#it's never good timing when the angels call

[luveline]

hi jade! I remember a while back you wrote a drabble about hotchner!reader having a really bad panic attack and Spencer and Aaron helping her at the hospital, and it gave me a lot of comfort to read it. would you be interested in writing something about Spencer and Aaron taking care of hotchner!reader as she adjusts to her new meds?

—Spencer and your brother, Aaron, take care of you when your new prescription gives unexpected side effects. fem (adopted) 2k

When things got quiet at home, you’d get tense. 

Your apartment is silent. No whir of the heating, no washing machine clatter, no voices. You sit on the couch with your legs pulled up, turned to the armrest with your cheek pressed to the seat's backing. Your phone is in your hand at a low percentage. You’ll get up to charge just as soon as you can remember what you’d wanted to be doing in the first place. 

Spencer was going to call you. He’s sweet, really. You didn’t expect for love to feel easy; you never thought someone could like you without allowances. You’re quiet sometimes, your nerves are shot. You ask for reassurance too much, too often, and you don’t believe them when they’re given. 

You aren’t smart, or funny, or particularly hard-working. 

But Spencer loves you, you’re almost certain. Or maybe he’s just content to be half happy. It wouldn’t surprise you if he called you to break up with you —what use have you been to him lately? You’re tired everyday. You can’t sleep, you can’t eat, you never want to go out. You can barely make it through the working day. 

Your phone beeps in your hand. 

Outside, it says. If Spencer’s there, please make sure he’s fully dressed.

You manage to smile weakly. Aaron saw Spencer once getting out of the shower, and he was dressed, thank you very much. You hadn’t done anything salacious as he might’ve assumed from the situation, just showered together, but Aaron always lets you know before visiting now. 

Doesn’t ask, by the way, but you don’t actually want him to. He’s like, the only good thing in your life beside Spencer. 

Aaron lets himself in and finds you immediately. “Hey, honey,” he says. 

He slipped into the affectionate older brother role not long after meeting you, and he’s been worse since you were in the hospital. Which is to say, gentler with you. 

He slips a bag of groceries onto the counter. He pans around the room. It’s cleaner than usual here, but none of the lights are on, nor the TV. You can see him notice it. 

“You okay?” he asks, pulling groceries from the bag. He’s brought milk, bread, eggs, and fresh soups from the nice store nearby. “It’s quiet in here.” 

“I’m fine.” 

“Yeah? Any wobbles?” 

He’s asking if you’ve had a panic attack or anything like it, but for the last few days you’ve felt veritably numb. “I’m okay,” you say. 

You should bring up your symptoms. Clearly, lexapro either isn’t right for you or the dosage is too much; you’re a zombie these last couple of days. Medications don’t always work straight away, so for a time you’d felt like your script was useless, serving only to make you nauseous, but the sickness has finally gone away. 

He opens the fridge to put away the groceries. He’s sliding the bread into your bread box when he says, “Honey, aren’t you gonna answer that? Your phone?”

You blink down at your phone. Spencer’s contact glows in front of a green background. 

You click answer and pull it to your ear. “Hello?” you ask softly. 

“Hey, angel. How are you feeling today?” 

You clear your throat. “Fine.” 

“I was thinking I’d come over?” 

“You’re outside?” you ask. 

“How’d you know that?” 

“Must be something in the water.”

“I’ll come up now. I brought some things for dinner.” 

You manage your first laugh that dreary day. It’s nearly normal. “Okay. I might not have room.” 

Spencer promises to be up quickly and disconnects the call. You lift your chin to find Aaron already looking at you. “Do I look okay?” you ask. 

“Beautiful, don’t worry.”

“Is this an ambush?” you ask. 

“Not an intentional one. Can I make you something to drink?” 

He’ll make you something you like, you trust. You try to sit properly on the couch before Spencer gets here, rubbing under your eyes, checking there’s nothing on your t-shirt and sweatpants. It might not matter if there were, you know Spencer thinks you’re pretty without makeup or fancy clothes, but he doesn’t necessarily have to be truthful about it. 

“Aaron,” you say, before you can forget, “did… was Jack’s soccer okay?”

He passes you a mug, squeezing your shoulder lovingly. “It was great. I’ll show you the photos.” 

“I’m sorry I didn’t go.” 

You were supposed to. Spencer even drove to pick you up, but he got here and your meds weren’t working and your heart was beating wrong, so you stayed home. 

“It’s okay.” Aaron looks like he wants to hug you, but he doesn’t. “Nobody’s mad at you for that.” 

“For other things?” 

“Nothing.” 

Your door opens again. Spencer bursts in with two things, a brown paper bag of groceries and a bouquet of flowers. It’s a pretty huge bouquet, as they go, white and pink flowers, cornflower blue chrysanthemums spotted throughout, the end of his scarf stuck in the flowers and his coat unbuttoned in the struggle. “Hey. Hi, Hotch.” 

“Spencer,” Aaron says, which is strangely warm. 

Spencer shoves the bouquet aside to see you. “Hi, you okay?” 

You force yourself to stand. It’s obvious you’re not feeling right, your head whirring, but you have to make sure he still wants you. “Spencer.” 

He puts the bouquet down. The groceries next. “Angel,” he says, meeting Aaron’s eyes quickly, then back to you, where he smiles sympathetically, “How long have you been feeling like this?” 

You’ve only taken a few steps toward him when he catches you for a hug. It’s nice and polite, but not without tenderness. He doesn’t pull your weight in like he would if you were alone, but he holds your back and sits a quick kiss against your cheek as he pulls away. 

“I don’t really know, a few days?” you suggest. 

“You could’ve told me. Or Hotch, you know?” 

“I know, I was going to, just–” You press your hand to your eyes. “Didn’t really notice it was happening.” 

“Don’t get upset,” Aaron says, coming to join you both in the kitchen. “It’s alright. Spencer isn’t scolding you, he just wants you to know we’re here for you no matter what happens.” 

“I don’t feel like myself,” you say.

“That’s okay,” Aaron furthers, holding you by the shoulder, his hand settling behind the nape of your neck, “we can talk to your doctor again, this isn’t permanent. We’ll talk to them today, if it’s what you need.” 

“I’m sorry. Not many people have such an adverse effect to lexapro, I was hoping you wouldn’t be an exception,” Spencer says. 

To your surprise, Aaron answers for you, “You couldn’t have known. This is just something we’ll have to keep doing together.” 

Someone sits you down. Aaron warms his fancy soups and toasts the bread he brought, making a plate and bowl for each of you without asking. Spencer barely balks. You manage another laugh, for which you’re rewarded with two smiles. 

Aaron can’t stay much longer, having to pick up Jack from Jess’, but he offers to come back. You decline, not wanting Jack to see you feeling as depressed as you are. He promises to call the doctor tonight and leaves in a rush. He must’ve stayed longer than he should’ve. 

Spencer is more forthcoming with soft touches once he’s gone. He didn’t eat much but neither did you, pushing the plates across the coffee table. He’s still wearing his coat. 

