#darksiders Fury/Reader

[moodymisty]

(waves) Hello. This is a suggestion or request writing thing...

(clears throat)

Anyways, can we get a nice SFW story with Fury from Darksiders. I feel like she doesn't get enough love and I want her to have a nice time with her best friend or with her S/O or with her siblings.

It can be anything domestic or about her kicking angel or demon ass. I just want to see her get some love ^^

Love your writings. Hope you have a nice day.

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Yay! I've been excited to write some Fury. Here's a quick little idea I thought was cute. It's a little shorter than usual, but I liked it how it was and didn't really want to bloat it up.

Relationships: Fury/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

Word Count: 582

Fury sleeps like the dead.

You don't know what it is about the Nephilim, or at least these particular four, that facilitates this trait. The one time War fell asleep on your couch you couldn't move him even if you screamed. It was like the massive Horsemen had just, powered down. Strife isn't much better apparently, but they all seem to agree that Death is the odd man out as a light sleeper. You're not surprised.

Either way, you're stuck.

Fury lays with her arm over your midsection and legs tangled with your own, half trapping you underneath her far larger and heavier body. Her hair brushes over your skin, tickling underneath your nose as her hand grips the side of your nightshirt.

Maybe it's that sleep is such a rarity that causes her to knock out like this, lips slightly parted as she breathes. You know they technically don't need sleep, at least not nearly as much you humans do, but it doesn't mean that their minds don't appreciate a good rest.

"Fury..."

You groan, trying to free at least one of your legs. It doesn't work; If anything, her grip only seems to be getting tighter in response.

You keep moving, shifting and wiggling trying to gain some semblance of freedom, only to be permanently trapped under her much heavier form.

It's only when you make a rough kick with your leg to her own, that you finally hear her make a noise and hopefully begin to wake up. You wiggle around again.

"Fury, I love you but please get off of me." She grumbles and leans up, looking at you with wild hair and hooded eyes.

"Why would I, if you're going to say such nice things." She smirks when you manage to free a leg, but still remain largely helpless.

"Because you're going to suffocate the human saying those nice things if you don't get off." When a hand starts softly hitting the side of her arm, Fury finally relents; Rolling off of your body and sighing.

"Very well,"

Having finally earned your freedom you groan and stretch your limbs under the blankets, before quickly stuffing them back under. The weather is more than a little cold now, and even with Fury who runs as hot as an oven you still find yourself cold. But instead of shivering you curl your legs closer to her, pressing against her side instead of underneath her.

"Oh, so you demand I get off but then immediately return?" The sleepy Nephilim glares at you as you attempt to siphon her warmth.

"Because I want to be by you, not crushed underneath you."

You steal a kiss in an attempt to calm her sour expression, glancing across the room to spot her armor and weapons leaned against the wall.

She'd stopped by at no earlier than midnight and shrugged it all off, tossing it aside before slipping into your bed. It wasn't the first time she'd done so, and it wouldn't be the last. The Horsemen only get rare moments of downtime and she's well intent to enjoy those moments, especially now that she has you.

She returns your kiss, following you even when you pull away.

"Well you can have both, or neither."

She drives a hard bargain. Sighing, you allow the much larger Nephilim to lay against you again, listening to her content laugh as she enjoys a moment of comfort, and you feel the cold morning shivers slowly melt away.

[darkdemeter]

WATCH IN SILENCE

✘DARKSIDERS FILED CLIPPINGS | Fury x Female Watcher!Reader ────────────────────────

The sharpened lash of her tongue runs fine with a coating of agitation. Her reputation precedes her along with that of her entrusted whip. A force not to be trifled with unless under the banner of kinship - in which that only exceeds to her brothers and none else - it is advised by her wrathful temper that you steer clear and out of her way.

First impressions can be tough and more so considering being a Watcher. How this first meeting could have gone much worse or better, you cannot begin to wonder any differently.

Not that the Charred Council were moved by her outcrying rage, professing that being tethered to a Watcher proclaims a line of insult, that she must be kept under your watchful eye. She is utterly forced to come to terms with this bound arrangement. Upon steeling you with a glassened, pearly hued glare that sends an unnerved rot to defile your voided, shadowy body, all you can do is raise a single hand and ever so slightly shift your palm side to side with a little wave.

“Don’t think you can win me over so easily, parasite.” Her eyes thin and her lips curl up into a beastly snarl. Already, you fear beyond the boundaries of comprehension that you’ve upset her to the point of no forgiveness. So, with a faltering hover, you lower your head submissively towards the frightful Horseman lest you incur what her name - her existence implies - fury. A reckoning that’d be your fateful demise.

Set a course on whatever task she was to carry out for the Council, you - being latched to the weaving of her body, mind and soul - follow. Silently and out of her way. Sometimes she’d forget you were there until you showed yourself. Never would you so much as writhe beneath her immortal flesh out of sheer terror she’d smite you down, her whip restricting and reducing the essence of your spirit into nothingness. When not harboured inside the vessel of her body that convulses with her ever-present anger just below the surface, and when not being an inconvenience as much as possible, you take to exploring the world around you.

“Ugh, you’re pathetic, little Watcher. Like humans, you find the most mundane things fascinating,” she scoffs, a clawed grasp attached to her jutted hip, eyes barreling a thousand fold of her sneering. At times, her words did come to sting harshly, tear their way into the hollow of your frame that has been described as ghastly by her own words, but overtime… she’s come to say, “But I’ve seen far less flattering things than you.”

Before you can even make to smile through the illuminated glow of your eyes, she quickly cuts into you again. “But that doesn’t mean I like your company! You’re a morsel of a parasite that I could crush beneath my heel. But at least you're silent…”

Your nature to be that of a muted shadow is one reprieve Fury has come to be thankful at the very least. A talkative Watcher can become so overbearing and an influence of annoyance that drives her to the edge of her already shortened patience and temper.

When you try to point out locations you deem useful in some sort of way, she’s quick to snap as you try to grab her attention. She’ll snarl, and viciously at that, only to then look at where you point and her lips coil.

“Ugh, fine! If it ceases your infernal writhing.”

In due time travelling with the rider, who’s horse also embodies a vengeance to meddle with you whenever you’re presently near, she does have a sense to calm; perhaps even open up to you. In cases of her boredom, she finds nothing better to do other than to rant to you and Rampage. And you remain there, silent and listening. At first, Fury was concerned that any of this could be retold to the Council, but you never did. You always kept the veil closed, to let her burn her rage out like a flame that devours the blackened wick until there is nothing left.

Soon, she comes to quietly appreciate having you around. But just a little. She still finds your presence and the meaning it serves behind it insulting and gravely annoying. But she knows and understands you are not like any other Watcher. You don’t smother her with repetitive reminders of the powers you have over her, that you are the Council’s eyes and ears, nor do you bombard her with meaningless words of vomit grovelling. But she sees the flare of admiration you hold for her and her skills, and maybe she revels in it, if only to be praised above all else by the likes of you. Though she plays it off that your admiration means nothing to her. It eventually does. It fuels her and keeps that edge about her battle prowess. A need to show off her capabilities to their entirety.

In the heated confrontations of her battles, you of course take to seeking refuge inside the bonds of your tie with the Horseman as she unhooks her whip from her hip, the chain rattling and ready to slash and maim. But the few times you do not take residence, to hide, you mind the space of the battlefield in some near forgotten corner to watch. At one point did you intervene, much to your mistress’s disapproval afterwards, but at the time it seemed viable. Acceptable. She could have gotten hurt if you didn’t make a move to distract her opponent.

Just as the cleaving axe was being reared into action, you hovered fast towards the beastly form, and with all your might and courage, you flung yourself around. Your fists pounded and hit hard against the bulk of the monstrous body, you floated around like a bug set to irritate. Of course, this plan works enough for Fury to bring her foe to his knees before smiting him. However, you did take a few nasty swipes and hits, furthermore, she scolds you for your actions.

“What in the Nine Hells was that?! You could have gotten yourself killed!”

She watches as you deflate at this and her brows furrow. Was she being too harsh? Was she being ungrateful?

As more time passes, and you journey across the known realms with your rider, she does eventually spawn a curiosity about your silent nature. The reserved quietness that leaves her to somewhat be a victim of talking to herself because of your lack to communicate. Only when Rampage is summoned is she granted a piece of mind from this ‘victimhood’ of rambling on to herself.

“Why is it that you don’t talk, little Watcher?” She finally asks, voice grating with the final threads of her nerves and patience. You blink once, then twice in surprise. Her question is abrupt. Cracking like a sudden boom of ominous thunder. This short rest is very rare between her assignments and so you were keen to make the most of it. Intending the explore the desecrated and overgrown ruins, her question prevented you from moving too far.

She glared at you now and you feel that chill consume you whole. Her state is one that penetrates without remorse, that can very well drain the life force from you.

“Well?” She presses on with a scoff. Turning your body fully now to face her, you slowly approach, the wispy tendril of your torso wavering slightly as you near her.

Your voice breaks through a heavy layer of internal grime and disdain, coming into form of a crackling echo that’s as soft as the faintest of whispers that share the darkest of secrets.

“Scared…”

[imagine-darksiders]

Imagine Fury all but shoving you into a crawl space to escape a Trauma.

You end up flat on your back as she scrambles in afterwards, and slots herself in neatly above you, her long, rippling hair draping down to frame her angular face as you gape up at her, startled by the Nephilim's proximity.

"Hoo," you whistle awkwardly, "Well, this is cozy."

The Horseman merely scowls down at you in return, wondering why you'd think the inside of an air vent would be cozy.

Then it dawns on her...

She has you pinned beneath her torso. Your feeble, human body is entirely caged in by her limbs, and she's almost brushing her nose against yours when she tries to adjust herself in the cramped space.

Viciously tossing aside how oddly alluring you look below her, Fury lets out a low growl and grabs your collar with one hand, hauling you further along the vent and shoving you none too gently towards the other opening.

"If you breathe a word of this," she seethes, pleased that the darkness hides the undeniable flush crawling up her neck, "I will tell Ulthane to throw you out of the Tree."

"... Pfft. Ulthane wouldn't do that."

"Then I'll do it myself. Get moving."

[voidwritesstuff]

Camcorder Stories.

Cw: War being self deprecating. (No surprise there)

Summary: The Four happen to be travelling with a human survivor who is a devoted learner of all things cinema. They're learning about human culture one way or another, even if they dont like it.

>A/n: Inspired by the lovely @darkdemeter and her amazing Darksiders writings. As A film student, I felt like I needed to share all this knowledge that has changed the way I watch films and other multimedia content. To share the hard work involved and the appreciation I have for it :DDD.

The horsemen had no concept of what Film was. Not even Strife,who was the most acquainted with humanity even before the end times.

But now the riders found themselves with a young human who had dedicated a good portion of their years to studying cinema. And much to their chagrin or excitement...

This human carried an old camcorder with them. And with tapes to spare.

Death:

Not even theatre was of particular concern or interest to the pale rider. He was never one for the arts,other than the art of necromancy, so at first he pays the human no mind when they begin talking about film.

"Oh hold on,I need to film this. Stand there at the edge of that cliff...I just need to fiddle with the ISO. So bright..."

Death was just looking at the Valley below,the sickly sun of the kingdom of the dead shone on his cold skin. The warmth was sticky and awful. But hes never been one to complain.

The tall bone towers stood on the far distance on each side of him, a perfect frame of Demise between the reaper himself.

His human companion fiddled with buttons and he could see the lense of the strange device the mortal held. He saw how it opened and closed like a predator's Gaze.

"Okay! There we go. Finally. Please stand there,Im going to do a traveling, then a zoom in And finish on a medium close up...you just stay there like in a reverse shot. " the human made a pause,as if thinking about their words "stay still,look Cool. Back to the camera and look forwards to either of those towers"

Death doesnt know why he indulges in these outbursts of cinematic inspiration. He thinks it helps his companion Keep their sanity..and it keeps them tame and less prone to trouble.

