear more than one layer either.

those sleeves, while a bit looser than I'd be comfortable with, probably aren't going to get in the way. Plus I heard somewhere that they're spelled to repel heat (couldn't find if that's actually canon tho), so if that's true they're much better than my gloves.

The crop top isn't great but he's got that belt to stop most embers. Besides he's probably not the type to yelp every time one lands on him like I am.

if he pulls the scarf over his mouth & nose it'll help delay him getting lung cancer in the death trap of a smithy Wonderstorm designed for him (my problems with it are a post all on their own. I have nothing against the artists, its pretty, but by all rights he should be dead)

There might also be a cultural aspect to his clothing:

I think the navy blue, the arm bands, the boot decorations, and his belt & tabard could all be symbols that mean "I am a metalsmith" in Moonshadow culture. (Quick side note, he's not technically a blacksmith. historically blacksmith means specifically iron workers. If anything he's a whitesmith since he usually works with silver.) We see it with the assassins, why not metalsmiths too?

Plus if you take a look at his forge in the art book, there's a design carved on it that looks almost exactly like the one on his tabard. Elements of it also appear on other parts of his clothing:

I suspect that this is some sort of symbol for metal working or fire protection. If he's in a guild it could be their symbol, or it could just be a wider cultural symbol. Either way it has a meaning that relates to the forge specifically. I couldn't find it anywhere else in the room.

I just realized that I never even brought up the metal hems on his sleeves. Then again what is there to say? It's metal, he's a metalsmith. It's pretty, he likes pretty things.

But what about the rule he completely breaks?

As I said, every moonshadow garment has some sort of wrap-and-secure construction to it-- except Ethari's clothes. I seriously doubt this is a metalsmith thing. Basic garment construction isn't a sensible way to differentiate your group within one culture. I fully believe Ethari is doing this on purpose. But why? That why gets even bigger when you realize that no other moonshadow elves we've met have brown eyes or periwinkle blue tattoos.

Put a pin in all that, I need to explain my interpretation of Moonshadow culture for this to make sense.

"Moon Primal creatures can be private and secretive, and are keenly aware of the power of appearances." - from the official website

"Moonshadow Elves obey a rather rigid, honor-driven culture." - from the wiki

To me this paints a picture of a fairly collectivist culture. They place a heavy emphasis on community and duty, two things that are usually more peaceful/simpler when you have cohesion within the group. Cohesion creates less conflict, less conflict makes your community more peaceful and your duty to it easier to complete.

But they know that this cohesion is- to an extent- only an act, so each person has a sub community where they don't have to act. Your inner self is for family and friends close enough to be family. (I honestly think they might have some sort of ritual to formally adopt friends as family) To everyone else you're supposed to put up a front that makes you seem more like everyone else.

OK back to the pin

Even without his clothes, Ethari is already visually different from everyone else. No other Moonshadow elves we've seen have tattoos or eyes the same color as his. It's a subtle difference but it is noticeable, and in a culture so focused on appearances people would notice. Most people's instinct would be to try to hide or downplay it, to prop up that front as much as they can. Yet Ethari doesn't put up a front, not to the extent that most people seem to. He's even accentuating his differences by dressing in a different style than them- and he's respected.

In my comm class the other day we were talking about groups, and one of the things that came up was that cohesion fosters sameness and diversity fosters innovation. Ethari is an innovator, it's literally his job. He invents the wingalings in bloodmoon huntress, Runaan and Rayla's weapons, and probably a bunch more stuff we haven't seen. Maybe for all they value appearances and fitting in, moonshadow culture still recognizes that people like him are important and they aren't as effective when they have to fit in. They can't be too out there (remember, Ethari only bends the rules rather than breaking them) but as long as they stay within a certain radius of the norm they can gain a lot of respect. I think this is what Ethari has done. The fact that his family (Runaan, Tiadrin, Lain) are all pretty traditional probably helped a lot. They keep him from pushing too hard on the edge of the box and he keeps them flexible.

That they aren't there anymore has probably exacerbated the rift between him and the rest of the silvegrove caused by Rayla's ghosting and whatever news has reached them from the storm spire.

I am so excited to see him in S6. I thought about adding some speculation about what his new design might look like, but I honestly don't think he'll have changed that drastically aside from his hair. My biggest question is honestly whether or not he's still in The Silvergrove.

Bonus:

I bet that some of Ethari's relative weirdness rubbed off on Rayla. She didn't have many friends as a kid so, when she wasn't in school or with the assassins, it makes sense that hung out with Ethari a lot. Since he's less strict than Runaan she was probably only comfortable completely unmasking with him. He heard about all her crushes, fears, and insecurities that Runaan didn't. Which goes a long way to explaining why Ethari was the only one who could see she wouldn't be a good assassin; she was hiding those traits from everyone but him.

This also explains some of why he was so willing to believe that she ran away. Ethari saw all of her vulnerability, but he didn't see all of her strength. While she was out training and facing her fears with Runaan, Ethari was in the smithy and only heard about their exploits after the fact. Neither of them saw all of who Rayla is, but both of them thought they did and had to find out that they were wrong in just about the most heartbreaking way imaginable.

#this started as me going “how actually practical are Ethari's clothes?” while I was forging that touchmark stamp #and spiraled out of control from there #also we're ignoring Redfeather because a) she was ghosted b) I didn't remember she existed when I started this #ethari #tdp #the dragon prince #tdp ethari #tdp meta #character analysis #rayla #tdp rayla

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polarisbibliotheque · 6 months ago

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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

youtube

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.

#devil may cry #devil may cry imagine #dmc #dmc imagine #vergil x reader #vergil imagine #devil may cry fanfiction #dmc fanfiction #dmc vergil #vergil sparda #devil may music #song fic requests #cirice #cirice ghost #there aaaaare a few references to other things sprinkled here and there #the nostalgia and haziness from secular haze and ghuleh/zombie queen #but the whole Eva thing was the zombie queen nostalgia #never let go? that's from Titanic #the two thundering noises being the thundering drums from the song #the holding hands from the video from the scene that killed me in Matrix and my drawing when I was 15 y/o #seriously it's a recurring imagery in my life and I'm always ??? so it's in here too #I won't suffer alone #for some reason I sometimes sing 'I can see through the stars inside you'#and that's where the reader's 'I can see beyond your glimmer and I don't fear the dark' comes from #and that silly little ending at the shop was just a thing to tie it all together #OH! THE HELL PIRANHAS! Totally inspired by those shadow piranhas from the library planet episode in Doctor Who #the whole concept of those things just creeps me out #if some lost soul from the Ghost fandom fell here by chance or mistake do apologize #I need to tag things properly in this blog to update my masterlist forgotten in the abyss so finding it by cirice will be easier #Youtube

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writingredrose · 4 months ago

Text

birthday surprise | Idia x reader

summary : It's Idia's birthday today and you decided to get him a present. Along with maybe something you've been wanting to tell him for a long time

warnings : none :3

fic type : fluff

a /n : Is it just me or Idia is a VERY hard character to write? :') Also mb if the romantic scenes suck, I can't write them well :'(

— Introduction —

The snow was slowly falling onto the grass outside Ramshackle dorm, covering it in a nice thin snow blanket. And while outside it was peaceful, inside the dorm was chaos.

The AceDeuce duo had invited themselves in the dorm earlier, but that escalated quickly as for some reason while you and Deuce were talking, Ace started chasing Grim through the whole dorm. “Hey Grim! Ace! Can you sto- AGH GRIM COME ON!�� You quickly avoided a blast of fire coming from Grim too close to a certain blue box that was sitting close to the window. “Shit,the box! Deuce! Do something!„ “I'm on it Prefect! I summon thee, cauldron!„ “Are you stupid?!? Don't -! „ Too late, a big cauldron dropped from thin air not only stopping the fight, but also making a whole new hole into the already destroyed floor. Well, at least the box was safe and steady in your hands. You got closer to the cauldron coughing a bit from the dust in the air. “You've got to be kiddin' me man, I just fixed the floor!„ “Ah, sorry Prefect, I just couldn't think of another way to stop the fight„

You sighed and looked at the box on your hands. “You could've destroyed the box idiots. Must you always fight when you're together? You're like a bunch of children!„ “Oh come on! We didn't even do anything bad! Besides what even is in the box that's so important??„ You look at it again, the faint blush on your face doesn't go unnoticed by the three. “It's a present for Idia„

You would've never guessed Idia would even allow such a party with this many people. Thinking about it, he probably didn't, it was most likely Ortho who wished his big brother would interact with people more, and since it's his birthday he probably saw a big opportunity for it.