Fond, you reach for his chest and begin slipping buttons from the eyelets. “You’re staying, right?” you murmur. 

“If you’ll have me.” 

You open his coat and push it away from his shoulders. He dressed fancy even when he’s not going anywhere, it’s so strange, the button up and the tie and the sweater vest, all of it, but you love it. You run your hand down his vest. He lets his head dip forward. Not for kissing, just to be near. 

“What’s wrong?” he asks. 

“Just feel wrong.” 

“It’s not really a good idea to stop taking the lexapro now. It’s technically an antidepressant, and your body won’t adjust well.” He holds your waist as you hold his. “But this is weird, huh?” 

“Feels weird.” 

“Short term, uh, I think we should just try and make sure you feel alright today. Is there anything you need?” he’s murmuring, rubbing his thumb into the soft of your stomach. “I can get anything. Or we can do anything.” 

“You don’t have to… worry about me.” 

“Are you kidding?” he asks softly.

“We haven’t been…” You trail your hand to his stomach, where it stays. “I just don’t expect you to deal with this, you didn’t sign up for this.” 

“I don’t think that’s true. I had no idea what I’d find out about you or what you might go through when we first met, but I wanted to find out. I wanted to take care of you then, and I do now,” he says simply.

“It’s not good timing for me to be like this.” 

“Stuff happens all the time. I wouldn’t want to wait for you to be perfect before we met.” He smiles genuinely. “Not that you’re not perfect.” 

“I really feel like I’m not even me.” 

“You’re you,” he says, dipping so close to you that you can’t see his face anymore, just his skin.

You slouch into his chest, coaxed by long, lithe arms cradling you, as kind as anyone’s ever touched you. He smells clean, your nose finding its way to his stiff collar. 

“I’m sorry,” you say. 

“You don’t have to be. Nobody wants you to be sorry, okay?” 

It’s a new feeling. Spencer spends the night with you on the couch and doesn’t for a moment seem like it’s something he doesn’t wanna do. You end up laying on his chest, his fingers drawing lines like a meandering figure skater up your back. Twirls and loops, long laps around your spine. When your phone rings, he’s nice enough to click answer and hold it to your ear. 

“Aaron?” you ask sleepily. 

“Hey, honey. I’ll be by tomorrow to take you back to Dr. Chester’s office, alright? If you don’t want to keep taking your lexapro, don’t. But if you can manage it, take another tonight, and we’ll figure out the new plan after your appointment.” 

“Okay,” you say, feeling very small. “Thank you for doing that for me.” 

“I’d do anything. Jack says he loves you, he’s making you a painting of yourself. He’s very good at the colours.” 

“I bet he is,” you say loudly. In the background, you can hear Jack’s pleased little thank you. 

“Do you want to talk a while?” he asks.

“That’s okay, Aaron, I’m half asleep on Spencer right now.” 

“Good, that’s good. Tell him to take good care of you, okay? Or I won’t be happy.” 

Spencer laughs above your head. “When is he ever happy?” he jokes in a whisper. 

“Shh,” you say, giving Spencer a light shove. “He says he will.” You swallow a lump, as you’ve had to do all day, but it isn’t rawness that colours your voice now. “I love you. Thank you for, uh, calling the doctor. Thanks.” 

“I love you too. I’ll leave you to sleep now. I’ll come at eleven, alright?” 

“Alright. See you tomorrow,” you say. 

Your voice is weak. Spencer pulls the phone away and hangs it up, tossing it without force onto the coffee table, before wrapping his arm around you snugly. 

“It’s gonna be fine,” Spencer says. “You’ll see, things aren’t going to be like this forever. It’s statistically impossible.” 

“Ooh,” you croon, pressing your tired face back into his chest, “I love when you talk statistics to me. Tell me more.”

He draws shapes into your back, his voice a murmur as he starts to talk. 

[star2fishmeg]

ok but luke with an innocent reader sitting in his lap and she asks him to teach her how to make him feel good and he almost DIES feeling how his hands cover almost the entirety of her waist while he’s gripping her hips and moving her back and forth on his length

ʟɪᴋᴇ ᴛʜᴀᴛ

[2.5k] Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | reader wants a turn at making Luke feel good, but she’s in need of assistance from the man himself Warnings | 18+ smut, virgin!reader, reader suggested to be short (sorry!) but no height specified, protected sex, p in v, size kink, riding, making out, swearing Authors Note | okay nonnie, you sent this yonks ago but I HAD to make it a fic

Luke wasn’t entirely convinced she was as innocent as she seemed. Behind those eyes she flashed up at him, batting her eyelashes and asking him all those raunchy questions that flushed his cheeks pink every time, he was sure was a woman who knew exactly what she was doing. But he also wasn’t convinced that his friend Tyler Duke could cook without burning a kitchen down, yet he was proved wrong, so he was fully acceptant that y/n would prove yet another one of his judgements wrong. One thing he knew definitely, was that he absolutely adored and cherished how charmingly small she was compared to him. 

His hands settled around her waist, plush thighs straddled over his lap with his back pressed up against the headboard of his bed, the warm low light of his bedside lamp making their matching dainty necklaces shimmer out to each other. His cock fit snugly inside her, still and stretching her out to fit his size perfectly, with nothing but a dull ache at first which faded into a pleasurable comfort as soon her stomach flipped and fluttered with butterflies she’d never felt before, filling her entirely. Luke had unknowingly set a bar too high; no other man could ever make her feel the way he did, romantically and now sexually, his thick cock filling the capacity of her pussy, bulging out her stomach slightly which drove her up the wall in the best way possible. 

He slid his hands along her waist, palms following her curves with a blank mind, eyes widened and glazed in enticement, heart warm and melting like wax over how she made his hands seem so large naturally. He threw his head back, bumping it against the headboard before closing his eyes slowly, gasping out a ‘fuck’ deeply when she squeezed him tight. Y/n’s smaller hands lay on his stomach, fingers tracing over his abs, tensing under her touch as if he had something to prove, which he didn’t anymore, she loved him anyway and deep down he knew that.  

Watching his head tilt back, she rocked her hips cautiously just as he’d described, eyes flickering between his face and her hips, mouth falling open at the waves of pleasure gushing through her, “Is that okay, Lu? Am I doing it right?”

“That’s it, like that, shit-” he groaned out, voice breathy and low, grip around her waist unconsciously tightening at her pussy taking him, hands guiding her along his cock and dragging every vein against her walls. Little whimpers slipped through her lips, clit throbbing, calling out for his attention but his hands followed down her waist, to her hips, holding them strong as she rolled her hips along his dick with more confidence, his pants and grunts reassuring her that he was drowning in ecstasy. “That's good, angel, keep doing that,”

“What else, Lu? What about- oh fuck,” y/n asked, interrupted when he hit a deeper angle she hadn’t been prepared for, eyes almost rolling to the back of her head with a lewd thrill rattling through her bones, coaxing her into rolling her hips harder, Luke thrusting up on carnal instinct, “that, do that again, Lu! Felt so good,” 

Luke’s lips tugged into a smirk, tilting his head to look at her, adjusting his hips up again to capture her eyes flutter close with an airy moan. With comfort, his thumbs caressed her hipbones, bringing her rocking to a gradual halt before flashing a sweet smile. 