He can hear the mortal slowly walk to him. His ears catch the sound of their footsteps from his right. He can guess theyre putting most of their weight on their heels so they can turn upwards and close in on him to somewhat eye level.

The sound comes from his right to then begin walking a Straight line behind him. Thats the travelling.

This "useless" knowledge of film has been drilled into his mind against his Will. He knew a travelling meant this human would slowly move towards him from either of his sides.

After comes that close up. Those always put his hairs on edge. Like theyre sneaking behind him. He absolutely hates it. Even if theyre not even a threat.

Finally,the medium close up meant the camera would only film from his shoulders up.

He can hear the whirring of the camcorder as it takes in his form.

It cuts when the camera is right on his left shoulder.

"Satiated?" He asked,a gruff in his voice. The annoyance bellows from the base of his throat.

"Very..." he turns to see the human look at their recording"I know you hate doing second takes...I know you think this is silly but...I'd like one more take. Please? . Its not often that outside light behaves,usually its better to do all this in a studio-gives you more controll over the lights and shadows.. but this is almost a golden opportunity.."

He asks himself again why he indulges the mortal on these things. But he looks at how their eyes glimmer at the prospect of connecting with something so tied to them and their people that went on a horrible decline by the hands of things older and more powerfull than them.

And he cant squander their happiness.

Perhaps hes grown soft, perhaps hes intrigued by such arts.

"One last 'take'. Make it count,human"

The smile they give him could melt any Ice. And if the Creator willed it,maybe the one that wrapped his dead heart.

"Okay! Ill do my travelling from the left, then a zoom and finish on your right shoulder. I know theres not much difference but the sun is coming from the left...I think its going to be more dramatic that way!"

Death couldnt help but let out a low,low chuckle"One of these days,I'll make you show me all these things youre...filming"

"Death,after this take I'll show all of them to you. I promise" the human's voice sounds the happiest hes ever heard since meeting them "I think all this Will make a smashing docu-series. Ill give you credits of course, though putting "Special thanks to the literal horseman of the pale horse" sounds a little weird"

Another chuckle left the old reaper "With everything your people has been through,thats your concern?"

The human laughed,a sound so heavenly"Alright,alright,fair. C'mon. Stand there again and We'll wrap this up faster than you can say 'action!'"

Fury

Her opinions could make even the saltiest of film critics cry. And shes not ashamed on telling his human companion how pointless and useless their outbursts were.

But then she saw how cool she looked,and it fed her ego so much she changed her tune.

"Youre going to kill me because of this,Fury. But move to that lightsource there" the human Pointed at one forwards down the Hall of arcane lights they were in.

"Whats wrong with this one, mortal? " the she-horseman asked with her hands on her hips and a little annoyed glare in her white eyes.

"I can tell from how it looks here in the camera that this is an incomplete spectrum lightsource "

"English,human "

The mortal sighed,putting down the camera "Incomplete Spectrum Lights dont do well with colors that are a mix of two others. Your hair is magenta, the middle between blue and red. Depending on where you stand, its taking the color of your hair from bluer to redder. Not a nice look,and not the one im looking for "

She relented and Walked further down the Hall. She raised her hands in annoyance and said "Well? "

"Perfect!! Do something cool with your whip! -Oh I need to change the obturation velocity. "

"...human" Fury scowled.

"How quickly the lenses Open and close to register the image. The quicker it opens and closes the clearer the image of your whip moving Will be"

Fury saw them click a few buttons on their camcorder. The tech was foreign to them,only her watcher seemed to be aware of how they worked. So,when the human wasnt listening, the shadow being explained to her mistress what a camera was and how it functioned.

"There! Ready. Im not sure on what shot to use.."

She did say she didnt care for film knowledge. Shes heard it enough times against her Will but...

"Medium length shot. Didn't you humans call it an 'American Shot'  too?" she asked,grabbing the Hilt of Scorn.

The human smiles,the glimmering of their eyes like theyre finally being acknowledged

"Or 'cowboy shot' yeah. You...you remembered! "

"Just because you said it a thousand times. "

By now,her mortal companion had grown used to her dismissal. "Uh-Huh sure. Ahem, alright. 'Fury being awesome ' take one! And...action!"

Just a few takes later,The human approached the horsewoman and showed her the display screen of the camera. Within it she sees the last take they did, which seemed to be the best one yet.

There truly is an art and a skill to it. How they move about to catch each angle, evading any lightsource that May betray their shadow and ruin the film.

Fury catches the warmth and pride in the human's eyes. This is the first time shes seen them so content. Mortals needed little to be happy.

It made her heart squeeze. She almost felt...guilty for being so critical and mean about this,admitedly, unique art form.

"Not bad. Perhaps you'll even make this into something worth watching" she ruffles their hair to add her usual emotional distance, but the human is inmune to It.

"When I do,you and your siblings are invited to the red carpet premiere. You Better dress your best"

"I never dissapoint,human".

Strife:

The horseman of the white horse loved any and all things human related. Was this his way of making up after his failing at protecting humanity from corruption? Maybe.

Or maybe he just really likes the culture.

Not like he'd tell his human companion about why he seemed so interested in their filming.

"Okay heres a fun bit of info for you. Did you know we had an art form called stop motion?"

"I Didnt know, how does it work?"

He listened attentively as the mortal told him about the millions of variations of puppet models,the replacement, the neat little tricks to make things move and seem Real.

To him,stop motion animation sounded like a real labor of love.

"I had to make one for a class once. It was painful but fun"

"Do you still have the recording?"

"I...dont sadly. We made it on a digital camera and god knows what happened to it after this shit show"

"Oh...".

"But if you give me a few hours we can make one together"

Strife knows himself enough to be aware of his lack of patience. But he accepts the deal if only for the experience.

He sees his human companion,his Friend, work away at making a few tiny little puppets that they can pose. They use pine cones,Grass,rubble, anything that they can get their hands on.

The mortal sets the camera on a rock,making sure it cant be moved. Then, they spent the Next few hourstaking pictures and making the puppets move and do silly little things.

Strife defenetly didnt have the patience for this, but it was all worth it when he saw the animation they made together. How the doll moved about in its little scenario,how the arms hoist up some pebble.

" Ive never done anything like this" he had admitted as he cleaned his guns. This was his way of unwinding. "It was fun, but painful. You sure its not some human torture method?"

His friend laughed,shaking their head as they press record on their camera and begin to move it delicately to drink in all the details of the horseman's hands cleaning the gun

The campfire beside them gave the shot a dramatic light that flickered and danced in a way that made the metal glint. And with a low ISO (aka the camera's sensitivity to light) there was no oversaturation to ruin the recording.

"Watcha doing'?" The gunslinger asked, not stopping the cleaning of his weapons.

"A detail shot. Usually its for props. In this case, the props are your guns." They explained "I personally love detail shots. They showcase the love put into the props by the art department"

"Theres an art department?"

"Ya. Theres also a lights department, writers,directors, producers, special effects- like a fake wound-, a costume/clothes department.-"

"So Many people for one movie?"

"Mhm! I can tell you all about it "

"Sweetheart,we've got nuthin' but time. 'M all ears"

War:

Creator help the human that the red rider travels with. He knows little of things like theatre and magic and tech are a mystery to him in so Many ways. Had it not been for the watcher, the behemoth in crimson would have no clue and think its an elaborate human prank.

"Okay so in a movie,you'd have four stages. Pre- production,where the story and list of resources needed for the film get made. Production,which is getting everything on the list plus actors and catering and a bunch of other things. Filming,the fun part. And post-production, where everything comes together"

War raised his brows in surprise, his expression would have been hidden if it wasnt for the slight widening of his shining white eyes and his voice as he says "I...was not aware of how much was needed for such a  seemingly simple thing"

The human was unaware of the expression he was making,seeing as their back was to his chest. Ruin trode lazily over the broken pavement.

"Yeah! You need a lot. Think about this,you need a scene in a home.." they begin,opening Their camcorder to put a tape within It "you can either make it within a studio- which means making everything from the ground up- or get a house with the furniture inside it "

He listens attentively "Im sure its more complicated than that...You'd need...lights? You have said that. And you told me natural light can be...tricky"

"Yeah!! " they sound so happy at his remembrance "For a home you manage to "borrow" you need to block out the Windows- unless theyre shown in the shot- and replace the light with artificial ones. But you'd also need people and services to haul the equipment to that home. "

They made a brief pause "a big guy like you would be useful. You May have a spot on the industry after all!"

"I dont see myself-"

"It was a joke,War"

"Right"

"Thats joke 1000 and counting" they breathed out,before turning on their camcorder. "Hey...I want a birds eye view of Ruin's head. Can get on your shoulders?"

He sighed "very well. Be careful"

The human climbs on him with ease. His armor provided foot holds and places to grasp. And its not the first time this happened...

War barely registers their weight on him. He looks up past his hood to see them record the sunset,turning side to side slowly in a panning motion.

"Natural light can be finnicky...but things like these can be breath taking...Wonderful shot"

At this,something comes to the rider's mind. "Why do you...record all these things? Arent they painful reminders? Do you do it to inmortalize yourself?"

The mortal looked down and smiled,shaking their head"in film,we tell stories. I want to tell this story...our story" the camera bends down to record him. And he huffs,all afluster.

"The nephilim are not worthy of remembrance".

"But you horsemen are. Your stories are worth sharing. And im making sure they happen. Your voice deserve to be heard"

"What makes you so certain?"

"I...Im not sure. Its just a feeling.."

He saw the way the human's brows knit together. They chew the inside of their cheek and turn the camera to take the view of Ruin's firey mane.

"Wonderful films have been made out of less. Sure,your stories are amazing and interesting- but thats not quite It. We have all seen stories of guts and glory,of massacres...but you horsemen are different. Unique."

"We're the accursed union of Angel and Demon. We're unique because we shouldnt exist "

He feels them kick him with the heel of their foot. "Dont say that about yourself. Good god" they sigh,looking at the sunset "theres nobody in this world like you four, youre unique in a wonderful way. You are a union of angel and demon but youre nothing like them. Youre uniquely independent, in a League all of your own. I seek to understand it I guess-  I want to tell your stories because..."

The words are on the tip of their tongue. So annoying...

And War sounds almost...meek in asking. He hopes of acknowledgement, of being seen, as deep down as that feeling is.

"Because theres simply nothing like you,and I think everyone deserves to know how noble,how kind and how strong you are. Maybe we can even learn something from you for. Your courage and disposition are unmatched. As scarred as you May be,as hurt even...I just think you deserve to be shown and appreciated for your uniqueness"

The rider was unsure on what to say. They are perhaps the only being in existence that appreciates the four in this way. And...he quite likes it.

"No doubt you'll make it far in your carreer" he complimented after a long silence."few beings in existence have the heart that you do..."

He heard them chuckle, their shadow moving as they hook their feet under his armor to stand up and bring their camera further up,showing the low brush and lushness that begins to overtake the landscape. The blue hour fully setting in.

"Will you come watch what I make?"

It was so obvious there was a slight hint of humor. He could tell the human wasnt at all convinced he actually cared for their art.