Speaking of which, you've been looking for Idia for a while now. There were two options here : 1. either he was locked in his room not even bothering to come out or 2. He is somewhere here, hiding in a corner most likely playing one of his gacha games. You figured you should keep looking, you were sure your present was definitely gonna boost his mood. As you were looking for him, you accidentally bumped into someone. “Ah! Y/N-san hello!„ Looking down from where the voice came from, it was none other than Ortho. Well, maybe he could help you find Idia. “Ortho hello! Hey, I have a question. Do you have any idea where your brother might be? I can't seem to spot him anywhere„ “Of course! Nii-san is right over there in the corner — he said while pointing at the far wall in front of you — He's a bit overwhelmed tho, I hope you can help him, he always seems to like having you around„ Smiling down at the boy and thanking him for helping, you made your way to far back of the room.

And there he was. He was staying on the floor with his knees up and his chin on them playing on his phone. You silently made your way to him and sat down on your knees, box still on your hands. “Hello there birthday boy, are you alright?„ You spoke loud enough for him to hear but not the other people. Idia left out a squeak almost dropping his phone at the sound of your voice. He looked at you and prayed to the sevens you didn't see his pink cheeks. “H-hi Y/N-shi. I'm.. I'm fine. I just hate being in a room full of normies and loud music... that's all„ You looked at him with a small smile. Oh how he loved it when you smiled at him like that. “Yeah, loud music definitely gives me a headache, say, I have a present for you, do you want to go open it in your room? It's less overwhelming there„ Oh Idia loves you so much. He was more than grateful that you understood how he feels perfectly. “Uh yeah, I'd-I'd like that„ „Great let's go!„ Only when you both got up did Idia notice the box in your hands. That must be the present you were talking about. He can't help but have a small, almost unnoticeable, smile on his face at the thought of you going out of your way to buy him a present. Given the fact that your financial situation wasn't the best.

You both discreetly made your way out of the Ignihyde lounge and successfully made it to Idia's room unnoticed by anyone. Idia closed the door behind him and turned to you. You were sitting on the floor with the biggest grin on your face. He laughed. “With how excited you are, people might think you're the one getting the present, not me„ You giggled at his comment. “I'm just excited for you to open it! Now come on! Come sit next to me and open it!„ You patted the spot next to you and Idia hesitantly took a seat on the floor next to you. You excitedly handed him the box motioning for him to open it.

When he opened the box, Idia couldn't contain his surprised yelp. In the box there was the ENTIRE collection of a manga he has been bragging to you about, for months. He never bought it because he never found it online. And he never thought about checking in irl stores. Idia looked at you with wide eyes. “W-where did you get this?!? I couldn't find even one volume online!!„ You laughed at the reaction. “Hm..well, with the help of Jack, Ace, Deuce and Grim, I've been able to find it in one of the stores around Night Raven„ “But-...but, this, without a doubt, was like EXTRA EXPENSIVE!! How did you-?„ “Oh the teachers gave me a hand with money, I helped them after hours and they paid me for it. It was..some very long 5 months„ “FIVE?!„ While Idia was surprised by your gesture, he couldn't help but smile brightly at the gift. Again, the thought of you doing something like this for him...he knew you knew he was a loser who stayed in his room all the time, despite that you still went out of your way to buy something like this. He turned his face to you, his tips of his hair pink and so were his cheeks. “T-thanks... really, I love it„ “You're welcome„ And that's when Idia saw it, despite the genuine smile on your face, he knew there was something else that was bothering you. It's a thing he picked up after staying so much with you, your habits and what they meant. “What's up?„ His concern didn't go unnoticed by you. You took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes, and oh, how beautiful those yellow eyes were. “There's uh... there's something else in the box..„ The blue haired man looked in the box again, and he noticed a paper. He took it out and he figured it was some sort of birthday card. He heard you whisper read it with your head turned around so you wouldn't look at him. Oh boy, what was it? Is it bad? Did you want to break his friendship with him and you wrote it there?!? Did you realize he's a loser and you left him for someone better?! No that can't be! How would he be able to bottle up the courage to confess if you wouldn't be friends anymore?!? Idia didn't like that one bit. Trying to ignore the overthinking in his head, with shaking hands Idia opened the card.

He looked at the text first, mostly admiring your beautiful hand writing. As he started reading, his hair became more and more pink while progressing through the card. He thought he was going to die right then and there when he first read the words "I love you" Idia likes you, he loves you, he adores you so much, he can't even put it into words. He loves your presence, your laugh, your face, everything. He had never told you simply because he knows he's an ugly loser, and you'd never like someone like him. But right now, with the card in his hands, he can't help but silently yelp and the words. You love him and he loves you.

Looking back at you, Idia noticed you still didn't look at him. Body slightly shaking in anticipation. You were scared, scared that he might think it's disgusting for you to feel such things. Even tho he was the one to break the silence. “I- I really...-re-really...- love you...too„ SEVENS WHY WAS HE STUTTERING SO MUCH. He can't get a word out of his mouth. That's when you decided to finally look at him. Your eyes were wide and looking at him with your face read, Idia was thinking that surely his was redder than yours. He looked at the floor and spoke again. “I-I've liked you for..for a while„ Idia looked at you again, he knew you wanted to say something, he waited, not patiently, but he waited. Finally, you took a deep breath and looked him in the eyes. Idia was sure going to faint if you kept looking at him like that. “Can I....can I kiss you?„ The moment those words reached his ears, Idia's hair turned a bright red. Of course he wanted to! He dreamed of kissing you, and that happened only in his fanfics! Maybe he shouldn't tell you that tho.

Idia slowly nodded and you both got closer to each other. Closer and closer until your lips meet. And, oh, Idia thought for a second he reached the heavens. How nice it was to kiss you. He hesitated for a second before he lightly put his hands on your waist, trying to get you closer. You answered by putting one of your hands on his cheek, while you intertwined your fingers with the other.

The kiss didn't last long, as Idia needed to breathe. Soft pants could be heard from him, his hair still bright red, like his face. You smiled at him, you smiled at him like you smiled at no one else. And so did he. He gave your hand a squeeze before, once again, breaking the silence. “Can we...do that again? Please..?„ You laughed before scooting closer to him, your bodies almost touching. You got close to his lips to whisper a barley audible "Of course we can„ Before kissing him once again.

Idia hoped he could stay like this forever. Now his birthday party long forgotten by the both of you, only thinking about each other at the moment, and how you hoped you could stay like this for eternity. Ah, how much he loved you.

#twisted wonderland #twisted wonderland x reader #twst idia #idia shroud #idia x reader #idia shroud x reader #ortho shroud #ignyhide

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reveluving · 9 months ago

Text

see you on thursday ; jeff sadecki x reader

summary: the future starts to seem brighter when Jeff reunites with a familiar face in front of the therapy clinic.

warnings: bits of angst ; infidelity (teen!Jeff, not on reader), Shauna slander (sorry but it’s a habit at this point kdlsjsdl), your issue is unspecified in therapy (besides the plane crash), self-deprecating humour, Jeff's a little ashamed about therapy but you talk him through it. all in all, loads of fluff! 🩷

a/n: based on this ask because who am I to say no to this handsome? can't thank you enough for sharing with me this lil' idea and I hope to see more!! 💋 don’t forget to leave some sugar! ᐠ( ᐛ )ᐟ

» fancy reading another Jeff fic? check out the m.list!