“Use your thighs and pelvis, pretty girl, I got you,” his hands guided her up and down his cock, slowly to begin with, both their breaths tangling at the filthy paradise that surged through their veins. She slipped so perfectly along his length, using her thighs to push up just to sink back down and bury him inside her, building up the courage to express how she needed him to hit her cervix and make her cry out until her voice was sore the next day. To have him pound into her as she’d imagined, ride him until her legs burned and cunt ached from his size. 

Her mouth fell agape, heat prickling over her skin and to Luke’s surprise, she quickened her pace, “Am I doing it right?”

Luke gave a guttural groan in response, eyes fixated on her tits bouncing at the rhythm of his cock burrowing into her, “Fuckin’ feels perfect, knew you’d fit- shit, you take me so well,”

She never thought she’d be in that position; she never thought a man would want her in it if she were honest. Her luck was scarce, not because she was unattractive, but because hookups weren’t her thing and there weren’t a lot of guys who wanted long-term when they were only twenty. Except for Luke, he got it. He may have been twenty-one and still had so much to experience but being a professional hockey player could be limiting, in his experience. It took a lot of sacrifices and adaption to be with one, a lot of flexibility and a tremendous amount of devotion, everything y/n had offered him willingly. She had never asked for anything more than his heart, and Luke had loved hers the day they met. Now his swelled in his chest, thundering as her face screwed up slightly, energy struggling to swallow him in the current motion he was guiding her in and as exhilarating as it felt for him, his dick twitching inside her every time she sank deep onto him and filled her capacity, he didn’t want the high to end too soon, not before she got to cum.   

“C’mere,” he mumbled with his endearing smile, sinking down into the mattress onto his back, hands sliding from her hips, down her forearms with feathery touches to her wrists, leaving an empty feeling on her skin where his hands once sat and pulling her palms flat onto his built chest. Her back arched naturally, her breasts squeezed together in front of his eye-line, what he would call lucky much to his boyish mind, but it wasn’t like she didn’t know about his forever-long love for her tits, he marked them up enough in pink and purple blossoms around the ‘L’ necklace that claimed her. “This should be more comfortable, yeah? Still get to have you bouncing on my cock that you love so much, huh? You like that? Fucking yourself on my cock?” 

“Yes,” her moans were high-pitched and breathy, head filled with desire from gliding along his cock that stuffed her. She wanted Luke to ruin her, make her remember that no one else could make her feel so sated with love as he could, and that no other cunt could stretch for him the way hers could. She relished in the way his cock dragged effortlessly, closing her eyes and letting her voice whine out raw felicity with every roll of her hips.  

Luke was known among his friends to be handsy, barely able to keep his hands to himself and even in the moment, they found their way to her lower back, slipping down to cup her ass firmly, fingers kneading into her flesh like his own stress toy and something about the quiet possession of Luke’s infatuation sparked a brief surge of energy. Y/n rutted faster, with a slither of more force than she had been that had him bottoming out and hitting the deepest parts of her with every bump that took Luke by surprise, guttural moans splurging into the room until fading into desperate whimpers as walls clenched him tight. He bucked his hips up to meet her, to match her pace, to continue his ecstatic high that rushed to his head and fizzled his brain, grunts becoming louder.

“You’re pretty easy to please if you’re making noises like that,” she weakly smirked, sweat beads dripping down her temples, the vault in her chest that held confidence unlocking and seeping through her veins the more Luke’s voice left his lips, hearing his pleasure with her ears felt like a personal heaven and she could listen to him whine and writhe under her all night. 

“Can’t help it, you’re just so tiny it drives me insane, fuck-” he rasped, voice vibrating through his chest as he thrust up, a craving for that fuzzy feeling in his stomach controlling him like a puppet. Seeing his hands mould over curves perfectly reminded him that he could see his own cock moving in and out of her. 

“Oh yeah? What else drives you insane?” y/n panted, moving one hand from his pectoral and tracing one finger down the crevices of his abs just to lay her own hand flat against the bulge in her stomach and how it moved inside her, watching the fire light up in Luke’s eyes and feeling his need to impress shoot through her. He wanted to make her feel good, so good that she’d be thinking about it for weeks, but her stomach was coiling, a tight feeling and a keenness to coat his cock white and no man could resist a boost to his ego.

“The thought of stretching that little pussy, my hand around your throat, when you ask me for help because you can’t reach, and your cute panties peek from under my shirt,” he murmured, curls sticking to his forehead and his hand snaking from her ass to her nape, eyes searching hers, occasionally drifting to her bouncing tits he just had to get his mouth on some time.

Boost a man’s ego, it benefits both parties in this case. Lulling her head to one side, she gave her best doe eyes she could in her limping state, her legs losing their pace but pussy pulsing, calling out Luke’s name, for his fingers to touch her, “Well, can you help me now? I can’t reach my orgasm without you,” 

Their eyes locked but he watched her hand move from her stomach to find his free hand, bringing it to her clit. He gave a simpering smile, raising his eyebrows yet obeying her demands and the pad of his thumb jolted cold against her burning bud, “Does my angel need me to rub her clit too? Like my fingers that much?”

“S’better when you do it, shit-” she breathed, breath trembling when his thumb began to circle her clit in slowly with firm pressure, “-yes Lu, like that, so much fucking better, need you.”

His chest swelled, being needed. She needed him. He’d never felt like anyone needed him personally before. Hockey didn’t need him; hockey needed a defenceman, and he just happened to fill that vacancy. But she needed him, just him and no one else could hear the aphrodisiacal noises of his girlfriend that filled his bedroom like music through a speaker. No one else could send shockwaves of pleasure through her system, have her eyes roll to the back of her head and most importantly, no one else could teach her how to ride his cock, have it drive in and out of her because her pussy was moulded for him and him only.

She leant into him, half from his hand on her nape pulling her softly and half by her own will and dire need to taste him. That space between them closed in a frenzy, noses bumped clumsily but wet lips pressed together, tongues asked no permission and jumping straight into their tango, moaning into each other as they lapped with saliva pooling in the corner of their mouths and moving in a languid rhythm. 

His cock continued to plunge into her cunt, the slapping of wet skin seducing elongated, muffled whines from her with the coil in her stomach tightening every two hits to her cervix. Y/n pulled away panting, fizzling excitement in her chest with how he whimpered at the loss of her tongue on his own, his thumb rubbing over her clit in a satisfying rhythm that coaxed her closer to her climax.

“Wanted you to be the first,” she muttered between mewls, “and only, only need you. Need you to ruin me, Lu. Just wanna fit you.”