Too bad he means to show them he does

"To see the fruits of your hard labor? Of course. "

He hears the slight sniffing,he feels the slight trembling..."Ill- ill get you the best- best seats at the theatre. I promise"

War raised his normal hand to wrap around their calf, as a comfort but as a steadying force. "Ive no doubt you'll uphold your word"

[sketch-guardian]

Imagine the students with an mc who’s like a middle aged man and has a beer belly, I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone write about a loud middle aged man in obey me

You're right, I guess I haven't seen many headcanons about such theme either🤔so I'll do my best to fix it☺For my headcanons, however, I usually use a gender neutral MC to make everyone feel included, so I hope this small change won't bother you too much🙈(I also apologize for the delay😥classes have started in uni again and I'll have less and less time to reply to asks, I might need to close the askbox for headcanons soon😭):

"RAD CLASSMATES+NEW EXCHANGE STUDENTS WITH A MIDDLE AGED MC WHO HAS A BEER BELLY"

DEMYA

Demya loves a bit of meat on bones, she can appreciate the thinnest or most muscular physiques too, however she would find a bit of plumpness charming, because it would make her mouth water. Middle Aged MC however wouldn't have to fear being mauled, because as Demya's mate, they would be off limits and have privileges that others would not be granted. Demya may nibble or kiss Middle Aged MC's beer belly out of affection while liying down on it during cuddle sessions in her soft nest, so hopefully Middle Aged MC doesn't mind having some marks, in easy-to-hide spots. Since Demya and Middle Aged MC are both troublemakers and food lovers, they would likely be a loud and occasionally chaotic couple, but still very much in love

DOMNRA/MOBIM

Domnra is a pretty fit and sporty demon, however he wouldn't force Middle Aged MC to follow his training regime, he would leave the choice up to them, depending on how they feel, Domnra would joke about Middle Aged MC deciding to settle down with a demon of all the available options though, at such an age too. Domnra could become Middle Aged MC's drinking buddy, celebrating with glasses of alcohol and getting angry at TV, shouting and breaking havoc, Domnra would mostly be a depressed drunk though, as if Demonus eased his anger issues. In quieter moments, Domnra would hold Mobim in his arms and rest his back on Middle Aged MC's soft beer belly, playing some music to listen to together, making sure to satisfy both of their tastes in music

AZUL

Azul is a twink, so the idea of ​​carrying Middle Aged MC in his arms or holding them on his lap without using magic would be quite out of the question, at least for Middle Aged MC at first, because they wouldn't want to risk hurting Azul with their weight, however he would likely be into such stuff and, as a demon, he would still be rather resistant, so as far as he is concerned, Azul would let Middle Aged MC crush him, hell he would even thank them. Being quite eccentric, Azul wouldn't care if Middle Aged MC made a racket, to be fair he's chaotic too so they would be one of the wildest couples at parties, and if they were to suffer from insecurity due to their age or chubbiness, Azul would remind Middle Aged MC of their beauty through drawings and photographs, or straight up physical intimacy such as kisses and hugs, if the first options didn't work. Azul would like Middle Aged MC to feel confident in their own body and if they wished to lose weight, he would support them, suggesting dancing as a fun exercise

ZURI

Many demons would wonder how the hell Middle Aged MC managed to woo an ethereal and elegant woman like Zuri, the answer probably being their charm and genuine feelings winning the demon over somehow, making her overlook their appearance for a while, their relationship could almost remind a bit of the one between Morticia and Gomez, in a certain sense. The occasional loud mess might upset Zuri, who often gets migraines due to her hectic work, therefore she would appreciate if they could spend some quiet quality time together, while occasionally sharing a glass of Demonus. However, Zuri would still attempt at helping Middle Aged MC with their drinking problem and would try to clean them up a bit, by buying them expensive suitable clothes that compliment their figure and curves

ODON

Not gonna lie, the first thing that came to mind when thinking about a couple made of a middle-aged human and a horror beyond comprehension was Gravity Falls, specifically Stanford Pines and Bill Cipher, even if the dynamic would definitely be different. For Odon, most people, both on Earth and in Devildom, are quite young when compared to them, even Lord Diavolo, so they wouldn't really pay too much mind to Middle Aged MC's age, only if pointed out, it wouldn't make any difference though, especially because Middle Aged MC would still remain the youngest, even compared to the only other human in the exchange program (Solomon). Odon wouldn't care about Middle Aged MC's appearance, considering that the form in which they technically presents themselves doesn't correspond to their true monstrous appearance, so Odon would love Middle Aged MC no matter what and their messing around wouldn't even bother the eldritch horror, on the contrary it would amuse them, plus Odon would keep Middle Aged MC company while they drink, to make sure they're okay, drinking a cup of green tea instead of alcohol. Odon and Middle Aged MC would often lounge together, like an old married couple, on a couch covered in a flannel blanket while reading books, in the comfort of Odon's cabin in the woods. It would be cute to imagine such a domestic life

REMIEL

Remiel is aware of how fragile and short life can be, she considers it precious and would get quite concerned over Middle Aged MC's health status, from a logical and medical point of view. Their age would also remind Remiel of how little time she has left with Middle Aged MC and therefore, despite some somberness, she would try to enjoy as many moments as possible with Middle Aged MC, kindly trying to help them change their harmful habits, not wanting the day in which she will have to assist their soul in reaching the afterlife to approach so soon. Remiel, apart from her wings, has cold skin, so being in Middle Aged MC's arms, pressed against their soft and warm beer belly, would certainly be a new, but pleasant experience, a source of heat, perhaps enough to lull the angel of death into a light nap, which she would honestly need, as she often attends to her celestial duty. Middle Aged MC being loud would surprise Remiel, since she is more used to a calm and isolated environment, however it wouldn't bother her too much, since she literally has two uncles and an aunt, who don't know much about the concept of being quiet, whether it's because of her powerful voice (Fury), his heavy step (War) or his shenanigans (Strife)

NATHANIEL

Nathaniel would notice Middle Aged MC's age and size, however he wouldn't give too much weight to such details and would focus more on their affinity and how to spend time together. Nathaniel would be quite capable of handling Middle Aged MC being loud, after all he isn't the Archangel of Patience for nothing, however if Middle Aged MC bothered him too many times during his meditation sessions, then Nathaniel might decide to take revenge, it would be unclear how or when and Middle Aged MC would live for a while with anxiety, not knowing what to expect and when the angel would strike, usually it would just be a little tease anyway, because he's lenient. Being very chill, sometimes, Nathaniel would let Middle Aged MC sit on his lap while he meditates or while they rest like, playing with their belly as if it were a stress reliever and resting his head on their shoulder, finding the act very therapeutic. As for drinking, Nathaniel would just make sure Middle Aged MC doesn't overdo it

URIEL

Even Uriel would have no idea how Middle Aged MC managed to capture her heart and yet, much to her embarrassment, they still somehow accomplished such feat, however, due to having a reputation, the warrior angel would appreciate if Middle Aged MC avoided being loud or messy while she's busy with important celestial matters. Uriel knows how fragile humans can be and how many things can contribute to a premature death, therefore, not considering Middle Aged MC's lifestyle healthy, she would try to help them exercise, stop drinking and eat healthy, at least Uriel would do her best to not turn the experience into military training. One thing Uriel would be able to do with ease would be lifting Middle Aged MC in her arms, without effort or trouble, no matter their height or how big their beer belly is, Uriel is strong and Middle Aged MC would be like featherweight to her, so that would probably make them feel like royalty. Uriel would also enjoy the contrast between her sturdy body and Middle Aged MC's soft one

[darksiders-junkie]

Good evening friend! I've had a bit to drink while replaying Darksiders 2 and have been wondering if death would be fun to drink with. Thoughts? I figure Strife would be hella fun at first then if he overdoes it he'd get a bit maudlin. Feel free to add on for other characters if you want to!

Appreciate your contribution to this teeny fandom! *Toasts you with drink of choice* ❤️

Sure thing! I'm actually going to do them all :))

War

He is not fun to drink with. Man has one drink and calls it a night. He doesn't like alcohol, and he hates feeling tipsy. It makes him feel like he's not in control of his own body.

If you do manage to get him to drink more, I'd suggest drinking at home. He loosens up and becomes way more talkative and he won't be happy if other people (strangers at that) saw him like that.

And when he becomes more talkative its really all slurred and jumbled together, you have to get him to announciate his words to try and understand him.

At the end of the night, you can bet he's throwing up and passing out on the floor. And since you wouldn't be able to move him, well just put a pillow under his head and drap a blanket over him. He'll be fine.

He wakes up to the biggest migraine ever, and will proceed to be 10x grumpy and scowly until it has passed. So make sure to give him plenty of water, migraine meds, and a big old greasy breakfast in the morning.

Death

He usually tries to avoid alcohol all together. You'll find he'll have a glass of wine for the silly human holidays you enjoy so much, but other than that he doesn't drink.

If you do manage to get him to drink, well you're questioning if he's been dumping out his glass while you weren't looking. He's hardly changed at all!

But no, he most certainly has been drinking it due to your wishes. He's just really good at seeming not drunk.

You can only tell with the slightest of slurred words, and the fact that there is no more bite in his tongue. He may sway slightly while walking, but it'd be hard to tell if you were also drunk.

At the end of the night he'll take a shower and brush his teeth (about time), to get rid of the alcohol smell. He'll pop into your room to make sure you made it to bed alright before finding his way to hiw own room. And if you do share a bedroom, then he'll crawl in behind you and be unusually a bit more cuddling than normal.

He'll be up way before you in the morning, having left some water and meds by your bed and being down stairs cooking up breakfast for the two of you.

Strife

He is hell of fun to drink with, in the beginning that is.

He'll laugh, crack jokes, and even nudge you when you aren't taking a sip. A real partier, so even if it's just the two of you, he fully expects you to yell "Chug Chug Chug" as he downs his glasses. Of course, he'll do the same if you decide to chug.

But eventually he'll flip on a dime and just start crying. It's the worst because there is no warning either. Just

"I'm the bestest friend/partner in the whole world right?"

"Do you love me (Y/n)? Because I love youuuu! Tell me you love meeeee!"

And he's also very clingy. He'll literally hang off you, quickly remind him that you are infact human or otherwise you'll end op on the floor with him.

To avoid this, either head to bed early so he'll do the same, or take him out drinking. If he's around people he won't be like that. Although the car ride home (either by uber or the other siblings. Uber definitely prefered if you dont want to hear a screaming match between siblings) would be a different story, but at least you got to have a longer time to have fun.

Although if you tuck him in, and even as his friend cuddle him through the night, he'll be less of a whiny bitch.

In the morning, he'll most definitely be sluggish and whiny. Keep him away from his siblings because they don't tolerate that shit no more lmfao. Make sure your Strife has plenty of water and meds, and order him food.

Fury

She'll often have a few drinks to get tipsy, but will stop drinking at that point. She doesn't enjoy the hangovers in the morning, and she's often been told she's a raging drunk.

She'll never turn that rage onto you. She thinks you're far too soft and pitiful to do that. No, instead, you'll find her screaming at the wall she accidentally bumped into for 10 minutes straight.

Or trying to pick fights with people, so I suggest keeping her away from her siblings at this time. She won't pick fights with humans though, but I still suggest staying away from bars as she will still find something to scream at. (Like the TV. Everyone is screaming about the silly game, why can't she?)

At the end of the night she will definitely soften some more, and make her way to her own bed. She will not give two fucks if you make it to your bed, unless you share a bed.

In the morning she'll be awfully quiet and just cluching her head at the table. Don't dare to comment on it, just give her some meds and water. You can try feeding her but she'll just push it away.

[reaper2187]

Fury x watcher female reader

In the desolate realm of Darksiders 3, where corruption seeps through the cracks of existence, you stand amidst the ruins as a Watcher - a solitary guardian of knowledge. Your eyes, aglow with ethereal brilliance, observe the enigmatic figure known as Fury. A formidable Nephilim, she strides through the forsaken landscapes, her dual-wielded blades flashing like beacons in the abyss.

Fury's quest grips your attention - to confront the Seven Deadly Sins and restore balance to the ravaged earth. Yet, as you follow her blood-soaked path, you sense a deep-seated yearning within her. Amidst the carnage, she yearns for understanding, for a companion who can share her burden.

Driven by an unspoken connection, you manifest yourself to her as a flickering light in the darkness. Fury's eyes widen in surprise as she senses your presence. You are no ordinary phantom; you are a fragment of the cosmic tapestry, a witness to her struggles and a silent confidant.

With each step she takes, you linger by her side, offering words of solace or encouragement through whispers carried by the wind. Your presence becomes a source of strength for Fury, knowing that she is not alone in her arduous journey.