'But it was over. It was like a total reset, as if life was finally giving him the chance to be good.' ;

Jeff was the first to see you, and the second he recognized who you are, he immediately turned around, standing awkwardly in hopes that the girl he truly had a good relationship with back in high school didn't see him like this; from a well-off charmer to nothing more than a newly divorced man who has been seeking therapy for a few months or so.

Surely, that wasn’t her, right?

“Jeff?” His stomach flipped, cursing his luck.

“(Y/N), hey,” He mentally facepalmed, embarrassed for eagerly greeting her even before his eyes landed on her, “Surprised to see you here.”

“You're telling me,” You grinned, “You just finished your session today?”

“Yeah… You?”

“Just got here,” You cocked your head in the direction of the entrance, “Running a little late, though. But it’s really nice seeing you. See you around!”

“Yeah, yeah, see you around.” His voice fell to a whisper by the time you entered the building. It all happened so fast, not a second was offered for him to just… digest whatever just happened.

You saw each other again a week later, greeting each other in a rush once again as it was Jeff who was running late to his session. By the time you bumped into each other again the third time, you realized your sessions aligned.

Every Thursday, with Jeff's usually an hour before yours.

You had different therapists, though, with Jeff's specializing in his past mistakes and yours highlighting the uncertainties for your future.

The first month of your reunion was nothing more than a quick chat in the waiting room or by the smoking area outside the clinic, with none of you dared to ask about the other's issue—the immediate sign of trust and comfort.

Mustering the sheer courage to ask you out for coffee at a nearby café was hard, asking a particular question was harder, largely because he wanted to word it right.

“You weren't like, scared?” He approached the topic ever so slowly upon questioning your decision to try therapy.

“I'd be lying if I said I wasn't,” You shrugged, swirling your cup, “Trust me, it took me a while. But I wasn't really getting somewhere, just thinking about it. I mean, having nightmares about being in a plane crash is one thing, who's to say there won't be a crazier, more traumatising thing than that in the future?”

He chuckled—he learned you had a knack for lightening up the mood for a topic you were still recovering from.

But he also wanted to know one more thing. An embarrassing thought, but like you said; he wouldn't be going anywhere if he didn't at least voice it out.

“And you don't think it's a little weird to see me going to one? And me looking like this?” He motioned to himself from head to toe with a quirk of his brow. He didn't mean it in an egotistical way, not by any means. But he'd be lying to both you and himself to say he wanted to flee when he saw you after over a decade.

“To be honest, I was kinda surprised you even recognized me at the centre.” He continued, the corner of his lips quirking half-heartedly.

“Jeff,” You said his name with a chuckle, and boy, was it the sweetest sound he had ever heard, “It’s the 21st century. If anything, I think you’re real brave for…” You motioned your hands around, hoping to find the right words, “Y’know, breaking the norm. Putting your fear and ego aside for potentially positive life-changing advice. And besides, I can’t forget a cute face.”

Oh.

Ever since the bashful look growing on his face as he stared into his drink, you made it a point to compliment him often. Each is as genuine as the last.

“Hey, we're scared of things we might not be aware of. Scared of making mistakes, whether we've done it before or not. But at least we know we're going through some shit. If anything, I'm a little more confident going to therapy, knowing that a familiar face is going there, too,” It was impossible not to mirror the smile on your face, albeit, yours more comforting than his, “We'll get through it. Together.”

You meant it platonically.

He knew that you meant it platonically.

And yet, none of you could help it.

It took a while to make your feelings explicitly known to each other, largely because both of you wanted to be better before taking the big leap.

Your first true date, funnily enough, wasn't at your usual café. Much less of the milky coffee he'd get or the watered-down iced drink you'd opt for. Rather, he brought you to a quaint diner he had frequented during the last few months of his crumbling marriage with Shauna.

“Sorry about your divorce.” Somehow, Shauna became the subject in hand, but not in an awkward way.

“You didn’t even like her.” His tone wasn't accusatory but more so a lighthearted fact, paired with a knowing smile.

“You’re right, I didn’t,” You responded with little to zero regrets, and so was the look on your face, “But you did. Love ain't easy to brush off.”

You were truthful yet considerate, if that made sense.

He knew that someday, the diner would play a big part in his life, even after he became a bachelor. It was one of the places he sought after if the house felt too stuffy, too awkward to be even in the same building as his ex-wife. Too many thoughts about her disloyalty, and soon enough, his own when he was a teen.

He wants to be better. He always has since he and Shauna became a thing, when he became a husband, and he held onto that hope for too long, even when he saw that the relationship was hanging onto a thread.

It was bound to happen. It was karma. It was the universe coming back to bite him in the ass, and he accepted it.

But it was over. It was like a total reset, as if life was finally giving him the chance to be good.

And he will, as he always has for years.

With the weekend rolling around, he didn't have to worry about closing his store in a rush to head over to your place. Not once has he ever come over empty-handed, especially with takeouts that would leave you with leftovers for the morning after.

This time, he found you just about to carry a big box.

“Whoop, whoop, hey. Hang on,” He tried to get your attention, picking up the pace without the risk of dropping the sets of lunch he had bought, “Let me get that for you.”

“I can handle it.” You reassured, hands still holding the box but not lifted just yet.

“Nope. I'm not moving until you put it down.” He was dead set on helping you, standing in the middle of the walkway with a supposedly serious look. Still, you giggled—if he had dog ears, they would've definitely drooped.

You fondly rolled your eyes, “Okay, okay. At least let me hold the food?”

He relented, knowing he couldn't say no with the way you fluttered your lashes at him. He passed the bag of food to you so he could easily carry the box, but not before making a show by puffing his chest to hear your irresistible laugh.

As if that wasn't enough to make his heart flutter, you pressed your lips against his cheek, pulling back with a little ‘smooch’. A flush of embarrassment rose to his cheeks, and before he even realized it, a goofy smile made its way to his face.

“Thank you. One of these days, I'll make it up for your chivalry.”

“I mean,” He was almost too shy to meet your gaze. Almost, “I won't say no to your kisses. They're kinda nice”

He wanted to sound as nonchalant as possible, but he wasn't fooling anybody, and it showed when you playfully pouted.

“Just ‘kinda nice’?”

He huffed in amusement, and he didn't let himself mull over his own doubts when he quickly pecked your cheek, breaking away just as quickly before you could even enjoy his soft lips.

“They're very nice.” He corrected, more confident and relaxed than before.

You weren't certain how long you'd been staring into each other’s eyes before you responded.

“Good, because I enjoy your pretty little kisses, too,” The stiffness in his shoulders had visibly eased. There was no way you could stop yourself from planting another one, this time, tiptoeing to kiss the tip of his nose.

“Plus,” You turned around, heading to the door while speaking over your shoulders, “I have plenty.”

That seemed to have snapped him out of his moment of enjoyment, though the grin that you loved remained. He immediately jogged up to you when you held the door for him.

Only to catch you by surprise by stealing another kiss before casually walking off to your living room with the box.

“I'm putting this on the table!”

You were elated to hear the excitement in his voice. An indication that whatever you and Jeff were having from this moment on…

Was just the beginning.

˚ · . f i n . · ˚

Bonus:

If you're like me who's obsessed with aquariums, then I come bearing an extra!

Though your home was a lot smaller than Jeff’s, be it a one-storey house or a high-rise, it was also full of life. Thoughts and time were made into your decision-making in your decorations, not only to make your sanctuary pleasing to the eye but also, well, a sanctuary. A place where you sought comfort and safety. There has never been a day where he’s greeted with an environment of eerie silence; a funky jazz song played at low volume, random news playing on the TV, or just you humming a tune—an indication of a good day—there’s always a sign in your home that practically said; ‘this house breathes life’.

But after a rare busy day at the furniture store, he comes over at night.

With the extra key you gave him, he opens the door. No TV, no radio, not even a hum. But you did call him over from the living room.