Luke threw his head back into the pillows, his heart palpitating harshly in his chest and releasing pants that strained out into whimpers hearing her voice chime in his ears. It was then he was reminded that he was the first and only, he was the first man she’d ever ridden, and he was teaching her how to do it, how to make him feel good and feeling ‘good’ was such an understatement for the truth. He was in heaven, the tight knot in his stomach ready to snap but he felt too delirious to let it end. From her nape, his hand slid down her back, palm flat and pushing her into his chest, nipples brushing against his skin until the intimacy of skin-to-skin eloped him like a hug, other arm winding around her waist and gripping her ass again, the corners of his lips quirking upwards at how she slotted like the last puzzle piece for him in his frame and hips stuttering with frantic greed.

Goosebumps ran along her when he nuzzled into her neck, his breath fanning and his moans muffling into her as his hips snapped up faster, with more need, y/n’s jaw slacking open. He drilled with so much ecstasy that she almost forgot she was supposed to be rolling her hips, content with letting him fuck her limp but the combination of gliding along his cock and clenching around him so tight he had to muffle his groans out to avoid a noise complaint sent too much dizzying euphoria to her head. 

She rolled her hips again, the noise of their bodies working together almost obnoxious and thankfully Jack had gone out for the night, “Baby, please say something, wanna know if you feel as good as I do, m’gonna cum,”

He chuckled with his dopey grin into her neck, moving his lips to her ear and his voice rumbled, “Sorry, baby, fuckin’ me so good you’re makin’ my head go blank. I can’t think straight inside your pussy,”

Y/n’s muscles relaxed in relief, shockwaves washing through her before completely moulding into Luke, his hands holding her into him as the coil in her stomach released, wanton moans blessing his ears like his favourite song of the century, raw from her chest and like nothing he’d ever heard before, high-pitched and elongated with trembling thighs as she coated his cock white. Hearing her orgasm tear through her, his thrusting became sloppy, desperate until he spilt into the condom, arms wrapping around her waist and their breathing trying to find each other's pace in the silence of the room. They didn’t have to say anything to know how each other felt, their heartbeats matching, sweet kisses against cheeks and necks with gentle caressing of hands soothing over skins. Words didn’t need to express the depth of their love; they just knew each other like that.

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs

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[peppermintquartz]

stuck in an elevator

Someone with a sick sense of humor must be writing my life, because a benevolent God sure as hell would never plan this, Tommy thinks in his bitchiest mental tone. Then he snorts. As if anyone would be interested enough to write a single paragraph about him.

The other occupant of the elevator pointedly does not look at him. Evan Buck keeps his tone so neutral, it's almost robotic. "What's so funny?"

"Nothing. I mean, of all the places in Los Angeles to visit on a day off, we end up at LACMA together. And now we're stuck in the same elevator. What are the odds?" The ludicrously serendipitous nature of this encounter is keeping Tommy from other, less-pleasant thoughts, namely being trapped in a space without a view of the outside world. His pulse is starting to race.

They tried calling 911, but the signal in the elevator was poor. Thankfully the emergency intercom did connect to the museum's operations office, who has contacted emergency services.

"I should've taken the stairs," Tommy grumbles. His skin itches with the need to feel fresh air.

"With that boot on your ankle? Then you're dumber than I thought you were." Evan Buck finally glances over, his blue eyes scanning him from head to toe. "How did you injure yourself anyway?"

"Tripped when I was getting out of the bird," Tommy replies honestly.

Evan Buck scoffs and shakes his head, but his expression softens. "You doing okay otherwise?"

There are so many ways Tommy can answer. He can pretend he is perfectly okay. Somewhat okay. He can claim that he misses Evan Buck, but he wants to be friends, just friends. He can be flippant. Make it funny, keep things superficial.

But this is Evan asking him.

"I miss you like a heartbeat" is what comes out instead. And it's true - Tommy feels like an automaton, moving through time, his routines carrying him along from dawn till dusk.

Entire days going by without a single text from Evan Buck feel empty and pointless. The bedsheets need to be laundered but Tommy doesn't want to lose the final traces of the last time they slept in the same bed. There are books Evan Buck brought over to read when Tommy wants to watch a movie.

And now they are stuck together, in an enclosed metal box, and Tommy is trying not to think about that while also trying not to think about how much he wants to kiss Evan. So he vacillates between a bone-deep phobia and a bone-deep yearning.

"I'm sorry. That was too heavy to lay on you like that." His fingers are clammy where his palms are on the mirrored wall. Licking his lips, he says, "But I don't want to lie to you. Not about anything. But I'm good otherwise, Evan."

"I'm not." Evan inhales deeply and blows out his breath. "I'm... I'm baking every time I think about texting you or calling you. The loft smells like a goddamn bakery. And still, still I can't forget the way you smell, the way you sound, the way you fucking taste. I want - I want so badly - to turn back time, figure out what I said wrong that made you run from me. Maybe I wanna be mad at you. I don't know. But I'm not good, Tommy. I'm not gonna be good for a long time."

"I'm sorry," Tommy begins, but Evan cuts him off.

"I don't want you to be sorry," he snaps, and to Tommy's shame, his eyes well up with tears. "I want you to be mine. I want to be yours. I want... I want us, together. That's what I want. I don't wanna be good, I don't want you to be sorry, I want us to be happy together, that's all I fucking want!"

The silence that falls between them is thick as concrete.

His hands and feet are cold now, and he thinks he is a little dizzy. Gulping down a breath, Tommy says, "I shouldn't have run. It was... I was afraid. That... that you'd see me and everything I'm not."

This is when Evan sighs and turns to face him. "I should've chased after you. I was afraid too. I moved too fast, I know now. But you running away and ghosting me after was a dick move."

"I guess we both have a lot to work through." Tommy manages a tight smile. He is starting to feel lightheaded, and his breathing is picking up pace despite his best efforts to stay calm and distract himself with Evan's presence. His hands are clammy and he tries to wipe them dry on his jeans. "Evan?"

"Tommy?"

"How long before 911 arrives?" Tommy's mouth is dry. His vision sparks and he is valiantly trying to hold on to his composure, but he feels like he's boiling in his dark blue henley; he needs air, he needs the sky, he needs space to flee-

"Tommy!" Evan is right next to him, keeping him from collapsing and hurting himself. His touch grounds Tommy in the present moment, and his face this close blocks out the sight of the metal coffin they are stuck in. "They'll be here soon, okay? It's all good, they'll be here soon. Breathe for me, come on, inhale , two, three, four; hold, two. three, four..."

Evan talks him through the breathing exercises, holding him up and against himself, all the way even after the elevator lurches back to life and delivers them to the next floor safely.

After he's helped out of the elevator, Tommy wretches and vomits all over the floor, some of the sick getting on Evan's nice shoes.

"Sorry," says Tommy, eyes tearing from the force of the nausea, his big frame trembling.

"They're just shoes," says Evan, soothing a hand along his spine. To the attending paramedic, he says, "He has mild claustrophobia. Not usually a problem, but we were in there a while."