As you accompany her through treacherous dungeons and face formidable foes, you witness her unyielding resolve and unwavering courage. Yet, beneath her steely exterior lies a softer core - a wounded spirit that yearns for connection.

In those quiet moments between battles, when Fury pauses to catch her breath, you delve into the depths of her thoughts and emotions. You learn of her guilt over the deaths she has wrought, her fears for the future, and her desire for redemption.

Through your silent observations, you come to realize that Fury is not merely a warrior; she is a complex being with vulnerabilities and dreams. And as you draw closer, her need for companionship becomes undeniable.

One fateful evening, as Fury sits by a roaring fire, her mind tormented by past sins, you gather your courage and speak. Your voice, soft as the rustling of leaves, fills the air with words of understanding and compassion.

Fury's eyes flicker with a glimmer of surprise and gratitude. For the first time, she allows herself to truly open up to another soul. Together, you share your wisdom and experiences, forming an unbreakable bond that transcends the boundaries of life and death.

As dawn breaks, Fury rises with renewed determination, her heart lighter than it has been in centuries. The weight of her past is not forgotten, but it no longer consumes her. With you by her side, she strides forward with a newfound sense of purpose and hope.

Through the treacherous trials and tribulations that lie ahead, your connection with Fury grows stronger with each passing day. You become her trusted confidant, her unwavering ally, and the love that blooms between you is as unyielding as the bonds of the cosmos.

Together, you forge a path through the darkness, leaving an everlasting mark on the desolate realm . And as the sun sets on this desolate world, you and Fury stand tall as a testament to the transformative power of love amidst chaos and despair.

[1stunseeliefaelass]

Horsemen Reptile/Amphibian/Arachnid Pet Owners:

This is just me wanting to have a bit of fun speculation for funsies as a reptile owner myself and someone who grew up around these animals as long as I've been alive. So what would each Horseman get as a pet or pets if they were to get into the reptile/amphibian/arachnid hobby.

You hadn't been to a reptile show since the apocalypse happened. In truth many of the species you loved as a kid were struggling to stay around past potential extinction. Others however actually managed to thrive despite everything happening. So when you heard that your fellow humans were hosting a show once again, things finally began to feel somewhat like normal again. It was also high time for your scaly puppy to have food again as you'd run out of your bulk.

Since you have nothing better to do than that, you decide to make the most of this. Especially given how long it's been, and you finally have friends to share your hobby with. Finally some folks who don't think reptiles and such are gross or inheritly evil. Death takes some convincing, given his homebody nature when not working. But eventually decides to join along, if only to make sure you stick to your shopping list and don't buy anything out of budget or anything living. Just the one 'danger noodle' as you keep calling your royal python is enough he feels(Yes he does call ball pythons by the original name and even knows why they're called royal pythons.). Strife needed no convincing at all and was happy to come and see what these mythical 'reptile shows' were. That and he's an animal lover so he's as excited as little kids are to see them all. Fury only came so you'd stop asking, supposedly. Deep down though, she's curious about the animals that have captured your heart so. She initially plans to ask questions about any that peak her interest or yours. War is convinced well enough after your explain just how big some of these python species can get. Course he's not believing you because, "I've seen much bigger snakes than a simple reticulated or indian python.". So he's coming just so he can prove you wrong.

So what does everyone buy?

Y/N - Well thanks to Death’s mostly hypervigilant self, you avoid buying any new critters. Just frozen rats to feed your scaly puppy at home. That doesn't stop you from taking photos of War posing with pythons and boas, and Strife holding everything he comes across if he's allowed to. Fury and Death were hard to nail in any photos. But eventually you do get one of each quietly. One has Fury interacting with a baby hognose that played dead in her hand as she called it a drama queen. The other has Death handling a tarantula, something you're admittedly still afraid to do. It was a beautiful sapphire gooty female that was somehow there. You immediately fled the scene right after the picture, not because Death caught you, but because the spider decided to showcase the speed demon side all indian ornamental species are known for. Getting a good chuckle out of the old Horseman who luckily was definitely fast enough to keep the little lady from 'chasing you'.

Death - He decides on buying the sapphire gooty, as their extreme rarity gave him a sort of kinship kind of feeling towards her. That and the unintentional jumpscare she gave you might've given him some ideas. He gets at least two other species as well. A goliath bird eater because he enjoys her spunk seeing as she actually stridulated at him when he picked up her container. The final tarantula he takes is a gorgeous antilles pinktoe. The colors were just way too eye-catching to him, and her temperament was a plus too. The last animal he grabs isn't even an arachnid though, as he actually finds someone selling venomous animals and is attracted to a black female king cobra. You at first ask if he's crazy, then notice she's blind. Upon asking, Death and you are told she's a rescue and was devenomed. Naturally you explain the term to Death, who is horrified at knowing. He can't forget about her and ultimately buys her. Promising he'll give her a much happier life. Good thing humans these days will take gilt as well as cash. Cus he definitely has that in surplus. Naturally he buys enclosures/food for his new critters and the ones his siblings inevitably buy. He of course also names his little ladies. The GS is named Princess(yes he is serious about the name), the goliath is named Ungoliant, and the pinktoe is dubbed Tanzanite. Meanwhile he calls the cobra Queenie.

Strife - Strife avoids the tarantulas like the plague, and other arachnids to his older brother's amusement. He explains Death and War have pranked him with these animals before. Though Death insists he never used anything living to do it. Didn't want them to be needlessly hurt in the panic after all. Strife does however fall in absolute love with ball pythons and geckos. He ultimately leaves the show with a crested gecko, leechie gecko(which to Death’s shock and annoyance cost near a grand in human US currency), & a banana mimosa ball python. The crestie he calls Nutter Butter(Nutter or Nut for short), the leechie he names Chonker, and the BM ball python he names Glowstick because she looks like a rave glowstick to him with all her bright colors.

Fury - Fury takes interest in an axolotl surprisingly, claiming she finds the empty headed creature to be amusing. In reality it's derpiness is more endearing than funny. She also takes the baby hognose from before, as well as a sand boa for the same reasons as the axolotl. Her naming conventions are not terribly creative but at least carry a common theme, she names the hognose Death after her brother until he begs her to change it to Stinky(She thought referencing Death’s avg stink to the stinks hognoses make while playing dead was hilarious for the record.). The sand boa she simply calls Sandy, and soon takes the name very seriously. The last name she picks for the axolotl is Doofus(a secret reference towards Strife that he somehow misses). She never admits it around others, but she adores her little critters.

War - War is a simple man with simple enjoyments admittedly. He takes interest in the bigger animals. He decides on buying a baby anaconda with the intent to grow it into the biggest one the world has ever seen. He also snags a tegu, since they seem hardy and fun. Plus he did like how the one he got is very dog-like for a monitor lizard. He also gets a leechie like Strife does after the latter convinces him to get one for breeding purposes so they make more like Chonker. War names his critters thusly; Amazon for the anaconda, Dog for the tegu(because he acts like a dog and he couldn’t think of anything else), and his leechie gets called Chonkette after Strife suggested it when War couldn’t think of anything. At first he regretted it, now he finds it suits his 'Big Girl' well. Amazon also gets the nickname of 'Big Mama' after the group discovers eggs in her cage about a month later.

The house has gotten so much fuller, but everyone is happy and caring for their respective pets properly. Including you obviously, who War also promised could have first dibs on Amazon and Chonkette's future babies.

[proxis-shattered-expectations]

You know in history during in a specific time period and even today where people will either heavily romanticize or demonize a prominent figure in history to fit into their narrative? usually in the way of demonizing they were given cruel nicknames like Mary i of England was named ‘Bloody Mary’ and Elizabeth Bathory was called the ‘Blood Countess’ or even in fiction when Jaime Lannister is dubbed the ‘Kingslayer’ despite saving millions of lives by killing the mad king. This is done often to the point that the person’s real name and role in history is forgotten or ignored and is only remembered by the insulting names forced on them.

I can totally see this with the Horsemen’s human, either after the false apocalypse when rebuilding Earth and even a good hundred years afterwards when they’re gone and their identity and role in history scrutinized or cherry picked by demonizing or romanizing them.

How would the Horsemen react to their friend’s (whether their still alive and just living their life or long gone) story being romanized or given a cruel and demeaning nickname?

Ooooooo, a great concept and possibility to consider, especially if those were the humans that were ressurected from Death. Having no direct experience of what it is like surviving the apocalypse, nor an understanding of heaven or hell, guaranteed hearing about a fellow human that has lived through and helped the horsemen is object to scrutiny. Directly after the end war if said human is still alive and helping pick up the pieces, at first some humans will be grateful and some a mixture of doubt. Some may feel that said human prioritizes otherworldly beings over humanity, to which these doubts could be dashed if the human went about it the right way and addressed everything that happened. Honesty plays an important role in building a trust, but more so action is what shows the intention, because like it or not, one of the only humans to live through the war and help the horsemen comes with attention and judgement.

What also can influence the reputation left behind is building a rapport with the humans that are more open to the horsemen and to hearing about the truth, those that have hope in a future, and understand things in the universe are not black/white. With that there will be those that have lost everything, and are not so welcoming to the beings that took part in the destruction of Earth. Those that will find fault in every part of the explanation, reasons to doubt and be defensive. The next step if that human wishes to move on is to accept that everyone won't want the truth, that to keep going forward despite that is part of being the human that aided. If the horsemen also follow the same tactic it could be favorable in the long run, and will 100% help in those efforts.

As for if the human were to pass, if the previous steps were followed they would more likely be romanticized then demonized. The horsemen would have a mixture of reactions, Strife finding it hilarious and Fury laughing at the incredulous stories humans made up about their friend. "The savior of Humanity" they would be called, and honestly while it is not entirely true, the horsemen would leave it be as they can live knowing how they were truly like. The result would be similar for the opposing result....but with conflicting ways it was dealt with.

In the beginning the story was more accurate, but with the human passing, over time those that did not like the horsemen twisted the story, and with every generation a new version would be rumored about, fading from truth, to myth to legend. The horsemen would be above the dealings of man at this point since their friend was the main reason they stuck around Earth....but they wouldn't exactly be pleased with the slander towards their memory. Strife would be a little bitter, and a little devastated at how his friend was remembered. He knows of course that humans are fickle and simple minded for some, so he doesn't exactly hate all of them for it...but he is bothered by it and more likely to voice it. If a human were to ask about it, he would wistfully mention how he knew them. Not as the stories now stated, but as the human he had come to call friend. Cue funny and happy stories of the time he spent with his friend.

Similar with Fury, but she is way more bitter. She is quick to demean just how ignorant some humans were, and if any human were stupid enough to say it in her vicinity they will receive a harsh tongue lashing laced with threats. No being in her eyes has any right to demonize the only human she had come to respect, one that she would never admit, but missed their weird human humor and spunk. She is upset that the humans she helped spawned these new ones that refused to tell truthfully, and she is frustrated.

War and Death are a different story. They are the more likely of the two to understand what that is like. War's whole journey being framed and demonized for the end war knew what it was like to be scrutinized, so he would understand the ignorance of the newer humans, but he is angry that they would do so upon the memory of his friend. To slander their story and lie so blantantly when they are not around to defend their name, he finds it dishonorable. Definitely do not recommend being that stupid human that insults them in his presence....he will take action.

Death has been through this, and knows it all too well. The stories told about him are worse, kinslayer, executioner, and traitor is associated with him many times, he is used to it. He accepts that as his burden to carry....but for the human that was nothing like the monster he felt himself to be, it was wrong. He is mournful hearing the human being referred to as the "Betrayer of Humanity.". Angry is an understatement, but it is masked with a sadness. For a moment he wonders if it was truly worth bringing humans back. Mind you he did it for War and balance, but for them to take for granted his sacrifice and stomp on the truth left him feeling distasteful. But he knows the human friend would not have wanted that, so he doesn't take any action or effort to convince them otherwise. If they wish to live in ignorance so be it, but at least he and his brothers know the truth.