“In here!” Blue light illuminates from said room, and Jeff’s come over long enough to know it wasn’t any of your usual lamps, and paired with the sounds of water continuously running, he had a hunch of what it was.

Still, nothing could’ve prepared for the sight before him.

He has seen your reef tank plenty of times, shallow and at a length that was almost half the size of the room, placed against the wall and away from the window. Granted, he’s only seen during the daytime, so he had never gotten the chance to enjoy the beauty of it at night. Plus, you had talked about how the tank, minus the fish, could survive with light and plankton alone, but you just liked to put some effort into something you loved.

Like today.

The corals and reefs were almost neon under the singular blue light—the only source of light at that moment. The gobies and harlequin shrimps seemed more active than what he was used to, especially with you feeding the ecosystem coral food with a turkey baster. Poised and calculated, no doubt this wasn’t your first rodeo.

“Hey,” You glanced up at him, eyes brighter and lit up under the unnatural light, “I’m almost done. We can eat in a bit if you don’t mind. Turn the TV on, if you want.”

He didn’t. He didn’t even glance at the remote, too focused on the lively set of life, all in the good hands of the person he couldn’t keep his eyes off of, such as now.

“Wanna help me out?” He blinked, too entranced that he didn’t even notice your head tilting up at him, and with a look like that, how could he say no?

He was extra careful, dipping the end of the baster close to a coral, the palythoas, only to express his amazement as the mouths began to close, capturing its food the way Venus flytraps would. The gobies, too, approached little by little, eager to be fed by the gentle stranger. You were glad that you weren’t even halfway into the feeding before he arrived, enjoying how happy he was to do honours.

The small space between the two of you grew little by little before there was none. Shoulder to shoulder before the two of you practically stayed glued to one another, watching over the ecosystem and pointing at almost anything and everything that was remotely happening in the tank. None of you were even sure when Jeff had his arms wrapped around you after they were all well-fed, but what both of you did know was that you stayed in each other’s arms for a long time.

a/n: they are so fucking cute together that I hate them.

a/n ii: don't let this puppy dog-eyed man fool you. you know damn well he's a freak in bed. we've seen it ;; gorgeous rose divider by @firefly-graphics ♡

#— reve's reverie 🌹#— reve's asks 🌹#jeff sadecki #jeff sadecki x reader #jeff sadecki x f!reader #jeff sadecki x female reader #jeff sadecki x you #warren kole #warren kole x reader #yellowjackets #yellowjackets x reader #yellowjackets x f!reader #yellowjackets x you

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brbsoulnomming · 1 year ago

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Tell Me Sweet Little Lies Part 9

-----

Eddie's not sure how long he's been sitting there when the sound of footsteps approaching breaks through, and he hears Steve's quiet little, "hey."

"They pick you to go check on the new guy, make sure I'm not freaking out?" Eddie asks without looking up.

"Are you freaking out?"

Eddie doesn't know. He's not sure why it's this, of all things, that has made him need to step back - he likes to think he's been handling all this Upside Down shit pretty damn well so far, aside from the running and cursing and panicking. It doesn't make sense that this is the thing that finally makes the buzzing in his chest grow too loud.

"Thank you," he says instead of answering. "You didn't - you didn't have to do that."

He thinks Steve might point out that yeah, he kind of did, that they have a world to save and they can't do that if the noble minded citizens of Hawkins are determined to hunt down a party member and thwart their efforts.

"I know," Steve says instead, and that makes Eddie look up at him.

Steve shrugs one shoulder. "None of us have to do any of this, you know? There's like, a hundred moments that every one of us could have said nah, fuck this. But we all chose to be in this, to keep going."

"Not me," Eddie says, even as his brain is telling him to shut the hell up and let the cute boy keep saying us like Eddie chose to be a part of this. Like he isn't a coward riding on all of their coattails. "I run, Steve, that's what I do. You think if I had any real choice, if I had anywhere else to go, I wouldn't be gone already?"

Steve wrinkles his nose at him. "What was it that you said Dustin was asking you to do? Come with us to Mordor? Pretty sure I heard you say yes."

"Yeah, because the Shire was burning!" he says. "Not exactly a great choice, to stay with the Hobbits and burn or follow the Fellowship into Mordor."

Steve gives him a crooked smile and a steely little gaze. "No one stays in a burning building, Eds, that's not a real comparison."

His throat works as he tries to swallow without swallowing his tongue, and he tries very hard to focus on what Steve is saying and not on exactly how Eds makes him feel.

"There's three kinds of people when somewhere's burning - there's the ones that started it, the ones trying to stop it, and the ones getting as far away from the first two as possible. You had plenty of options to be the last, but you picked the second."

"What options?" he demands, aware that he's sounding a little hysterical. "No car, no money, no where to go, cops and crazy townies looking for me, what else was I supposed to do?"

Steve rolls his eyes. "Yeah, sure, fine, when you were alone. But then you had us. You could have asked us to call your uncle to bail you out, you could have asked to be dropped off out of town, hell, you could have stolen the camper and said all right, this is your stop, see you guys later."

Eddie rears back, stung. "You think I'd do that? That I'd just take the camper and leave you guys all to it?"

Steve throws up his hands, exasperated, and Eddie feels a flare of concern when he notices the way Steve's eyes tighten in pain before he lowers them down.

"No!" Steve protests before Eddie can say anything about it. "Of course I don't, that's exactly my point! You could have left us, but you didn't. You made that choice."

Eddie's jaw snaps shut with an audible click as he realizes that he can't protest both things - can't insist that of course he never would have left them and say that he'd be gone if he had any real choice in the matter.

"Fuck you, Harrington," he says instead, aware that he sounds mulish and defensive but unable to stop himself. "It doesn't really count as options if all of them are bad."

Steve looks at him, unimpressed. "Now you're just moving the goalposts."

It's Eddie's turn to roll his eyes at that. "Stop making everything about sports."

"I will when you all stop making everything about Dungeons and Dragons," he replies without missing a beat, then drops down to sit next to him. "Give yourself a break. You're not the only one who's ever run."

Eddie snorts. "Yeah? Who?"

"Me."

Eddie turns sharply, but Steve isn't looking at him, staring out into the woods instead.

"You?" Eddie demands. "Mister I have to be the one to jump in the creepy lake to find the gate to hell for nonsense reasons?"

"They weren't nonsense," Steve protests. "And yeah, come on. I know you thought I was a douchebag before all of this, how are you surprised?"

"I never said douchebag," Eddie mutters, as if that's the point.

"I was a douchebag. So yeah, I ran." He pushes his hand through his hair. "I went to Jonathan's, when he and Nancy were trying to lure a demogorgon in to take it out. Had no idea what the fuck was going on, only that there were weapons everywhere and they were both bleeding and Nance pointed a gun at me. One of those things showed up, and they freaked, and I freaked, and they told me to get the hell out, and I did."

Eddie can't stop staring at him, and Steve has to notice, but he just keeps looking out into the woods.

"Made it as far as my car, freaking out so bad I dropped my keys, and then I looked back at the house and saw the lights flashing and I knew they were both in there, and…"

He trails off.

"And the paladin was born," Eddie murmurs.

That makes Steve look at him, finally, brows furrowed. "Come on, man, no. Dustin's been trying that, he says he's still got a sheet for one of them all worked up for me. I'm not playing any time soon."

Eddie waves a hand. "Not a character, Steve, I'm talking about real life. You're a real life paladin."

Steve lets out a little huff. "Whatever. The point is, I ran the first time, too. And I ran after - I tried to put it all behind me, to pretend like it was over and done with and we could just move on. It wasn't until later that I realized I wasn't ever going to be able to just step aside." He gives a wry little laugh, a roll of his eyes. "Not when this crew's determined to never stay on the bench."

"So you just. Always put yourself between danger and whoever it's coming for?"

Steve frowns at him. "Well, yeah. Someone's gotta protect all these little shits when they go barreling into trouble, and as long as I have a say in it, that someone's gonna be me."

Eddie groans. "You're making it really hard for me not to point out the paladin similarities, Harrington."