Tommy follows the paramedic - Jefferson - to a bench, accepting a quick look-over. To his surprise, Evan stays with him. Jefferson doesn't see anything wrong other than shock and leaves them with a blanket when another call comes in, about some old man and a broken hip.

Tommy finally recovers after about twenty minutes. He smiles wryly at Evan. "Sorry. You don't have to stick around, there's a lot to see in LACMA."

"Tough luck chasing me off," says Evan. There's a determined set to his jaw.

"Evan, I mean, Buck, surely you have other places to go."

"First of all, I hate hearing you call me Buck. Second of all, I'm not going anywhere. I know exactly what I want, and I'm pretty sure I know what you want."

"Yeah? What do I want?"

"To be my forever," says Evan. He looks Tommy in the eye. "And I know enough about myself and relationships, a-and love, to say that I want you to be my forever too. So. Hah. I'm sticking around. Sucks to be you."

Tommy huffs out an amused and exasperated breath. "Still a brat."

"Yeah? Well, you can either put up with me, or you can do something about it." But there's no hiding the curl of his lips.

[seitmai]

As always many thoughts...

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters." "Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch.

Of course he wouldn't 😅

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something." "Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her. "They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

Hahah this whole conversation cracked me up 😂

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

Ok rude of Bradley, it was just a nice thought 🙄😒

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered." "Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

🥰🥰🥰

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner. "You're never fast! You like to linger!" "It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

Haha I can't with him

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

Of course he does 🤭

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. "I could always nurse you later if you want." "I take it you're interested in my offer." "Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off."

🤭🤭🤭

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

Oh no, she is too hard on herself 🥺

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel."

Oh don't act like a saint Jake, we all know you wanna marry her sooner rather than later an if Cat had a buch of trauma and needs time because of that, they would have been married already 😅

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Dad Jake 🥹🥰

Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Maybe maybe there is something else going on, hmm 🤭

"You look like a DILF."

He sure does 😌

"Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?" You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

Hahaha this is so Bradley 😅

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight. "You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

He just loves to be with his girls 🥰

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag.

🥰🥰🥰 

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

He is living his best life 😅

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away?

Yes, he absolutely 100% is

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

Oh oh this feels like trouble 😬🫣

Aim for the Sky Part 27 | Rooster x Reader

Summary: Bradley is required to travel for a week, and both you and he are exhausted. He's hoping this will mean fewer deployments in the future, but in the present, he's going to need to remember where his responsibilities lie.

Warnings: Angst, adult language, lactation kink, body image, fluff, smut, DILF Roo

Length: 3900 words

Pairing: Bradley "Rooster" Bradshaw x Female Reader

Aim for the Sky masterlist. This was written to accompany my series Is It Working For You? along with a bunch of my one-shots and other series, but it can be read on its own! Check my masterlist for the reading order.

Once again, your parents extended their stay to spend more time with Rose, but when they finally flew back to Maryland, it felt strange to be on your own with your daughter. You and Bradley fell into a regular routine once more, but it took him days before he came clean about being stressed out. When he got home late from work to find you on the couch feeding Rose, you could tell by the set of his shoulders that he'd had a long day.

"Can we talk about some things?" he asked, bending to untie his boots. You'd been wanting him to confide in you for days, but you were already exhausted again from the late night feedings and had pushed the comments Bradley made to Jake to the back burner.

"What's on your mind?" you asked, secretly pleased that he leaned down to give you a long, needy kiss, complete with his big hand on your neck, before kissing Rose as she ate. It had been a few days since you and he were intimate, and your body was already responding to him as he dropped down on the couch next to you.

"Can we just move to La Jolla? Nothing stresses me out when we have copious amounts of champagne and oral sex."

You laughed at his unexpected response as he ran his rough fingers along Rose's fuzzy hair. "Don't forget about the seafood platters."

"Sweetheart, I'll never forget about the seafood platters," he promised, turning to look at you as his head sank back against the couch. "Your mom and dad are serious about moving out here."

Your smile started to fade away. "Yeah, Roo. They are. And I thought you were pleased by that fact."

"I am." His brown eyes remained fixed on yours. "I am. I told you I was. I want them close, but not too close. Like, I don't want them next door where they can hear me call you my filthy little slut or something."

"Bradley," you said, laughing again as he took Rose in his hands to burp her.

"They don't need to know the ins and outs of how you call me Daddy while you're gagging on my cock either." He kissed the baby on her forehead. "Sorry, Nugget. I'll teach you one day how babies are made, and you'll probably cringe the whole time."

You sighed and reached for Bradley, cupping his jaw in your hand and stroking his mustache with your thumb. "My parents are seriously getting their house ready to sell. So just give it to me straight."

He nodded. "I don't want them over here all the time, okay? I love them, I really do, but they take over our house when they come. And even though we finished the attic so they could have a place to stay when they're here, Rosie can move her bedroom up there when she's older. So it wasn't a waste of time since the contractor saw your tits."

"It was a photo of my tits! I didn't just whip them out for him to see!" Now Bradley was laughing as you said, "It sounds like you're worried about having some boundaries if my parents become our new neighbors."

"Yes," he replied, nodding as you ran your fingers along his jaw. "That."

"I'm sure we can have a conversation with them and address all of your concerns." Rose seemed to be done burping, and you were treated to the view of Bradley cuddling your four month old against his chest. "Now, can you tell me what else made you have a bad day at work?"

"What makes you think I had a bad day?" he asked, placing soft kisses on Rose's cheek. "I could never have a bad day when I get to come home to my girls." You sighed as he ran his nose along her hair and inhaled deeply before he met your gaze. "Okay. It's not the end of the world, but Mav informed me that I need to take a trip to the Naval Airstation in Fort Worth. I don't really have any details yet."

"Okay," you replied softly, finally voicing what had been on your mind. "Well, maybe Rose and I can come with you for a few days? I can't remember exactly how much vacation time I have left, but it could be fun. And you did say the next trip should be for the three of us to enjoy together."

Bradley shrugged and immediately said, "Fort Worth in August? Baby Girl, it's going to be miserably hot. I know you, for some reason, miss the east coast humidity, but this is going to be gross. Ask Jake about it, he's from that ridiculous state."

You couldn't believe how quickly he shut it down. "It was just an idea," you mumbled, watching him snuggle the baby. "So you wouldn't have to miss Rose the whole time while you're away."

His head tipped back as he sighed. "I'm taking this new position so I can hopefully deploy less often and be here more later on. Even if I have to start working longer days, a week or two away from home is nothing compared to five months."

You bristled. "I understand that, Roo. We've talked about this so much. But maybe try to be a little bit more patient with the idea of my parents moving here so I can have a support system when you're busy?"

When you stood and rushed toward the bedroom, Bradley was right behind you, hand reaching out to grab your shoulder while he still held Rose tight. "Are you mad at me?"

Your stomach roiled with irritation, annoyance and disdain. You hated when you got like this, because he was the one who could bring out the best and also the worst in you. "I don't know."