Thank you for the ask!!

[randomdarksidersblog27]

THE HORSEMEN AT MARDI GRAS

Death:

Death is not one to party. Not this version of him,at least. Younger him however,is a totally different story.

But, he'll indulge you and go to a few parades with you,mainly the small ones like in Slidell or Lacombe.

Stays away from the big parades in New Orleans and such, especially after finding out about all the random shootings. Gotta keep his favorite human safe right?

He tries his best to get you the best things,like the cute stuffed animals and such.

Gives his extra beads to the little kids and enjoys watching the dance groups.

All in all a pretty chill guy to go with.

Strife

Oh he's going to ALL the parades. No matter where they are.

WILL try and drink anyone under the table too. Tell him about the hand grenades,you'll lose him on Bourbon Street. He will down like,eight of those fuckers and only feel a buzz.

Oh and don't tell him about the flashing boobs for beads. He will look at every woman who did it unabashed. Will try to get you to do the same(if you have tits)

All in all,he's a party animal and fun for the first two weeks of Mardi Gras.

Fury

Not that into parades honestly. But will go with you if you ask,like Death.

Likes seeing all the face paint and body art going around, she'll probably try to do some on you or have you do some on her.

She will also,try and drink anyone under the table. Can ALSO drink a shit ton of hand grenades and not feel a damn thing.

She likes looking at the little shops on Bourbon Street, especially the Marie Laveaux voodoo shop.

She LOVES the dog parade in Slidell. Gets to pet all the cute puppers.

All in all,also a chill person to hang with for Mardi Gras. Not as crazy as Strife,but still fun to party with.

War

Not going to a parade. Nope,not one for crowds or anything like that.

Doesn't understand the concept of it either,and when you explain,he just shrugs and says he can BUY you stuffies if need be. Why go out,in large crowds,to drink and possibly get smashed into,run over,cussed at,spilled on,possibly SHOT,all for some measly plastic strands you place on your neck?

Oh don't even TELL him about the Boobs for Beads thing. He WILL padlock a shirt onto you if you somehow go to a parade without him. No one should be showing-or seeing-that for some stupid beads!

MIGHT have a drink or two,just to see what the hype is about. Meh,not the biggest fan.

If you DO manage to drag him to a parade,his favorite parts are the horses(duh)and the JROTC. He comments on their posture and such and enjoys the little show.

All in all,just stay home with this lovable lunk.

STAY SAFE THIS MARDI GRAS SEASON, PLEASE!

[the-broken-truth]

Darksiders - Death's Human Meets The Other Horsemen

Broken: I saw an image by @imagine-darksiders, which gave me an idea for this one shot. There's another one that I will do but I wanted to post this one first. Now, let the words weave together.

[Y/N] was feeling uncertain about how to handle the situation. They were living in a chaotic household with some of the most unusual roommates imaginable - the Four Horsemen of the Apocalypse: Death, War, Strife, and Fury. Death and [Y/N] had met while traveling together, and after Death completed a mission, they stumbled upon [Y/N's] House on the outskirts of the city. Since it had not been affected by demons yet, they decided to make it their home while Death did missions for the Charred Council and [Y/N] ran errands for Vulgrim, much to Death's dismay. About five weeks after they settled in, Death's brother War came to visit, followed by Strife, and finally, the Female Rider of the Four Horsemen, Fury, who enjoyed getting under Death's skin the most.

War didn't pay much attention to [Y/N] when it came to the Horsemen. However, Death informed him about the incredible feats accomplished by [Y/N] and him. They had defeated demons, solved puzzles, and [Y/N] even killed a Guardian to save Death. War had not been interested in humans, much like Fury. Nevertheless, Death's accounts of [Y/N]'s bravery and resourcefulness caused him to develop a newfound admiration for the unassuming woman who wore a hoodie and worked with the questionable merchant, Vulgrim.

While working for Vulgrim to collect relics, [Y/N] encountered Strife, the masked gunslinger, in the wastelands. [Y/N] asked if Strife knew of a demon named Vulgrim, to which Strife nodded in recognition. [Y/N] mentioned working for Vulgrim and compared Strife to another masked individual, Death. Strife was surprised to learn that [Y/N] had been in the company of another Horseman and revealed that Death was his brother. After [Y/N] offered Strife a place to rest, they walked to her house where they saw Death talking to a woman in armor with flowing red hair and glowing white eyes. [Y/N] and Strife paused to observe them.

"What are you doing here, Fury?" Death asked from his position on the other side of the door within the house.

Fury teased Death about her lack of enthusiasm upon seeing her sister. However, Death was serious and shared that she had finished her duty for the Charred Council. She mentioned hearing from Vulgrim that Fury was now living in a house with a human woman. Death wanted to confirm this herself and mentioned being able to smell the human even though she wasn't present.

"That would be me." [Y/N] spoke as she took a step forward, gaining both Death's and Fury's attention.

"[Y/N], what are you doing back here so early? I thought you were still working with Vulgrim around this time." Death said as he looked at the hooded human before his eyes drifted to the taller figure standing beside his human, "Strife, what are you doing here, and want are you doing with [Y/N]?"

"While searching for artifacts in the wastelands, I met a woman who works for Vulgrim. She kindly offered me a place to stay while I am in-between missions. I have also heard rumors that War is nearby." Strife said.

"War is not here at the moment, he's dealing with the Charred Council. Now, what are you doing here with…" Death noticed Fury walking over to [Y/N] with a smirk on her face, "Fury?"

As [Y/N] gazed up at The Horseman's glowing eyes, she noticed the black-painted lips that formed a smile. Before she could say anything, Fury grabbed her waist and lifted her into the air, causing [Y/N] to grip Fury's arm in surprise. She stared at Fury's smirking face in shock.

"So, you're the human that took down a Guardian? A rather interesting feat for such a small human but I found that that amazing. Why don't you come with me? I can train you to be an even stronger warrior, I can give you better adventures, more exhilarating than Death can give you, and trust me…I'm much better company than my brother." Fury purred into [Y/N]'s ear, causing the human to shiver.

"Death?! DEATH?! HELP!" [Y/N] called out to her roommate and friend, looking at him with fear in her eyes, causing Death to walk over to them and plucked [Y/N] out of Fury's Grasp, causing Fury to frown and fold her arms. Death placed on the ground on her feet before turning to Fury.

"Stop picking on my human, Fury. Death said as he narrowed his eyes at his sister, who smirked at [Y/N] who hid behind Death.

"Don't worry, Little Human… I'll make you mine before long. Until then, I'll be staying here as well. The Four Horsemen…together again." Fury smirked as she walked into the house with a sway in her hips.

'This was not going to be easy…' [Y/N] and Death thought at the same time.

[moodymisty]

How would the Horsemen react if will they discover that they have feelings for the reader?

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙| 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: Ohhh this is cute... Particularly for War, I just love big angry characters having soft emotions. Enjoy my unhinged ramblings.

Relationships: Fury/Gn!Reader, Strife/Gn!Reader, War/Gn!Reader, Death/Gn!Reader

Warnings: None

✦ War ✦

Very abruptly. It's one of those moments that hits him like a hammer.

He hadn't even been realizing how much you'd been growing on him over time, let alone that he had been falling in love with you.

But War doesn't exactly know how to go about saying it, so it ends up sitting in the back of his mind forever. War isn't exactly super in touch with his emotions, let alone expressing them.

He's awkward for awhile simply because he desperately wants to do so much, but doesn't know how to just, say it. And much to his annoyance, he feels a bit shy about it. Expect him to get angry at himself at random times when you're alone, sometimes his cheeks even turning a bit red.

He doesn't have that same silver-tongued confidence that Strife or Fury have when it comes to these sorts of things, so he feels very out of his depth.

Once you begin to notice him becoming distracted often, or simply shutting his mouth and even at times walking away from you, you ask him what's wrong. That's the moment he finally admits his inner turmoil, through a bunch of sighs and searching for the right word to use.

He's so internally happy when you reciprocate. I hope you enjoy having a massive Horsemen as your shadow, because he isn't going anywhere.

Gives the most firm and aggressive kiss. It feels just like him.

"It is not wise to love a Horsemen; But if you'll have me, I promise I will never leave your side."

✦ Death ✦

For Death, it's a slow crawl. A slow crawl that he feels agonizingly creeping up on him as time passes, no matter how much he tries to push it down deep enough inside himself where he can forget about it.

Its an emotion with a creeping dread to it to him, as he fears the longer he lets it go on, the worse it'll be for him when he has to inevitably run from it. Or you, is his excuse. He tries to put the burden of being in love an emotion coming from you to him, and not the other way around as well. It makes it easier for him to just de-tatch himself from it, or at least try to.

But when he can't, or more so realizes he doesn't want to, he accepts that you're just a part of his heart now.

It a way it sort of, unnerves him. He doesn't like having someone so close to him. Not because he doesn't enjoy it, anything but he'd die without you being right next to him, but his mind sometimes rolls through every terrible scenario. A bad habit.

He doesn't really say anything about being in love with you however, it's just a silent upgrade in your relationship. He sits closer, touches you more; Is far gentler. His hand goes to your waist instead of your shoulder, he'll call you by your name more, or even something more personal as time passes. If you don't want him, he knows you'll push him away.

"Come here and sit down, before you go running off again."

✦ Fury ✦

Fury realizes a decent while into knowing you.

She shrugs most of the small hints that she might be falling in love on simply enjoying your company more than most, or perhaps just enjoying the company of a person besides her fellow Horsemen; And various demons and angels. None of them exactly make invigorating company, at least the ladder, so she's pleased Humans despite their nature are surprisingly pleasant company.

Far better than that Watcher, at least...

But Fury's heavily defensive of making sure she doesn't show any sort of weakness, so she confesses far less overtly than someone like say Strife. Being unwaverable and confident is a part of her horrible self defense strategy, one that's hard to break.

Though once she does, that confidence definitely translates in the opposite direction. She's not afraid to woo you once she knows there's no chance of her feelings (no one can tell her she has them though or she'll get angry) being dropped off a cliff with your rejection.

"Don't look at me like that, I'm not g- Fine. I love you. Now are you done looking at me like that? It's not fair."

✦ Strife ✦ DONE

Strife falls hard. And fast.

So few people have shown him kindness in his long and awful life, he's infatuated when you show him so much of it. He swears the first day he met you he fell in love and just didn't realize it; But he'll never admit this thought.

However his desperate desire to be seen and be loved conflicts with his inner turmoil about his past and current sins, and it eats away at him until he doubts that he's even worthy of being near you, let alone loving you.

He's been of the mind that an ex-cutthroat isn't one that you should be around at all, let alone making your lover. You're his little human, he wants to keep you safe and after awhile, he sees himself as part of the things you should be kept safe from.

At the climax of it, Strife vanishes. You don't see him for days, until one day he comes rushing to you like a bat out of hell, more than likely waking you up in the middle of the night.

He'd had the frightening realization that his heart would just shatter if he didn't see you again, and if he didn't just let all this out.

He tries to spend next hour verbal vomiting every single thought he's had about being in love since meeting you, until you just shut him up and kiss him.

"I ain't going anywhere. You're stuck with me now, you hear?"

[darkdemeter]

Tis I again! With more requests for darksiders!

Can you write the four horsemen with a human s/o that Is just really supportive and really Open with their love towards them

(Like they always make them tea when they come by their home, or when they go out into the realms together their s/o makes sure they have somewhere confortable to lay down on if they need rest or something to cover them if they get cold.

They also try to cheer them up with compliments and silly jokes [war May not understand any of them but hey A+ for the effort] and are also very cuddly and have those casual touches of like,holding their hand or patting their back, or playing with their hair and maybe say "hey,remember I love you okay?" A little too often as a way of reassurance and are always up to listen to them and their problems if they need It.