"Shut up," Steve says, giving him a little shove, but he doesn't sound like he actually minds it. "I'm not a - whatever."

"No? You're not a white knight, charging into battle to protect women and children and one dumbass freak in the wrong place at the wrong time?" Eddie drops out of his crouch, landing with his ass on the grass as he leans back to bat his eyelashes at Steve. "Come on, Steve, take a little credit for being our hero, you know you want to."

"You're so ridiculous." Steve rolls his eyes. "It's just better me than them."

And Eddie - he's not sure he likes that. Robin's he does this every time echoes in his mind, and his eyes narrow as he searches Steve's expression. "Fuck, is this some self sacrificial bullshit? Do you just have a death wish?"

"It's not like that. Trust me, I'm not looking to sacrifice myself, and I'm really not eager to kick the bucket before I'm twenty. It's just…"

There's no sting of writing on his skin. Eddie chooses to believe that means it's not a lie, for the sake of his own sanity, and he stays quiet while he lets Steve figure out how to explain what it's just.

"It's just when you're making a play, you have to be tactical about it, right? You have to think about your opposition, know what the other team's bringing to the game. You have to take everyone on your team into account - what are their skills and strong points, what are their weaknesses, who do you play together so they cover each other. I know what my strengths are. I know what I bring into this team and what I don't, and right now? I'm our heavy-hitter. I can dish it out, and I can take a hit better than anyone else here."

He does this every time.

Eddie wants to protest, to demand to know why it always has to be Steve, but he remembers the quiet resignation in Robin's voice, and he gets the feeling it's a conversation they've already had. Not that that would necessarily stop him from repeating it, of course, but - he doesn't really know how to counter that. Steve hadn't sounded self depreciating, hadn't sounded like he thinks he's worth less than everyone else here - though Eddie's not sure that isn't mixed in there, somewhere. He'd just… sounded practical.

Strategy. No different from when he was captain of whatever the hell sport he was playing at the time, this is what I'm good at, this is what I do.

"You're good at this, aren't you?" Eddie asks slowly.

Steve quirks a wry smile. "Good at getting beat up and still going? Yeah, I've had some practice."

Eddie shakes his head. "No, good at this. Strategizing. Thinking about people's strengths and weaknesses and how to make them work together."

"Oh. I mean, yeah, I guess I'm okay? Not strategizing like-" He waves a hand at the other side of the camper, back where Eddie assumes everyone else is still moving forward with things. "But I've always been good at the people thing. Rob likes to remind me of that, tells me to use it for good."

Like today. Eddie's throat clicks as he swallows, looking at Steve. "What would you do, against Vecna?"

Steve looks thrown, like he has no idea how this conversation got here and what he's supposed to do with it now.

Eddie knows the feeling.

"We already did the only thing I wanted to add to it," Steve says.

"Not add," Eddie says. "Forget our current plan, okay? Clean slate. New, uh. New play, new game, same opponent."

Part of Eddie wants to die a little at the words that just came out of his mouth. The bigger part wants to die even more at the begrudging realization that they could fit a campaign just as easily as they could a sports game.

But the biggest part wants to see where this is going. Wants to poke and prod at Steve, to make him think in a way that it sounds like everyone in this party except Robin has been overlooking.

It's one of his favorite things about DMing. Watching what his players come up with, nudging and encouraging them, and being absolutely gobsmacked by their creativity and strategy.

Steve actually looks like he's considering it, like he's not just brushing Eddie off. "I'd still do Nance's plan," he says finally. Then, almost reluctantly, he adds, "But I'd wait."

"You'd wait?" Eddie prompts.

"Yeah. I'd stall as long as we could. I figure the longer it goes, the more desperate - or at least irritated - Vecna gets, maybe he'll slip up, make some mistakes. But mostly I'd stall as long as we could for El."

"Who's El?"

Steve smiles, bittersweet. "El's a great kid with too much on her shoulders. But in all this? She's our real heavy-hitter. She's major league, and I'm back playing t-ball."

Eddie leans forward, starting to see the shape of things. He can see why the little shits keep using D&D terminology to explain what's going on. It's a campaign, he reminds himself, and if he keeps thinking of it like that, it's not as terrifying. "How do you stall?"

"What? El doesn't even have her powers anymore!"

Eddie startles at the interruption, heart pounding and nerves on edge - out of the corner of his eye, he sees Steve do the same, hand jerking to the ground like he's reaching for a weapon he doesn't have.

"Don't do that!" Steve demands, even as he's already relaxing.

It's Henderson, Eddie knows that before he even turns to see that he and Robin have come around to their little side of the camper - he recognizes that tone exactly from their campaigns, when the little butthead is protesting another player's plan of action.

Eddie shoots him an icy, pointed glare - also exactly the same as he would do if someone had interrupted him in the middle of a session.

Dustin glances back and forth between them, withering at the combined force of both of their unimpressed expressions. "Not that I'm saying it's a bad idea. Just! I need a little more info here, okay?"

"It's not about her powers, not exactly. It's-" Steve makes a frustrated noise, and looks over at Robin, doing something complicated with his expression.

Robin immediately takes over. "Max doesn't have powers, right? But we're letting her go up against Vecna in her mind anyway, because she's the best equipped to handle it."

Steve snaps his fingers. "Yes! El has the most experience with the lab and the Upside Down. She's got the home team advantage, and she's used to bopping around in people's minds. Her and Will would be even better. We stand a better chance with them."

Dustin's looking at Steve in a way that Eddie recognizes, just a little - a dimmer echo of the way he'd always lit up when he insisted that Steve was a badass. "Okay," he says, dropping down to sit next to them. "How would you stall?"

Steve looks back and forth between Eddie and Robin. "I'd talk to Max. See how she's feeling, how strong Vecna is, if the tape's getting weaker, how long she thinks it can last. If she can sense any changes in Vecna. We keep checking in, keep it up as long as we can, and have her try to get a message to El."

"I'm in," Max says, plopping down to wedge herself into their group.

Eddie only screams a little.

Steve looks at her, his absolutely not face already in full swing.

"Don't look at me like that, this is your plan," she tells him.

"Hypothetical! This is all hypothetical!" Steve makes a chopping motion with his hand, like he's cutting it off there. "Max, the longer we wait, the more danger you're in."

She gives him the most unimpressed look that Eddie's ever seen. "Yeah, I'm pretty sure I'm going to be the most in danger by inviting him into my head to chase me around and hope I can hide well enough for you guys to kill him before he kills me. I'd much rather have El here for all of that, thanks."

If Eddie didn't know better, he'd think he saw the faintest wobble in her eyes, or maybe her tone.

Steve goes the softest that Eddie's ever seen him. "Maxie," he starts.

She kicks his knee before he can get more than that out.

"Hey!" he yelps. "Fine, whatever, okay, but we need everyone to agree. And you have to promise me that you'll tell us the truth about how you're feeling. We have to know any change, and I mean any change."

"I promise," she agrees easily.

Dustin, Robin, and Steve all share a glance. Eddie's - not actually sure how they manage it, but it makes Max huff in irritation.

"I promise. You can even use stalker as a lie detector." She jerks her head back towards the other side of the camper. There's a moment of silence, then she rolls her eyes. "I don't care if Munson knows who my soulmates are."

Soulmates, plural, and she already knows who they are? Eddie's stomach clenches a little, wondering once again what these kids have gone through that was so intense that Max'd found her soulmates before she even hit high school.

"So how do I send a message to El?" Max asks.

Steve rubs a hand over his jaw, pinching the bridge of his nose. "All right, let's get everyone back together, then."

They catch Nancy, Lucas, and Erica up in quick, terse sentences - Nancy looks irritated at the suggestion of delaying the plan, and Lucas keeps shooting little worried glances at Max, like he wants to protest, too, but knows Max well enough to know it won't do much if she's set her mind to it.

"I promise to let you guys know the second there's any change, and to answer any question you ask about it directly and immediately," Max dutifully repeats after some prompting.