-------------------------------

You were kind of quiet at home. Bradley hated it. You were a bit more vocal during sex, but that certainly didn't make him feel any better about the rest of it.

"I have my dates for Fort Worth," he informed you when he strolled in from work with some yellow flowers and a new book for Rose. Today was important to him. He wasn't sure you'd remember why, but he still wanted to acknowledge it.

"When?" you asked, continuing to make dinner while he looked around for the baby. "She's napping in her crib," you added, seemingly knowing he always wanted his daughter nearby.

"Second week of August," he replied. "So, pretty soon. But just for a week." You nodded as Bradley walked closer, and he realized what you were cooking. "Marry Me Rooster?"

"Yeah." Your voice was soft as you looked at him over your shoulder. You were also still wearing your khaki uniform, and he could tell you were tired. He was tired, too, but he wanted things to feel more natural around here again. He didn't want to accept that this was just how things would be now when the two of you were taking turns getting up with Rose all the time.

He wished he hadn't made such a fuss about your parents, because he really did love them, and it would be nice to have some help occasionally. And now he felt like you were continually annoyed with him, and he had to figure out a way to fix this.

Your voice broke into his thoughts. "It's kind of a special day?" 

You sounded unsure. Like you thought maybe he didn't remember. But a smile immediately found his lips, and he gestured to the flowers. He should have known you'd remember. You remembered everything. You just made him a seafood platter to celebrate Carole's birthday the other day.

"I proposed two years ago." You visibly relaxed at his words as you took the flowers in your hands. He stroked the diamond ring on your finger as he said, "I couldn't wait another minute after I found this in the storage unit. I needed you to wear it. I needed you to say yes." You melted into his arms, and he kissed your forehead. "Can I go ahead and propose something else right now?"

You nodded and hummed, lips brushing the scars on his neck. "I'm just happy you remembered."

"Sweetheart, I remember everything," he promised. "And I propose that we plan a trip for the three of us before the year is over. We can go anywhere you and the Nugget want."

Your eyes lit up as he cupped your perfect cheek in his hand. "I have so many ideas, Roo."

"I knew you would. Can I make another proposal?" When you raised one eyebrow, he whispered, "How about we mess around before Rose wakes up?"

He was already wrapping his arms around you, turning you toward the hallway when you said, "But what about dinner?"

"We'll be fast," he replied confidently, turning off the stove burner.

"You're never fast! You like to linger!"

"It's a new era, Baby Girl. The mom and dad era. I'll learn how to be quick so we can finish before she wakes up."

This was the closest thing to a true quickie Bradley had experienced in a long time. Maybe ever. You were pushed up against the wall just inside the bedroom, belt jingling with your pants down around your thighs. He was going hard at a nice, steady pace with his hand inside your bra. Your warm milk dripped between his fingers and along his palm as he whimpered. 

"Oh, I love this so much," he whined as his other fingers found your clit. "I'm not happy about making this quick. I might need more later."

He could already hear Rose getting restless in the nursery down the hallway, her soft cries ramping up as Bradley slammed his cock into his wife. He wanted to make sure he got you off before he was done, but then you went and said something so hot, he knew he wasn't going to be able to hold on much longer. 

"I could always nurse you later if you want."

When he came, his vision flooded with dizzying color. Bradley lapped your milk from his hand, moaning your name as his hips eventually slowed. Rose was wailing now as you bent down to pull your pants up, cum dripping down your inner thighs as you looked at him with a little grin.

"I take it you're interested in my offer."

"Absolutely," he rasped, pulling his pants up so he could go say hi to his daughter. "If I ever say no to your tits, something is definitely wrong, Baby Girl. That would be your cue to take me out back and finish me off." You laughed when he said, "Happy engagement anniversary. I'll go take care of the Nugget."

-----------------------------

"When's the wedding?" you asked Jake as you dropped your tray next to his at lunch. He was eating the most delicious looking burger and a slice of pizza, and your soup and salad looked pitiful next to them. Seemingly no matter what you did, you'd stopped losing weight since the baby was born, and right now you were so exhausted, you couldn't even think about starting an exercise regimen.

"We've been engaged less than a month," Jake drawled, shoving some of the accompanying fries into his mouth. "Maybe some of us can wait a little longer to get hitched than your husband could, Angel." You rolled your eyes dramatically at him, but you were fighting a smile. "I'm trying my best to make sure that everything is in order for Jeremiah, if I'm being honest."

"Like what?" you asked, blowing on a spoonful of your soup.

Jake heaved a deep sigh, dragging a fry through ketchup. "He already calls me 'dad'. His speech was delayed, but it was still one of his first words, probably because I was around so much. I want to make sure Cat's ex doesn't get any rights, and if that means I need to hire another legal team before we get married, then so be it."

Tears stung your eyes as you patted his cheek gently. You knew you were lucky that you and Bradley were together and that he would do anything to take care of his child, but right now you were just so happy for Jeremiah. "He's such a sweet kid, Jake. And you love him so much."

"I do," he replied before taking an enormous bite out of his burger. You let him chew in silence while you picked at your lunch. Right now, you really wished Bradley was here, but the chances of him showing up were slim when he was out shadowing Maverick again. He was leaving in a few days for Texas, and you were feeling pretty emotional. It would just be you and Rose at home for a whole week by yourselves.

"Well, if you're looking for a nice venue, I know a good parking lot."

Jake barked out a laugh. "There's too much sentimental Bradshaw bullshit in that parking lot. No way I'd be allowed to get married there."

Then Cat showed up, and Jake's attention immediately shifted to her. You poked your salad around on your plate, wondering why you were so damn tired. You still had four more hours of work to get through before you had to pick Rose up and make dinner. Maybe you could just get pizza. But you shouldn't. But it sounded so good as you watched Jake eat his. But your hips and belly were already so big, you couldn't let yourself.

Your afternoon was filled with checking code that someone in Annapolis had entered, and they'd done a really shitty job. When you left your office, your eyes were tired, and you could feel yourself caving. You ordered a pizza and picked it up on your way home with Rose. Then you ate half of it on the couch while you fed her. And when you were done, you really wanted to cry, because you didn't know why you couldn't control yourself right now.

"I'm starving," Bradley groaned when he walked in. "You got pizza?" he asked, shoving two slices stacked up on top of each other into his mouth and moaning. Then he dropped down onto the couch and polished them off while you switched Rose to your other side. "I need to remember to pack my dress blues for Fort Worth."

"Why?"

Bradley shrugged and reached for the next slice. "Apparently, there's some sort of reception for the aviators that are selected for Top Gun in the fall. I don't know how much sway I'll have, but I'm really hoping I can pick some good ones for the next generation of the program since I'm aging out."

"You're not aging out, Roo!" you gasped. "You chose a different career trajectory!" 

"I mean..."

"Stop. You're not old. Don't even try to tell me you're old."

"I'll be forty soon."

"You're thirty-eight."

"That's almost forty."