They'll of course stop if theyre told to do so,cuz respecting boundaries and all)

These four need some actual love,they deserve so much better!

As always take ur time and thanks in advance!

Have a great day! (And sorry for the huge wall of text)

A HEART SO UNCONDITIONAL

◤✘DARKSIDERS COLUMN | Death/Strife/War/Fury x GN Reader

NOTES: ↳ I thought I'd take a different approach in giving each of the riders their own little short story while mixing around the elements you listed. (That's why it's taken so long.) Thank you @screechinginthevoid for this one and for being so so patient! They do, our Horsemen deserve the world! 😭 WARNINGS! ↳ A lot of angsty hurt/comfort with fluff — depictions of established relationships

✎7.2k

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DEATH

Who said that loving the reaper himself would be a walk in the park? It’s not, but the hardships don’t worry you. So trusting in him and understanding, yet you always have this overwhelming aura about you that Death remains unsure about. 

How can a human possibly have so much love and compassion for him? The very being that will take your life from this world when your time is done.

But you don’t allow that to phase you – to never stop you from reminding him each and every waking moment you share together, how much you love him and that you wouldn’t be here if it weren’t for him. You cherish him to the point he fears it blinds your mortal eyes. 

Humans, he’s found, are so fundamentally flawed by the very thing that makes them integral to the balance: their love. A power so absolute, yet corruptible and easy to turn, and though you show no sign of that tainted mark he very much believes it has been poisoned by his presence.

You hand him his mug, the dark stew of tea ringing around in tidal circles until it calms under his steadiness and the tea’s stilling reveals his reflection.

A reflection he never took part in recoiling at before, now almost flinching at the dreaded sight before him that was him. Looking up to watch you at the sink, absently humming a song’s tune to yourself as you set to working away at the dishes, he wonders if this settlement is right for you. He’s grown far too attached now. He has to stop it… but he can’t. He doesn’t want to. 

Death wonders if the seven sins have infected him with these selfish desires that keep him from severing the cord that’s already pulled you both together. Before, he could have done it without any ties of remorse to haunt him afterwards. Your love is overwhelming. How you express it, how you say it, how you care for him. 

He can’t fathom it. Finishing up your chore at the sink, you dry your hands and toss the hand towel onto the counter and wander over, a gentle grin on your lips as you reach a hand to lay on his tense arm. 

Death flinches away at the action, alerted by the sudden press of warmth that your skin brings to his colder temperature. He wishes he could succumb to that feeling, bask in its entirety but something holds him back. 

Your hand lifts slightly, your smile turned and your brows furrowed to express your sincere, silent apology for alarming him. Throughout this relationship, you have always seen how Death keeps himself well beyond the comfort you try to give him, leaving him to reserve his emotions and affection. 

You remain patient that he may eventually open up. Even if it takes you to the very end of your life, so be it.

“Hey,” you greet softly, trying again as you rest your hand back on his arm. “I was thinking maybe we could venture out to the Maker’s Realm? I thought it’d be nice to have a picnic.”

He hasn’t visited that realm for quite some time and he recognises the way you’ve been feeling stuffy inside your humble abode. Itching to be let out of your cage like a little bird. His little bird that sings happily for his ears to hear, trapped inside a cage you don’t see as imprisoning and he’s far too selfish to let you be free.

Maybe this picnic would help him ease out of this habit of keeping you to himself, that finally he can set his little bird free.

The air is fresh with the aging scent of pine leaves and the sun bathes your skin with a comfortable warmth. Through Death’s actions, he hoisted you off of Despair’s back, his grip strong and firm with you before he set you down. Just like always, you scuttle off in that human nature, the basket held tight in your hands as you settle down on the hillside. 

Death takes a moment to himself to simply admire it all – perhaps for the last time. His hand runs over Despair’s neck with an uncomfortable sense of dread he has not felt in a long time, the pain that follows the loss of something he holds dear creeping over him that in turn unsettles his loyal undead steed. 

“You coming?” you ask, voice innocently inquiring in his absence, laying out a large canvas of a day blanket atop the pasture of grass. While you stare at Death, he feels his resolve waver. 

He can’t do it. How the sun sets a glow to halo around you, hair gently tousled in the wind makes you appear like a dream. 

He can’t remember the last time he had dreamt, when he had a moment of true peace that granted him an escape from his troubles. 

He wants to stay in this place with you always but he knows he cannot. There comes a time where he must wake up. There is a time he will have to let go and say his final goodbyes. Death stalks over to where you’ve set up, intending to sit beside the laid out blanket only to catch your gaze. 

You’ve the look as if he’s committed the most heinous of crimes before a large grin crosses your features. “Come on over, I've saved room just for you.” 

Indeed you had, the blanket large enough for two, even still he harbours his hesitance. In an instant, you give him that same, sympathetic smile you had in the kitchen. “Only if you want to, whatever makes you comfortable.” 

He moves cautiously and inches himself until his weight hovers at the chequered edge. You lean against his side and rest your head against his shoulder, still smiling up at him.

“What a beautiful day. Thanks for taking us out here, I really appreciate it.”

He only huffs in response, shoulders knocking your head off balance from shoving down slightly, but you only giggle. “I do! I really, really appreciate it. We get to spend the day together in the sun and enjoy a nice picnic. And you know what’s even better?” 

“What?” He asks, voice low in his gruff timbre. Your smile is radiant. Infectious to the point that it makes something inside his chest swell and pulsate. Dangerously so that he doesn’t know what to make of it, denying the possibility that it may very well be… love. 

You raise a finger to trace down the bridge of his masked nose, so lovestruck and in awe of the way his amber eyes flicker like nervous flames, silently watching and waiting. You answer softly, “That I’m with you.”

For a second you think you catch a rare and radiant glimpse of something in his eyes but he quickly diverts his attention ahead to watch the scenery. You know that he’s troubled but in true fashion, he doesn’t unload you with any of it. He’s hardened his shell to keep his secrets from you.

You reach a hand between you and find the cool define of his long, spindly hand, your fingers entwine with his own and give a reassuring squeeze.

“Death?” You ask, eyes shifting to look at him out of the corner of your vision. He doesn’t respond but you know he’s listening.

“I understand that you keep things to yourself but I want to help. I would like to be someone you can talk to.”

“You wouldn’t understand,” he sighs. It shatters you, yet you are aware that it is the truth. 

“Have I done something wrong?” 

He turns his head to face you, eyes glaring downward and you feel your breath hitch, lungs caught in the flames of his eyes. 

“I— I’m sorry, whatever I’ve done I am sorry, I just… I don’t know what I’ve done wrong.” 

“You haven’t done anything wrong…” his head bows and his shoulders deflate with a heavy sigh. “Not intentionally.” 

“Then what is it?” You move to sit on your knees, facing him. 

“Little bird, I fear that you don’t understand what it means to love me.”

His words are a wound stabbed deeply into your heart. Still he continues, scoffing with a shrug, “It all seems tedious to shower me with your affections, only to meet your end with me. Why bother?”

“You don’t get it…” you sigh, bottom lip trembling slightly as tears cover your eyes with a shiny gloss. “Humans are so difficult when it comes to love, yes. But sometimes, we don’t get a choice in who we fall in love with. We just do.” 

You’re overcome by the sudden high of your emotions. Before you know it, your arms pull around his shoulders and drag yourself in until you sit in his lap, his hands frozen to hover over your waist. You don’t care if he doesn’t reciprocate your actions, you just want him to know how much you care for him.

“You mean so much to me, Death. Without you, I would have given up trying to survive. Without you, Humanity would have ceased to be. You are the most noblest soul I have ever come to know.” 

You recall that time. What you thought would be his final goodbye. He left you in the care of the Makers until it was deemed safe to return to Earth. It wasn’t as much of an emotional farewell on his part, but you had caved right there, as he turned his back on you to walk away — to enter the well of souls and never likely to return. 

You cried, screamed and shouted, you begged him to hear your confession. That had been the night when you realised… “I made my peace the moment I knew I had fallen in love with you.” 

Your hold around him increases as sobs rack through you. Tears wet on your lashes, you sniffle. “I’m sorry if I’m always clingy, I promise I’ll try and not be, I just—I just can’t bear the— thought of losing you again!” 

His arms move slowly to circle around your waist, his presence a haunting comfort as he holds you to him. He can’t bear the thought of telling you to stop. He can’t let you go. His little bird in the cage wouldn’t last, not with wings too damaged to fly on your own again.

To be called the noblest of souls holds a light to the high regard you hold him to. He only did what was necessary for balance, for his brother. But that night, leaving you behind knowing it was for the last time, he was shaken to his core because he found that saying goodbye was so very hard when he realised he had fallen in love with you.

And so he holds you as you cry against him, perhaps not for the last time after all.

STRIFE

With a heart of unbridled magnitude, you love hard and fiercely. It shows in the way you always throw yourself on the towering nephilim whenever he steps a foot on your front porch, face lit up in your excitement to see him shadow your doorway.

“Whoa there!” He laughs, hands taking hold of you yet resisting to use all his strength unless he crushes you like a toothpick, anxiously aware that the daggered irons of his gauntlets can so easily shred and puncture you if he isn’t careful. 

You invite him inside with a tug of his hand in yours. “Come on, come on!” You’re always so cheerful and buzzing with energy. He’s stumbling paces behind you as he’s dragged further inside where you begin to make his usual tea in his favourite mug. 

“I’ve missed you so much, it’s been so boring around here without you,” you begin to rave and rant on, hearing the creaking of one of the stools support his weight. 

You ask with a cheeky smirk, “So what have you been up to lately, handsome fella?”

He replies with a casual roll of his shoulder, “You know me, firefly. Just doing my thing as a Horseman.” 

“Sounds like you’ve been busy.” You turn, hotly made tea nestled in your hands that you set in front of him. With a thankful nod he takes it.

“You have no idea.” 

With him sitting on the opposite side of the counter, your body hunches forward, pressed to lean your weight on the surface with your palms supporting your chin as you stare with what Strife can assume to be heart eyes.

“What?” he asks, golden eyes blinking rapidly. “Did I ever tell you that I love you?” 

Your voice is sickly sweet, sung in a playful note while you tilt your head side to side, lost and aloof in some daydream. 

“Every time you see me,” he chuckles and you perk up, grinning like the cat who ate the cream. 

“Well, I love you, Strife!” You’re suddenly at his side within a flash, arms thrown around him until you’re stuck to him like sap on a branch. You hum, happy and content to have him back, head nestling against his neck. He smells strong of gunpowder and a musk of burning wood that reminds you of the winter snuggled close by the fireplace. 

“I missed you so, so much…” You sigh quietly this time. 

Strife had entered your life with a flash and a bang. Literally. He fell from the sky as a massive ball of flame that scorched and melted the world around him. Just when you needed a saviour’s hand, he had arrived. From that day forth, you were constantly stuck to his side, even the few times he tried to brush you off to someone far more capable than him to care for you, you insisted that you remain with him. He made you feel safe in a world that no longer did. 

Him? He had almost laughed. He made you feel safe? Even when Ulthane promised that no harm would befall you under his charge, you were still determined to ride with a Horseman.

Was that the point he realised he loved you? Well, you sure left that much an impression on him that he fancied something about you. For the handful of humans that managed to survive you were the only one willing to come near him, no less be with him. It only felt natural in some way when your relationship evolved into something more after a single kiss — but just as instinctual as it may have been, Strife found himself drawn into something forbidden — not intended for him. But you assured him that he was the only one you wanted, that you loved him. The complicated nature of humanity at play before his very eyes. A mortal so hopelessly in love with him of all lovers to choose from.

He strips himself of his mask, letting it sit on the counter as he enjoys his tea while you huddle yourself against him like a kitten snuggling into his lap. Strife’s siblings often remark how attached you were to him. Whenever he would spend the night, the following morning he would have to say his goodbyes until your next meeting.