Only then does Lucas relax.

"Come on, Steve, how do I get a message to El?" she asks again.

Steve quirks a little smile. "You tell us a lie."

There's a second before Eddie figures out what he's saying, and then he's pretty sure he stops breathing.

"You say something like 'I don't want to tell my soulmate that an evil clock obsessed wizard is out to get me, and I don't want her and her brothers to get their asses back to Hawkins immediately.'"

Dimly, Eddie hears a round of sharp inhales, and he's pretty sure he's not the only one staring at Steve anymore.

"Holy shit, Steve," Dustin says, sounding impressed.

"You sure that'll work?" Nancy asks.

"Yeah," Steve says. "I used to do it with my soulmate all the time when we were younger, so, uh. Technically you can thank them for the idea."

It's him, fuck. It has to be. His soulmate has to be Steve, there's no other -

"Yeah," Robin agrees, spreading her hands like me too.

And all right, okay, so Eddie wasn't the only one to think of trying to talk to his soulmate like that, he kind of figured that. But this is still way too many coincidences, shit, there's no way his soulmate isn't Steve goddamn Harrington, and what is he supposed to do with that?

Still, at least Robin solved his problem of how to agree with Steve without making it obvious that he might be Steve's soulmate.

"Me too," he manages to say. "It'll work."

Max nods, jaw working as she thinks for a moment - then her gaze shoots over to Lucas. He scoots over to sit next to her, and she barely has time to look back at Steve before Steve's dropped down to sit in front of her. Dustin takes up a spot on her other side at the same time, and she lets out a slow exhale.

The three of them were with her when she - when Vecna tried to get to her, Eddie remembers, and he fidgets with his rings to hide the way his hands shake as he tries not to think of how Chrissy'd looked right before she died.

"It helps if you're having a conversation with someone, and you think about your phrasing and say things you know are lies," Steve offers.

Exactly like Eddie'd pictured his soulmate doing. Yeah, fuck, okay, that's a great way to think about something else, but not something he really wants to think about, either.

"So, Mad Max!" Dustin says brightly. "How's your day going?"

"I'm not in danger," Max responds, which - blunt, yup, that should do it, even if it makes Eddie wince.

"Yeah, what's there to be in danger from?" Lucas asks.

"I'm not being targeted by something from the Upside Down."

"That's good, because how would we stop something like that?" Steve chimes in.

"We don't think we know his plan," Max says, then her eyes close. "I don't need my soulmates. I don't want El to come back to me, right now."

They all pretend they don't hear the tremor of emotion in her voice.

There's a tense silence for a little while.

"It took a little while for me to be able to respond, if I wasn't expecting it," Robin says, low and anxious. "I mean - I didn't respond much, because it freaked me out, but when I did."

"Same," Eddie says. "I sprung it on mine probably too much, and I usually didn't get an answer right away."

He doesn't look at Steve. Then he realizes - shit, he can't make it obvious he's not looking at Steve, so he darts his gaze over to him.

Steve only has eyes for Max, though, and Eddie feels a little bit relieved.

Eventually, Max jolts, and rolls down her sock. Scrawled across her ankle is I don't have my powers back. I don't think my soulmate should wait. I'm not coming.

So they wait.

Taglist (hopefully I got everyone, and always happy to add more!): @vampireinthesun @koibug @estrellami-1 @mentalcyborg @allbimyself26 @questionablequeeries @the-s-is-silent @whimsicalwitchm @a-gae-af-racoon @tinyplanet95 @n0-1-important @velocitytimes2 @swimmingbirdrunningrock @newtstabber @jcmadgirl @roblingoblin285 @lexyvey @paperbackribs @goodolefashionedloverboi @evix-syne666 @raisedbylibrarians @stxrcrossed186 @nightmareglitter @greekgeek24 @starman-jpg @crazyhatlady86 @affablevixen @imfinereallyy @manda-panda-monium @deleataecount @prideandsensibility @chaoticvictorianspirit @maydillydally @disrespectedgoatman @scarlet-malfoy @i-less-than-three-you @hbyrde36 @hallucinatedjosten @dragonsandgayships @arepaconchocolate @g4ys0n @novelnovella @bisexualdisastersworld @ghostofyourvampiregf @scarletyeager @pettrichore @nerd-and-nervous @hiimlevi @queenie-ofthe-void @cinnamon-mushroomabomination

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Part 10

#steddie #steddie fic #steve harrington #eddie munson #dustin henderson #robin buckley #max mayfield #lucas sinclair #erica sinclair #nancy Wheeler #platonic soulmates stobin #steddie soulmates au #soulmates au #lumax

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misc-obeyme · 1 year ago

Note

hello !! may i ask lost with solomon 😔💍

Hi there, anon!

Okay, so it's fluffy Solomon hours on my blog again with this one. Just in case anyone wasn't already aware, I am in love with him. I always write him in the Nightbringer timeline, too. I think it's because there's more opportunity for fluff when MC lives with him lol.

Thanks for the request!

GN!MC x Solomon with prompt Lost

Warnings: none!

It was a cold day in the Devildom, the wind thrashing against the windows, the cloudy sky threatening rain. Solomon didn't want to go out in that weather, of course, but he really saw no way around it. He needed some potion ingredients and he really couldn't delay getting them.

Well, if he was going to go out, he had better dress warmly. He made sure to wear his trench coat, long and thick enough to help with the wind, as well as a thick pair of socks. He tucked some gloves in his pocket just in case, though he might not need them. Then he rummaged around the coat closet, looking for his scarf.

Solomon pushed aside various jackets and things, looking for the scarf that normally sat on the high shelf in the closet. It wasn't there. Had he lost it?

Solomon thought about it for a minute and found he couldn't even remember when he last wore it. You had complained about its hideous pattern, so he made sure not to wear it around you too much. But it still had to be in Cocytus Hall somewhere, right?

He sighed and cast a little tracer spell. If the scarf was in the house, he would be able to locate it this way.

The spell manifested for only a brief moment before dying out. It did not lead him anywhere, indicating that his scarf was not actually in the hall anywhere.

Well, he had tried. He wondered briefly if you had tossed it because you thought it was so ugly. The thought made him chuckle. Either that or it was lost for good. It didn't matter too much. He could always buy himself a new one. Perhaps he had better let you pick it out for him, just so he didn't have to worry about accidentally choosing a pattern you didn't like.

Solomon set out into the blustery weather, the wind pushing his silver hair all over the place. He managed to get everything he needed fairly quickly. Checking the time, he realized it was about when you normally started home for Cocytus Hall. He decided to surprise you by waiting for you outside the House of Lamentation.

Solomon watched as you waved goodbye to the demon brothers on your way out the door. You pulled your own jacket closer to yourself in the chill, the wind clearly making it slightly difficult for you to walk.

As you got closer to where he stood, you saw him and smiled. Solomon smiled back, but then he noticed something. A hint of color around your neck… was that…?

"What are you doing out here?" you asked him.

He focused his gaze back on your eyes. "I happened to be out already and I thought I'd stop by to pick you up."

You shivered a little. "You came out in this weather? It's going to rain soon, I think."

Solomon cocked his head, his smile becoming teasing as he looked at you. "Is that why you stole my horrible scarf? I was looking everywhere for it."

Solomon was rewarded by the blush that rushed to your cheeks. Your fingers brushed the fabric of the scarf that was tied around your neck and tucked into your jacket. "I couldn't find mine," you said, frowning.

Solomon chuckled. "And here I thought maybe you finally threw it away when I wasn't looking. How did you describe it again? Ghastly?"

You folded your arms. "I stand by it. This thing is truly offensive. But it was the only option."

Solomon couldn't resist tugging it out of your jacket, revealing the bright clashing colors of it, a sort of argyle combined with paisley that he had to admit was rather unsightly. He used it to pull you closer to him. "It's all right, MC. You're welcome to use my scarf any time, though I think I'll do a better job of keeping you warm myself."