"You look like a DILF."

He reached for the last slice of pizza, folded it up and ate it while he reached for Rose. Like usual, she curled up on her father. Her features looked so much like his, but he was always the first one to argue with you about that, so you said nothing while he chewed up his food.

"I need you to help me pack for hot as hell Texas. I'm thinking just shorts besides my flight suits and uniforms?"

"I'll help you as soon as Rose goes to sleep for the night."

Bradley took the reins for the rest of the evening while you tried not to fall asleep before the baby. That was much easier said than done, but at least Bradley supervised tummy time while Tramp licked Rose, and then he gave her a bath. He read bedtime stories and changed her into pajamas so you didn't have to, gently setting her in her crib before joining you where you sat in bed yawning.

"You okay?" he asked, brushing his lips along your cheek before heading to the closet to start pulling out clothes to pack.

"Yeah. I just wish I didn't order the pizza, because it's empty calories, and it probably made me feel worse and more exhausted in the long run."

"But it was delicious," he muttered, piling up some of his favorite tropical print shirts. "Be honest, how many of these do you think I'll need?"

You snorted. "Unless every night is happy hour at the Copacabana, probably none. But knowing you, I'd pack at least two."

"See, you understand," he muttered with a smile as you chose two of your favorites and handed them to him. It was strange watching him load things into a duffle bag for something other than a deployment or special mission. You knew exactly how long he'd be gone. You knew it was just for a week and that he could FaceTime you and Rose whenever he wanted to, but it still felt like you were sending him away.

"We're going to miss you." 

He immediately tossed the bag onto the floor and joined you in bed. "Don't cry, Baby Girl," he whispered, swiping at tears you hadn't realized were already filling your eyes. "I'll barely be gone at all. And I don't even have to finish packing tonight. I can do it later."

You nodded and let him envelope you in his warmth. That's how you eventually fell asleep.

----------------------------------

"This sucks," Bradley said for probably the hundredth time in the past hour. Standing at the curb at San Diego International Airport with a beautiful wife and a beautiful daughter, being forced to leave them for a week, was actually awful. He didn't want to go. He wanted to continue to cradle Rose against his chest with his arm wrapped around you until he missed his flight.

"You have to go now so hopefully you can do this less frequently in the future," you whispered, voice shaky with emotion. You looked really tired, and Bradley knew you wouldn't get much of a break this week. That's why he'd arranged for Nat to check on you at home a few times whether you wanted her to or not.

"Count on it, Sweetheart," he murmured, placing kisses to Rosie's soft hair as her little fingers poked at the insignia pins on his uniform. "And I need you to be a perfect Nugget for Mommy. I'll call later tonight after I get settled in the barracks."

"Okay." Your voice was muffled as you buried your face against his neck. "I love you."

"I love you both," he promised, collecting his final kisses from Rose before buckling her into her car seat in the back of the red Bronco. Then he got a particularly filthy kiss from you that left both of you grinning before you started to shove him toward the airport entrance.

"You need to go or you'll miss your flight. And then Mav will be on my case about it."

Before he ducked inside, he cupped his free hand to his mouth and shouted, "I love you!" He watched you blow him a kiss and then pull away from the curb before he headed to the counter to drop off his bag. 

He hated traveling like this, in his uniform. It felt like everyone milling around, trying to check their bags, was looking at him. He was only wearing it today, because he wasn't sure what to expect when he arrived at a base he'd only visited one time years ago. The last thing he wanted was to seem unprepared in front of an admiral, so he wore his khakis as a precaution.

"Lieutenant Commander. Where are you headed?" asked the airline agent when she looked at his pins.

Impressed, he replied, "Dallas-Fort Worth."

She took his duffle, wished him a good flight, and then Bradley slept for the entire time he was in the air. Maybe you weren't the only one who was exhausted, because the nap seemed to do wonders for him. He woke up feeling rested, and just as soon as he sent a text letting you know he landed, he was off in search of a rental car.

To his absolute delight, all he had to do was ask nicely and flash his most charming smile, and he was handed the keys to a brand new, black Bronco. It was a model year newer than your red one back at home, and he was excited to scrutinize all of the little differences as he drove it around for the week.

"Don't like the lack of a car seat," he muttered, tossing his bag onto the backseat where he was so used to seeing Rose's infant carrier. 

Was he really that guy? Did he already miss his kid enough that he had to open up the photo gallery in his phone and scroll through a few pictures before he could drive away? Apparently he was, and it made him ache to be away from her. This was so much worse than going to La Jolla without his daughter, because right now, he had neither of you.

When his stomach started rumbling for dinner, he drove to the barracks and showed his identification, only to be told his room wasn't ready yet. So he went right back out to the Bronco in search of dinner. He knew the name of a tavern popular with officers in the area, so he typed it into his GPS and headed in the direction it told him. He had to laugh, figuring he was about to walk into the Lone Star version of the Hard Deck, but that's kind of what he wanted right now. Dinner somewhere that felt comfortable if not familiar.

"Oof." It looked like a dump compared to his bar at home, but it seemed popular, and he was hungry enough that it didn't matter. When he walked in, he took a quick survey of the space before grabbing an empty stool at the bar. He ordered your favorite beer and a sandwich and took his phone out, careful not to set it on the bar in case the owner was part of some sort of association along with Penny.

He tried reading an article, but he felt as though he was being watched. Bradley tried to ignore it, fairly certain he didn't know anyone on base here, but the feeling nagged at him while he ate. The twang of music playing on the jukebox was distracting, but not distracting enough. When he finished his food and wiped his mouth with a napkin, he picked up his bottle and drained the rest of his beer while he glanced around. 

Then he saw a young woman in a flight suit playing pool not too far from his spot at the bar. Her bright blue eyes were focused on his face, and her lips curled into a grin before she bent to sink her shot. Her patches told him she originated from Virginia Beach like he did, and that her call sign was Indigo. As Bradley turned, ready to sign his bill and leave, he saw her approach out of the corner of his eye.

"Can I help you?" he asked, turning her way again with one eyebrow raised. She was attractive, even up close, and he remained silent while her gaze traveled from his face down to his chest where his name tag was displayed. Then she gasped in delight.

"Lieutenant Commander Bradshaw," she said, eyes snapping back up to meet his. "All the way from Top Gun. I've been waiting to meet you for weeks, Sir."

------------------------------

Well, I hope BG is having a nice time at home without her husband. Thanks @beyondthesefourwalls

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[alllgator-blood]

Okay I promise my next post will be the angst comic part 4 but FIRST. THE ONE AND ONLY THING I SHIP

LITERALLY THE SECOND PERSON WHO GUESSED THE PAIRING GOT IT CORRECT??? THAT WAS FAST. This is a situation where I have to go "okay hear me out" because it makes 0 sense to anyone but me. This is really long and very dependent on my au comic nobody but me has read, but the TL;DR is:

I feel like they'd be a good pairing because shamura loves to learn but doesn't care about material goods, and mystic seller is used to all gods talking to them only BECAUSE they offer material goods. So when somebody actually wanted to know about *them* personally and what it's like to be a weird angel thing, the two established a bond. Also they're both agender and most likely asexual AND don't seem to be socially aware despite being ancient wise beings that know seemingly everything, so they understood each other like instantly.