It hurts him every time he has to see that sorrow flash within your eyes, before you dismiss it and assure him that you will be alright and that you will be waiting for him just like always. 

There are days where you will pace the floorplan of your home just waiting for him, to hear the familiar clobbering of hooves raging against the pavement and a snorted whiney from Mayham, who you may have a bad habit of coddling and feeding one too many carrots to from your kitchen window when Strife isn’t paying attention. Hey, he enjoys them and who are you to deny the rider of unrest itself, and it keeps Mayhem from riding your recently planted greenhouse. 

“Alright there, sweets?” Strife chuckles, his voice having grown lower with a tired drawl. You hum, happy to bask and bathe in the intoxicating warmth radiating off him that seeps deep into your bones. 

“Hard not to be when I’m with you,” you coo softly, eyes droopy and you fight hard to hide a yawn. 

“How long have you been waiting up for me?” His question takes a sudden shift as he turns you in his lap, your body small enough that maneuvering you was as easy for him as it is for you to move a feather. 

“Not… not that long, just a couple… couple ‘fhours…” Again you strain to keep yourself from yawning. But Strife sets aside his unfinished tea, already scooping you to rest you on your back in his arms and carries you towards your bedroom. You whine, hands tugging at the fabric of his scarf. 

“But Strife,” — a large yawn finally stretches your mouth open — “I don’t wanna sleep, I want to cuddle you and tell you how you’re the darndest handsome fella I could ever call my own—”

He shushes you then, hands careful to lay you down on your mattress and pull the covers over you despite the weakened struggle you put up. “How can you be so handsome, honestly? And funny, and strong and just everything I could ever want in a partner?”

The fog of sleep is close to taking you under, however, the last of your energy that wanes like a candle wick almost burnt out comes as an attempt to sit on your knees. Yourhands splay over the large front of his chest, his golden eyes bouncing in their softened gaze as he silently pleads with you to rest. Still, you remain adamant even as the heavy lead drags your lashes down together. 

“You know… I just want you to know that I love you, okay? I’m always here for you, ‘m not going anywhere that isn’t with you.”

The darkened lines of his brown brows flex up, furrowed in his contemplation over your words. It’s almost like his spiked hair became tenfold bristled under the weight of such a reminding confession. Often, you tell him these things and he still has a hard time accepting that they mean anything true. You’re a human, even love is so cruel in blinding you. 

He figures that you will eventually grow out of it. Someday, you will find another man who will take care of you. He dreads the day that you will no longer be his baby, his precious love; the bright star alight in the cosmos that guides him home every time. 

A chapped kiss lands on your forehead, almost ghosting over the contour of your skin and he leans in close with a whispered, “Sleep.”

Nestled under the covers and head draped onto your pillow you let yourself drift off into a much needed slumber. Strife sighs from his place beside you, crouched and yet still very much hovering over your sleeping form. His hand runs over his face, deeply engrossed in the endless branches of unfinished thoughts and dwelling fears.

Is it all true, what you say to him? You have this way of overwhelming him and giving him exactly what he wants deep down. You say the prettiest of things to him, whenever you kiss him he believes he’s found his heaven eternal with you in his arms. How you refuse to go about your daily life until you have expressed exactly ten times how much you love him, that when you wake up in the morning happy it's because he’s the first one that crosses your mind and because you had the sweetest of dreams about him. 

You look so at peace when you sleep. Rarely can he enjoy it, haunted by sin and haboured regrets, a place where his greatest of fears can become a manifested prophecy that warns him of what will become of him. Of you both.

So he goes without. Besides, unlike humans who require it in their health, that’s not so much the case for him. Still, your dreams must be so sweet. So innocent of him. Unknowing of the real him, the identity he can never allow you to love. 

You awaken first to the feeling of something enclosing your waist with a vice-like grip, squeezing you in and in until you're struggling for air. Secondly, the sound of choked cries and intensely curt breaths that come and go far too quickly.  Your eyes are wide, rubbing away the drowsiness in them as you immediately tend to Strife, armor stripped into clunky masses on the floor around the bed like a protective shield. 

His large shoulders heave, the warping trail of heat rising from his body as he drowns in his sleep, his arms hold around you tighter. 

“Strife, baby— it’s okay, I’m here, I’m here,” you croak, voice already trembling with tears brimming in your vision. 

He hisses out your name with such vigor that it makes something in your heart rip asunder. He sounds so angry. So guilty. 

You call to him in his dreams. His eyes open, the powerful glow of tear filled gold bright and blinding you with dark spots. His breath shifts so sharply that his body physically vibrates against you, his chin tucked and pushed into your sternum, he glances up at you and his arms weaken their grip on you. 

Your hands caress the scarred texture of his skin, fingers tracing each one with delicate intent when you feel him flinch and shudder under your touch that finds its way to comb one hand through his hair. 

He tries so hard to keep the tremble of his sobs silent yet you’re aware that his resolve has crumbled, that front he often puts up cracks under the pressure and you’re there ready to catch him. 

“I know it’s tiring to hear me say it, but remember that I love you. I’m here for you.”

His arms then curl around you, holding you so that you have no choice but to remain there with him. He doesn’t want to go back to the past, he’s unsure what awaits him in the future. All he wants is to be here in the moment with you.

With a low voice, he utters, “Too many times… but please remind me again.”

WAR

Most honourable souls are not without their contrasting attributes. The red rider is known for his stoic personality and for being an unrivaled engine of chaos and pain, you are one of the very few who see him under the battle-worn hide. 

He’s endured much, been the discarded tool to a plot set to unravel the whole cosmos asunder and and let him take the fall for it. He’s been beaten down only to get back up when he saw you hidden away, eyes wide in your terror for the fate that awaited you should he fall. 

Never once did he fail you. 

All this time, he’s been nothing short of a protector, an honourable warrior who seeks only the fairest of retribution and the security of all that depend on him to make things right and at peace. You don’t see him as the monster others make him out to be. In your eyes, he is someone very special to you.

“So where exactly are we off to, hero?” you chuckle, feet kicking up slightly with Ruin’s incredible yet lackluster stride, hooves clobbering so hard it digs puddle sized gauges into the dirt. 

War sighs, his chest easily pushing you forward in the saddle easily to it’s both embarrassing and flustering. Your cheeks brighten with a blushing pink. “We are scouting ahead. The ruins should not be too far ahead now.”

“You said that eons ago!” you huff. Eyes rolling drastically they almost fall out of their sockets. 

“It’s not been that long.”

You pucker your tongue between your lips, popping an obnoxious raspberry. The ride wasn’t at all bad, just a tad boring and your thighs were beginning to ache just a little from being sat in the saddle for a while. War’s hand had a controlled grip on the bulky chains acting as the reins, leaving your hands to either grip the horn or fumble in resting them atop of War’s larger one. The latter of which you’d feel his chest lock up with a sudan hitch buried in his throat and a smile stretching far and wide across your face. 

Your effect on the Horsemen was really that obvious, wasn’t it? Anyone can see it.

Because of your arising boredom and your need to entertain yourself, you begin to mimic the action of looking out for the ruins War spoke of, hands curving into little circles to cup over your eyes. “What are you doing?” you hear his voice ask from above and your turn your gaze upwards, hands still formed into makeshift binoculars. War will only ever admit to himself, he almost chuckled. “I’m keeping an eye out for our destination.” 

“You are being playful,” he remarks, seeing you bounce your head in agreement as your hands fall to hold the scratched metal of his gauntlet. 

“You caught me. I’m just bored, ugh!” Pouting you add timidly, “And my butt hurts.”

You jerk forward to catch yourself against the horn with a gasp, Ruin’s weight shifting to a complete stop. Turning your chin, you catch a glance at War who’s looking elsewhere other than forward, his head moving slowly this way and that as you follow his gaze. He’s scanning the nearby cliffside to your side. One wrong slip of your footing and you’d be rolling down a steep incline of rocky foliage and winding branches before you even make it to the rushing stream far below. 

But the scenery is nice. A sunset smearing softly integrated pinks and darkish purples, reveling in the warming tan of orange nearest the silhouette horizon. 

You breath out, eyes transfixed, your stun an evident and final confirmation to War that taking a small break wouldn’t be so terrible. Who knows just how long his siblings would before meeting him at the ruins. 

With a firm nudge of his boot, War commands his steed to steer himself towards the sloping hillside, the horse chuffing loudly a cluster of embers that spark and frazzle with a crackling pop like flaming stars. 

The saddle is cradled to one side with War’s dismount, almost turning you over and out of the saddle completely before he aids you in getting you off Ruin’s back. 

Your back pops delightfully from stretching and you sigh in relief. The chance to stand and pace around allows the blood flow to seep back into your legs, standing at the cliff edge, you stare out at the picturesque scene with a deep inhale of the breeze. “It’s so pretty,” you say with a toothy grin that crinkles the corner of your eyes.

As you stare in admiration, War lets himself stand beside you, a regular force of habit that something may dare try to leap out and attack you, it’s ingrained into him as muscle memory to put himself between you and an enemy. 

But you haven’t encountered any enemies. Noo once since you arrived in this realm, its atmosphere almost entirely made of a peaceful ambience. For once, War can somewhat relax. 

“I kind of miss Earth being this way.” It’s hard sometimes to think of home, it’s once way of life slowly thriving, but it will still take some time to become an inhabitable biome. Until then, you mostly travel with War. On the off chance that you must stay behind, you stay with the Makers or the pocket haven with other humans until he returns to collect you. 

Meanwhile, War silently contemplates a darker memory. Back when the nephilim invaded countless realms much like this, carving out its natural beauty to leave behind a shattered husk. His hands clench into tight fists, weight crunching the dirt under his feet with a low rumble. He thinks about the terrible rage he becomes whenever he loses control of himself, slipping into this facade that feels all too real, fearing that it may very well be the real him; that his code of honour is the facade. 

By the time he snaps out of his thoughtful stupor, he sees you playing in the dirt. 

Stick in hand, your drawing something, focus entirely on your illustration and War cannot help but half-heartedly ask, “What is that?”

“Us!” you beam, “there’s you, there’s me and this is Ruin.”

The war steed bellows a proud whiney at the mention of his name, massive head shaking the heated curtain of his mane. His front hoof paws the ground in triumph. War kneels down, body closing in that his shadow very well hovers over you while he studies what you’ve drawn.

“And… what are you doing there?”

To answer his question, you lean into him and plant your lips to his cheek with a quick peck, chuckling at the Horsemen’s expression that is too stun to compute. His frozen eyes are wide and it takes a good long while before he even blinks. He turns his head with a frightful and sudden jerk, the fading sunlight letting you see that which the overcast of his hood fails to hide — a pink dusting of a blush in his cheeks. 

“What— was that for?”

“Because I love you, silly!”

You settle yourself down on the patch of grass and pat your hand encouragingly for War to do the same beside you. Once he does, albeit the awkward motion of adjusting himself to do so, you lean all your weight against him that he supports with no issue. To him, you weigh nothing more than a feather pillow.

Your head presses to the hardened bulk of his shoulder. You sigh in contentment.

“This is really nice, being out here with you.” Your hand falls over his, the comfort of it letting all your fears and worries wash away. Whenever you try to hold hands with War, you are the one to initiate it, feeling the hesitant way his hand tense before it releases and coaxes itself to grab yours in turn. However, you decide against trying to force it. 

He asks, “You truly mean that?”

You nod in reply, cheek rubbing against his arm. “I do.”

Then you feel it. His hand turns so that his palm flatley faces up and his large fingers curl around your hand, capturing it in his grip. “You know, if I had my sketchbook right now, I’d paint you like one of my french girls.” 

Your voice had dropped into an exaggerated accent, your other hand pursing your fingers together. 

Of course, another playful jest goes right over his head by the puzzling quirk of his snowy bow. That’s joke number 1,551 and counting. Many of your journeys consist of you trying to get one joke to land with the behemoth in red, but none have seemed to catch. Your face puckers inward like you sucked on a lemon and tried not to react.