Solomon laughed gently as the expression on your face revealed just how silly you thought this line was. You laughed, too, and let him pull you into his arms. "You're welcome to try, magic man."

Solomon couldn't keep the grin off his face and both of you laughed into the kiss you shared before starting off toward home.

the original prompt list

masterlist | Thank you for reading!

#obey me #obey me shall we date #obey me nightbringer #obey me fluff #obey me fanfiction #obey me fanfic #obey me solomon #obey me solomon x reader #obey me solomon x mc #solomon x reader #solomon x mc #anon request #misc writes

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mysticstarlightduck · 3 months ago

Text

OC Explain!

Hopping on this open tag by @oh-no-another-idea (here)!

Imma go with Liam Steele and Dylan Millihan from What Lurks In The Hollow because that WIP is my new obsession/hyperfixation lmao

Okay, here we go!

LIAM STEELE

✨ Image ✨

✨ Song ✨

Break Stuff - Limp Bizkit

It's just one of those days when you don't wanna wake up Everything is fucked, everybody sucks You don't really know why, but you wanna justify Rippin' someone's head off No human contact, and if you interact Your life is on contract Your best bet is to stay away, motherfucker! It's just one of those days It's all about the he says/she says bullshit I think you better quit lettin' shit slip Or you'll be leavin' with a fat lip It's all about the he says/she says bullshit I think you better quit talkin' that shit

overwhelmed - Royal & The Serpent

What am I feeling? Can't look at the ceiling The light is so bright It's like I'm overheating This mind isn't mine Who am I to judge? Oh I should be fine But it's all too much I get overwhelmed so easily My anxiety creeps inside of me Makes it hard to breathe What's come over me Feels like I'm somebody else I get overwhelmed so easily My anxiety keeps me silent When I try to speak What's come over me Feels like I'm somebody else I get overwhelmed All of these faces Who don't know what space is And crowds are shut down

✨ Quote ✨

Liam fidgeted with his charm bracelet for a moment, in a compulsive, anxious rhythm, before taking a deep breath and closing his hands into fists, glaring at the bullies cluttering the street. "I don't think any of you motherfuckers heard me right, so Imma repeat myself - if you don't let go of that damn kid and get the fuck out of my way, I swear to fucking God I will bash your heads on the curb" He gave them a sharp, almost condescending smile, "And that's mostly because you're making me late for the arcade and I don't like that. Does that sound all good or do you need any more goddamn details?"

DYLAN MILLIHAN

✨ Image ✨

✨ Song ✨

Breakaway - Kelly Clarkson

Grew up in a small town And when the rain would fall down I'd just stare out my window Dreaming of what could be And if I'd end up happy I would pray Trying hard to reach out But when I tried to speak out Felt like no one could hear me Wanted to belong here But something felt so wrong here So I prayed I could breakaway I'll spread my wings and I'll learn how to fly I'll do what it takes till I touch the sky And I'll make a wish, take a chance, make a change And breakaway

Fast Car - Tracy Chapman/Luke Combs

You got a fast car I want a ticket to anywhere Maybe we make a deal Maybe together we can get somewhere Any place is better Starting from zero got nothing to lose Maybe we'll make something Me, myself, I got nothing to prove You got a fast car I got a plan to get us outta here I been working at the convenience store Managed to save just a little bit of money Won't have to drive too far Just 'cross the border and into the city You and I can both get jobs And finally see what it means to be living ... So I remember when we were driving, driving in your car Speed so fast it felt like I was drunk City lights lay out before us And your arm felt nice wrapped 'round my shoulder And I-I had a feeling that I belonged I-I had a feeling I could be someone, be someone, be someone

✨ Quote ✨

"Look, none of us asked for this. But whether we like it or not, we're siblings and we're stuck together. More than ever, unfortunately, as much as I loathe to admit it. So we need to make this" He gestures around them, gaze lingering at the, well, still quite decrepit living room of the house, before settling back on Amy, "work out for us, somehow. And we need to stop being at each other's throats all the time - which, by the way, um, I'm..." It seemed physically difficult for him to say the words that were stuck in his throat, but eventually, he sighed and droned out the phrase, earnestly "...sorry for all the stuff I said. I was just really tired and angry, but I shouldn't have said all of that. None of this mess is your fault, and I don't think you're a bad sister, like at all. You're a great kiddo."

Dylan paused unsure of what to say next, but when he noticed that Amy wasn't frowning or sulking anymore but actually smiling softly in agreement, his uneasiness seemed to fade into what could almost be a smile too. "Anyways, let's cut the emotional crap before I feel sick to my stomach more than I already feel. Do you want some more cereal?"

Tagging (gently): @sleepy-night-child, @kaylinalexanderbooks, @smol-feralgremlin, @wyked-ao3, @topazadine @littleladymab,

@winterandwords, @eccaiia, @sarahlizziewrites, @illarian-rambling

@agirlandherquill, @anoelleart, @ray-writes-n-shit

@writernopal, @anyablackwood, @unstablewifiaccess, @forthesanityofstorytellers

@i-can-even-burn-salad, @cakeinthevoid @thecomfywriter

@thepeculiarbird, @clairelsonao3, @memento-morri-writes, @starlit-hopes-and-dreams @amaiguri

@cherrychiplip @thecomfywriter @thelovelymachinery @bookwormclover

@differentnighttale, @leahnardo-da-veggie

#wip what lurks in the hollow #oc explain tag #writing #writeblr #writers on tumblr #writerblr #writers #character writing #my wips #my characters #my writing #urban fantasy #midwest gothic #retrowave horror

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mostmagical · 1 year ago

Text

Green & Red & Black

my mind has been inundated with misternette thanks to @spicysummer22's art (go LOOK) so I promised I'd write a fic

fits in canon somewhere between Passion and Elation

Ao3

Lady Noire touched down to the street, the miraculous on her finger ringing only more desperate by the second. Hurriedly, she flung herself into the alleyway with only a single cursory glance to ensure she was alone.

“Claws in,” she huffed, her transformation melting over her shortly after.

Plagg groaned despondently as she caught him in her hands. The swap had been last minute and unexpected, being that their fight with Safari had only been a few days prior. She would have thought Monarch would have come up with a better half-baked plan after that defeat, knowing she and her kitty would always figure out a way to beat him.

“Sorry, Plagg,” Marinette sighed. “I only have a strawberry macaron. Is that okay?”

He opened one green crescent eye to look at her, remaining spread eagle in her palm. “I guess it’ll do,” he agreed.

Marinette smiled and fished the snack out of her purse.

“Eat up.”

She couldn’t believe her luck. Her cataclysm had missed early on, and the battle continued. The bad timing had forced her to duck away before Chat– er, Mister Bug could even call for his lucky charm. Hopefully, he was managing out there okay on his own.

She would never forgive herself if anything happened to his pretty face while she was gone.

Plagg was taking his sweet time biting into the macaron, all the while dribbling crumbs all over her hand. It was as though the little cat kwami had no sense of urgency anywhere in his tiny body. Marinette tapped her foot impatiently.

“Can you hurry?” she worriedly asked, peeking out of the alleyway and into the open street. It was too quiet.

“I’m going as fast as I can, Pigtails,” Plagg replied with a roll of his eyes. “I swear, you kids have no idea how to savor your food.”

“Time and place, Plagg.”

“Yeah, yeah…”

Marinette cast another distracted glance out into the street. “I’m just worried about him,” she said, chewing on her lip.

“I get it,” Plagg replied around a mouthful of macaron. He made a loud gulping sound as he swallowed. “But he’s smart, you know. He can take care of himself just like you can take care of yourself.”

“Sure, sure…” She waved at him with her free hand, no longer fully listening as the air became stiller.

“Actually,” Plagg continued, chewing thoughtfully, “why are you worried about him? Since when do you–” His eyes went wide, and his chewing halted. He groaned. “Tikki wasn’t joking. It’s you, too.”

Marinette wrenched her eyes away from the street, narrowing them instead at the little cat kwami in her hands. “Me too, what?” Her face wrinkled in confusion.