By now the sky has grown darker, stars dotting the sky’s nightly canvas and the moon rising just as the sun’s last rays kissed the mountain terrain. 

“Hey, War, knock knock…”

His lips form into a sneer, tsking in a slight of annoyance. Not this again…

He sees you’re not going to back out of this one, far too stubborn to do so. Giving in for the first time ever to the infamous two lines he’s heard too many times to count, he grumbles, “Who’s there?”

“Me?”

His eyes narrow again. You’re up to something with this, he knows it. “Me… who?”

“It’s just me, and I want to tell you that I’m thankful to have you around. Whenever I wake up, I think of you and how you’re doing, and if that someday… you’ll finally recognise that you are my hero — and not the monster.”

This is the most peculiar of jokes. But wait, you’re not laughing. You’re not waiting for him to acknowledge the play on of the punch line. You’re being genuine. “And that whenever I’m not around you, I get so scared not only for myself but for you. I care about you so much that I stay up in hopes that I’ll see you again before I collapse from exhaustion. Whenever we’re riding together, I feel secure and warm because I know you have the reins and you have me.

When you’re around, you scare away the real monsters. And that is what a hero does, and that’s what makes you my hero. Because you’ve always been there when I needed you.”

War’s eyes fall away and you take his loss of eye contact as failure. Again, he doesn’t see how much you love him, how your heart pounds rapidly when you both stand close to one another and that your heart is his for eternity. That for you, there is nobody else to love. Only him. 

His hand that holds yours drags you into lap and his lips ghost over the crown of your head, causing your eyes to widen and your chest to cease its breath. “I’ll always be there for you, my love.”

Tears mist over your vision, wetting your lashes as your arms reach around him as far as they can, engulfing him in a hug. He really is your knight in armour of creepy faces. 

FURY

Her determination remains just as strong, even now. She refuses to let you see at her weakest. All you want is to be a rock for her to lean on when things get tough. She cannot accept that, will not let you shoulder the burdens that are hers to carry.

She’s a fearsome sort of stoicism but therein lies her beauty in your eyes. Where she sees nothing but a misshapen and discarded weapon of war, you see the comings of a Phoenix rising from the ashes. A past that seeks to destroy her and yet she still fights on.  

She inspires you in ways she can hardly imagine. The days she comes to ride up to your house, elegantly sat in Rampage’s saddle with a sense of control on the reins that chink and chatter with a chainy rattle, you’re already launching yourself ten feet out of the door and making her pull hard to a stop. 

She bites your name harshly, face furrowed into a glare. You know her better than that, it shows in the coiled edges of your big and bright smile. 

“I missed you!” You cry out, bouncing on your feet like a hyped jackrabbit. 

You throw your arms around her without a second thought once she has dismounted. Despite the obvious of her much taller height, you hold nothing back in the way you hug her tightly.

She’ll feign annoyance as her dark lips turn into the faintest of smiles in the shadow of her features, a telltale sign that she appreciates these wonderful moments that she secretly misses.

However, there are times that your illustrious partner of a Horsemen will shut you out, more often than not as of late, she huffs and mutters to herself with an expression screwed into a sneer. She’s troubled by something and its mystery writhes a flare of determination within you to find a solution. A problem solver. That is what makes the bulk of your intimately struggling relationship with Fury. You try to solve all her problems, no matter the weight, big or small.

She walks with a swaying saunter towards you, Rampage pawing at the ground with a ruffled snort, shaking off the remnants of unease his rider held. “How’ve you been, Fury? Would you like some tea? I also thought we could finish reading that book together, or maybe have a late evening dinner in that realm—”

She flicks her wrist dismissively, bluntly saying under her breath, “Whatever is easiest. I don’t have the patience to decide.”

It stops you in your tracks for sure. The impact of her response weighs heavily on your heart and you bite aggressively into your lip to prevent yourself from shedding the springing flush of tears. She’s just mad, you try to reason with yourself. I have to find a way to cheer her up.

You follow her inside, watching how her body slumps forward slightly with a sigh as if she sheds the cumbersome shell of her burdens at the door and proceeds forth with a more sluggish pace. You frown at this. “I’ll make you a tea,” you say from behind and rush off to the kitchen, setting to making her drink before going off to fetch one of your comfort blankets. Whenever you find yourself in a pit of doubt, sadness and impending woe, you toss one of the soft blankets you’ve had for as long as you can remember,snuggling into its warmth as you settle in with a good book to read or a small puzzle to fix your mind on something. It always helps you, so why not try it on Fury?

You see her take a seat on the couch, posture slouched so far forward now it rivals Death. Hands clutch into the blanket, nails gnawing into it thoughtfully, praying that this works, then like a mouse you tip-toe out from your hiding place and throw the blanket over her shoulders, enveloping her in another yet shorter hug. 

“Ugh– what are you…” Her eyes shift to turn to you, lips revealing a nasty snarl on her part but she stops suddenly, seeing the flash of something cross your face. She doesn’t mean to project her anger onto you. It’s just that she can’t exactly explain why she keeps coming back to you when she is in this particular mood, feeling like she has nowhere else to go, no one else to turn to. Still, she pushes you away with every attempt you make to cheer her up. 

“A comfort blanket,” you answer with a kind smile. “They always make me feel better.” You round the couch and sit at her feet, hands taking a second guess before they find a tender placement on the armour of her leg. 

“Hey, remember I love you and I’m here for you.”

You see the gears turning like clockwork in her head, eyes torn between narrowing and relaxing and the contortion of her mouth leaves you to believe she’s fighting herself on this. She wants to say something but nothing is coming out. She’s trying to find a way to word it without hurting you to the point that it may break you. 

She cares for you, more than what she would like to admit to anyone. But it’s true. She has become ensnared by your attention, your love and the way your presence is uplifting to be around. Like a moth drawn to a flame she keeps coming back. 

“It’s hard.” It stings her to say it, but she just needs time. She needs to think this through. “I know you love me. But it’s just… it all feels too much for me.”

Your eyebrows move upward, sympathetic as she speaks her mind. It’s not common for her to be so vulnerable with you. So you take it in stride, taking in a deep inhale. 

“I’m sorry. I will do better in toning my extreme outpour of affection until you’re ready.”

Sometimes you wonder if you carry on a tad bit more than you should, giddy and over excited to see Fury even if it’s only been days between visits. 

If this is how Fury feels then it is your obligation to be supportive and respectful of her wish for space, granted it may prove to be a bit of a challenge but that is what relationships are about. Overcoming the many trials you face in one another and together. 

She nods thankfully and you hum, pressing a quick, light kiss to her forehead and then head to the kitchen, soon reappearing with her steaming cup of tea. 

By the time you get back you see she’s immersed herself in the comfort blanket, hands tugging it over herself that bit more until her focus lands on you, eyes moving between your genuine smile and the mug cupped in your offering hands. She takes the beverage with a softly muttered, “Thank you, dear.”

The two of you curl up together on the couch, and Fury lets you drown her mind with the last half of that novel you wanted to finish during her last visit, only to find that you had passed out, reading yourself into a slumber that left her tugging heartstrings no choice but to carry you to bed and lay you under the covers, bidding you a farewell. 

As you read the contents of the page, mesmerised in the storyline, Fury’s attention is only half engaged with it – the other just taking the time to admire you. 

How well you have taken her request when for sure she expected you to cry. She didn’t miss in catching the way a glossiness covered your eyes when she spoke with you, and perhaps she should feel shame for it. She’s pushing you away because she’s utterly terrified. She doesn’t register your voice saying her name, finally snapped out of it she looks to see one of her hands clenching into the couch arm, ripping and rendering its cushioned flesh. 

Before she can begin to make any form of apology, you raise a hand to pause her, understanding that her mind had been elsewhere. 

It isn’t… easy being a Horsemen. Hell, it’s not easy being a human sometimes, and the factors of this relationship should be difficult and impossible on any and all levels. You don’t let it stop either of you in the end. You do what you must to make it work, you fix her problems just as she fixes yours.

“Why are you so understanding?” she asks and your eyes widen a little, blinking a flutter of your lashes a few beating times. Your shoulders shove up and down with a steadied breath. 

“Because I—” you cut yourself off, aware that you’re it again. You clear your throat and tilt your head to the side, meeting her gaze. “Well, because that’s what you do in a relationship. You have made your concerns known and it is up to me to respect that. It’s… what humans do. We care.”

“Will you stop completely?” You know what she means. Somewhere deep inside she adores the shower of affection you show her, but delving outward is the hardened hide of a warrior. A fighter who has known nothing of love like your own. You shake your head, lightly chuckling. “Never. I adore you too much. My love is unconditional when it comes to you.”

A wider smile forms over her face then. It may not take so long as tomorrow to think this through and to be more accepting of your overbearing nature to coddle her with your love. Afterall, it was the way you expressed how you felt for her. A human so special to her, how could she deny your unconditional love?

[imagine-darksiders]

Imagine Envy stealing you from the Maker Tree after she nearly kills Fury at the church.

Ulthane will later tell you - once Fury has rescued you - that he'd never seen the Horseman so livid as she was when she realised you were gone.

And that's saying something.

[darksiderssin]

Since I'm on mine I figured I'd be the one to ask how would thr horsemen Samuael and Azrael feel about period sex?

...I mean. I'm not big into period sex but let's see what I can do. Big TW for blood if you're not keen on it either.

War: Blood doesn't bother him at all, he's more worried about you feeling weak and achey. He will bring you plenty of meat to help you get your strength back, and hold his bare hand to your abdomen if you need the heat- dude's like furnace. If you really need it, he's going to be careful with you- you're already sore, so he'll try to go slow if you need it, with a lot of attention to where you need it. He'll even help you wash up afterward with a bath, your back pressed to his chest with lots of low, affectionate rumbling.

Fury: Doesn't give a fuck in the slightest. She sympathises, so she'll make sure you're not running yourself ragged- much like War, she'll be bringing you food and making sure you eat and hydrate, and there's baths if she can manage one for you. She won't grind on you, but she will get her fingers in there, maybe a toy or two if you're good for her. She'll focus more on helping you get off, since she knows that an orgasm helps around this time of the month- she's kinky enough to lick it off, probably. She will fuss over you a lot though, but that's because she loves you.

Strife: Probably won't get in there, but will definitely rub at you to help get you off, and you can wrap your hand around his cock if you feel so inclined to return the favour. He'll stop if you have bad cramps and just hold his hand to your abdomen, even if his skin doesn't run as hot as War's does. He's definitely the kind to ask what size pussy you wear if I'm being entirely honest.

Death: Like Fury, doesn't care. The mask isn't coming off, but he'll definitely get his fingers in there, he'll fuck you as hard as you need him to. He doesn't care that there's blood on his dick, he'll clean it up later. And he will bring you food since you'll need the energy.

Samael: Oh, he's probably into it. Demons, blood, it's a thing. He's probably a bit too large to fit a finger or his massive cock in you, but he can offer his mouth at least, and purr against your crotch about how divine you taste, dragging climax after climax out of you. It's like fucking ambrosia to him. And he'll make sure you're warm, clean and fed in the meantime, and nobody is going to be bothering you for the entire week or so under pain of death. He might not be able to get you chocolate, but he'll find something else to do the job.

Azrael: Probably not. But, he will take the best care of you during your period, weaving magic to help with the pain, bring you teas that help with cramps and the lack of energy, and plenty of food. You're in good hands with him.

[kinslayyer]

Let me join in with the Darksiders oc eh? This is Mynx, a succubus merchant that always tries to get handsy with Fury while no one is looking.

She loves to scam people and tries her best to get along with the rest of the apocalypse siblings even tho she's failing miserably. (Pack it up girl failure)

(To sum it up, my contribution is a lesbian succubus ❤️)

(I wish there were more fem reader and Fury fics 😞)