Plagg opened his mouth to speak, but before he could get anything out, a wave of ladybugs passed over them.

Oh. He did it…

Marinette felt a swell of pride fill her chest for her partner. He was getting better and better at wearing her earrings. Maybe they should plan to swap every once in a while. And not just because she wanted to see him in her colors more often.

(Okay, maybe it was a little of that.)

“See?” Plagg smiled, his tiny arms placed on his hips in pride. “I told you he was fine.”

Marinette giggled at his display. She reached out her pointer finger to give him a scratch between the ears, earning herself a quiet purr. “Yes, you did,” she said. “We better get back out there to swap miraculouses again. Claws–”

“M’Lady!”

A tumble of red and black crashed into her, throwing her body hurtling towards the ground with a grunt. Marinette braced for impact, but there was none. Instead she found herself suspended in the air by two strong hands clasped around both her wrists. Slowly, she opened her screwed-shut eyes to green.

Mister Bug stared down at her, his mouth dropped open in a gasp.

“Ma-Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” he stuttered. (Since when does Chat Noir stutter…?)

Marinette tried to speak, but nothing came out. She could only vigorously nod her assent. Yes, that was her name, but she would have answered to anything he called her, surely.

At her silence, Mister Bug took notice of her position, still hanging in the air by her arms. With a worried breath of air, he pulled her up, one of his hands landing on her waist and sending fire up her spine.

“I’m so sorry. Are you okay?” he fussed. His green eyes roved over her body as if checking for any scratches, despite the fact that he had saved her from feeling even a brush of the pavement.

Marinette blinked up at him, still disoriented from her near-fall and the cosmic pull of his eyes. “Don’t worry about me. I only just fell for you,” she said.

What.

Mister Bug’s eyes widened, blinking owlishly at her as red pooled his cheeks.

Oh, she loved how much that mask allowed her to see more of his handsome face…

Stop that!

“I mean—! Um!” Marinette scrambled to halt the unintelligible mess threatening to pour out of her mouth, but all she succeeded in doing was tying her own tongue into knots. “Don’t worry about me! You saved me! From falling!” She laughed awkwardly, punching the air with a curled fist.

He smiled, and it was so soft and endearing that she nearly whimpered at the sight. “Yeah, I saved you. Right after I crashed into you.”

“Yeah…” she sighed dreamily. “You can crash into me any day…” She followed that one with an airy giggle.

Mister Bug’s smile curved into something more mischievous—that same flirty smile he’d toss Ladybug’s way anytime he made a pass. “Oh? And would you… provide me a safe place to land?”

Marinette’s heart stuttered in her chest, her stomach bubbling with anticipation. “Of course I would,” she replied, breathy. “Anytime.”

He stepped just a bit closer and she was so, so aware of the hand still placed on her waist, burning her skin through her clothes. She couldn’t decide if she wanted him to move it away for her sanity, or keep it there forever and let her melt away into the embers.

“What are you doing all the way out here anyway?” her bug asked, a wrinkle in his mask between his eyes to match his frown.

She wished she could smooth that wrinkle out, but instead she settled for a gulp to try to clear her dry throat. “I, uh, akuma displacement,” she answered, the usual excuse rolling off her tongue. “What are you doing here? Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

“I was looking for Lady Noire, actually,” he explained. “You didn’t happen to see her pass by, did you?”

“Yes– I mean, no— Wait–” Marinette cut herself off. Her brain was already too scrambled to come up with more excuses. “I mean, yes. She, uh, passed by here. Said she needed to run home for something.”

Mister Bug tilted his head, and, god, he was so cute. She had to force herself not to whimper again.

“She said she’d meet you at the usual spot later,” she added, hoping her voice didn’t sound as shaky as she felt. For good measure, she flashed him a thumbs up.

He seemed to accept her answer. “Oh, okay.”

Marinette sighed in relief.

His smile returned. “In that case, it looks like I have some free time,” he said. “Why don’t you let this charming bug fly you home, huh?”

“I’d love to go home with you,” she responded without much thought. “I mean– I’d love for you to take me home– I, wait, uh. My house. Yes. Please.” Her whole body cringed. “Thank you.”

To her relief, Mister Bug appeared completely unbothered by her constant tumbling over words, instead just grinning wider at her. The hand on her waist moved to wrap fully around her body. Marinette only had a second to snake her arms around his neck before he had tossed his yoyo above their heads to hook on a chimney.

“Ready?” he asked, turning to look at her. Every detail in his summer green eyes glittered at her through his red and black-spotted mask, and she felt like she might melt. Oh, she loved those eyes. She loved him in that mask.

Face hot, all Marinette could do was nod at him, and then they were zipping through the air. It was impossible to tell if the swooping feeling deep in her stomach was from the flight or her proximity to the pilot. Either way, she loved the familiar safety of his arm around her back and the solid strength of his shoulders beneath her fingers.

Before she knew it—in fact, it felt like no time at all, really—they had reached her balcony, and he gently set her down on her feet.

“Well, ma cher, we’ve arrived.”

Marinette blinked up at Mister Bug, not quite ready to part from him. Nervously, she played with her still connected fingers behind his neck.

“You should stay,” she told him. “We can sit up here and chat, or you can come in. I’ll bring some chouquettes up from the bakery. It would be nice to talk to you.”

Wait… Was that too familiar? She had to remind herself that she was Marinette; she wasn’t his partner right now. Marinette couldn’t even remember if she was supposed to know that Chat Noir was Mister Bug, so what was she doing right now?

Luckily, he was seemingly totally nonplussed by her suggestion. Instead, he smiled warmly down at her, a rosy tint to his cheeks that she was sure must have mirrored her own. He opened his mouth, looking incredibly agreeable. To her displeasure, however, his earrings chose exactly that moment to protest, beeping angrily in a way that she could just imagine was Tikki’s voice chiding her.

His smile turned regretful. “I’m sorry, Marinette,” he said. “I’d love to, but I have to go.” Gloved hands gently grasped her wrists, pulling them away from his shoulders.

She mourned the loss.

Marinette’s lip stuck out in a pout. “Do you really have to go?”

“Yes, I really have to go,” he replied sadly. Then, brighter, “But if we’re going to make a date of it, at least give me time to buy you flowers first.”

Her heart skipped a beat, butterflies beating furiously inside her chest.

“Oh,” was all she could say.

Mister Bug’s grin returned at her quiet utterance. Somehow, without her noticing, one of his hands had traveled from her wrist to wind affectionately around her fingers, and he squeezed.

He bowed deeply, her hand still in his, the perfect image of a chevalier encased in red and black.

“Until next time, mademoiselle,” he purred. His lips burned like the sun as they pressed a kiss to the back of her hand. “And when I see you again, I’ll be sure to remember your rose.”

Marinette remained silent and red as he straightened to his full height. Her mouth stubbornly refused to move, even as he waved at her in farewell and leapt from her balcony. She pressed her burning hand to her chest, dreamily watching her red bug become nothing more than a dot on the city skyline.

A whine sounded from her purse, and— Oops. She hadn’t even thought to worry about Plagg once that entire encounter.

“That was disgusting,” Plagg groaned, floating up into the air next to her. “I’m going to have to hear about that all night!”

Marinette sighed happily, sinking backwards into her lounge chair before her legs gave out on her. Plagg continued his grumpy buzzing around her head, but she remained lost in her thoughts and memories of bright green eyes in red masks.

She had no idea how she was going to face him later to return his miraculous to him.

Maybe they could stay swapped just a little while longer.

And if Lady Noire brought a bag full of chouquettes to their usual spot later to make up for the lost opportunity, well, that was her business.

#ml fanfic #misternette #marichat #misternoire #miraculous ladybug #ml #ml fic #lovesquare #love square #mister bug #miraculous s5 #kwami swap #buginette #maribug #while writing this i thought oh wouldn't that be a cute series if they just kept getting too distracted to switch back #but i have many wips and i am being Responsible #miraculous #my writing

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