I have a lot of sketches of them hanging out but here's a shitpost sketch thing I made AAAAAGES ago

Okay so from an in-game standpoint, mystic seller pops up to tell you how the post-game works with purgatory and all that, and introduces the purged bosses. Really ratau could've done that as the established Tutorial Guy, or even narinder but there IS the chance that you killed both of them (lol) so mystic seller is the unkillable, all-knowing angel that shows up to say "you suck at killing people. The bishops are trapped in purgatory, you know. You should probably do something about that".

But from like a CHARACTER standpoint what do they stand to gain? They're not even from your dimension so why should they care, they're just here for your god tears? From the dialogue about the bishops we can see that they don't really give a shit about any of them, EXCEPT! SHAMURA? Mystic seller doesn't feel emotions like "our kind" does but one of the only times they do, it's to say it's a shame what happened to shamura. They also say they didn't barter with them much, because they "needed little".

SO THAT HAD ME THINKING. My au comic (which is hundreds of sketched panels and the full thing will never see the light of day unless I post it unfinished. Eugh) is about shamura going around chronicling everything they witnessed during the time they were alive, and they notice everyone is like...selfish. Trying to be the last god standing. Really obsessed with trinkets and charms, so some of the gods just go around harvesting relics from the other gods and using their powers to survive a little longer. Shamura has visions of the future of siblings they don't know they have yet, so they try to be friendly with the rest of the pantheon to form a family and it always bites them in the ass, so they have to kill them.

Eventually they end up with all these fuckin god tears and they're thinking "what do I even do with these? Nobody wants them and everyone has them", and BOOM. MYSTIC SELLER JUMPSCARE. They do the whole introduction where they say they have loot in exchange for god tears, shamura just drops off the tears and is like "I don't care about trinkets, bye" and the seller is like. What Thy Fuck. Because every other god is pretty adamant on getting something good in exchange for the tears. So they call them back and ask if there's ANYTHING at all they want. And shamura, being the self-proclaimed wisdom god, just asks the seller to talk about themself for a while, who's just like okkaaayyy?? Nobody else ever asked what it's like to be a bizarre circle headed angelic creature that collects magical bits and pieces, but shamura LOVES to learn, and the two bonded that way. Shamura would bring the mystic seller god tears, the seller would tell them a story, they'd write it down to put in their archives and the conversations eventually got more personal when the stories started to run out. They both realized they don't understand how other people work, but they knew how *each other* worked so they could kinda learn how to function as normal people with each other's observations.

When I say I ship them I mostly mean like a QPP situation because I think they'd be good partners in the most autistic asexual way possible, where they don't make out sloppy style or outright say "I love you", but they have an understanding of one another that doesn't apply to anyone else really. They don't have to rely on conventional relationship stuff to know the other one cares deeply for them in the most nonverbal, oddly specific way possible. I know shamura's the smart one but I really feel like that extends to everything except understanding how people work, hence all the stuff that happened with narinder and the rest of the family. So finding someone else outside the pantheon who is quite literally inhuman, otherworldly, genderless and uninterested in Carnal Desire would definitely make them feel the closest thing to romantic love that they can. Also, since mystic seller lets the gods name them, shamura named them "sunshine" after hearing one of their followers singing that "you are my sunshine" song to the person they loved the most. I always liked how shamura has their little moon crown and the mystic seller is depicted as the sun in some of the art? They go together well is what I'm saying and I'm kinda surprised nobody has done anything of them yet.

I WILL SAY I have angst planned for them once I do the introductory comics, it has to do with how narinder's imprisonment happened literally right in front of where mystic seller sets up shop, so canonically it's safe to assume they watched shamura get lobotomized in real time :')

But for now...I must go back to kallamar angst cause I've been putting off posting this part. It gets very mentally ill very quickly so I needed to balance it out with fluff......

[cheoridoll]

confessing —

pairing: robby keene x reader

warning: nothing, just something cute.

includes: robby confessing his love.

note: thinking of releasing a robby obscenity, perhaps?

words counted: 1.200

playlist for the fic: spotify | again, excuse the bad english! english isn't my first language :)

At the back of the dojo, Robby paced restlessly, his right hand stroking his chin in a visibly failed attempt to calm his nerves.

He was still wearing a kimono, with messy hair and bandages on his eyebrows. The black highlighted his muscles, which had been worked in the fight, while the yellow of the coat of arms highlighted his hair, which was as shiny as that of a certain princess when she sang.

"Damn, damn, damn" — he repeated to himself as he walked around. Across the mat.

Sam laughed at the whole situation, finding it adorable how his friend acted under the effects of love, even though she was in the same happy situation. She was clinging to Miguel, one of his current best friends, the same one who helped Robby choose the rings he would give to the girl he was going to declare his love to at the end of the day, since Diaz, having been raised only by his mother, had a certain notion of what girls liked.

The girl took classes at night, the only time allowed by the sensei, who said that they would be simple classes, below beginner level, because according to him, "the girls didn't have any aptitude". Pathetic.

The boys never denied having a certain hatred towards Kreese's idiotic and ill-thought-out speeches, always making a point of covering their ears, humming or even running to the bathroom when the oldest began his speeches.

"Relax, you idiot!" — Diaz threw one of the foam bricks in his direction, hitting Robby's already bruised face. "She already said she loved you."

"I know, I... Ah." — he turned his body and threw himself on the floor, looking at a random stain on the ceiling of the dojo. "She said she loved me and I ran away like a coward."

"You're afraid of women." — Sam said ironically, looking at Miguel.

The blond couldn't stop laughing, escaping a little from the nervousness that was consuming him internally, leaving aside the hands that seemed to crawl like slugs.

The clock rang. It was on time. The students began to enter the dojo, while Kreese rolled his eyes in boredom and contempt, leaving the place as fast as a sprinter, making way for the night teachers, Miguel and Robby.

"Okay girls, let's warm up first, walk in circles around the dojo, then run, alternating between slow and fast." — Diaz took the lead, seeing that his friend was busy drying the newbie still confused on how to put on her belt.

Adorable.

The whole class had been hectic, as the girls had blood in their eyes, and as recent professionals, they could say that not even the most experienced boys fought dirty like the girls. In a good way, perhaps.

"Hey!" — Robby ran, almost tripping over his own feet due to fatigue. "I need to, yeah..." — He cleared his throat, looking for the words he would use, the right words so that he wouldn't come out automatically and end up saying more than he should, more or less than he feels.

"Talking to you, seriously, I need to tell you something."

She laughed. Robby's world seemed to fall apart, not in a tragic way as it seemed. She laughed tenderly, gracefully like one of the beautiful flowers in the school garden, the ones Robby steals every morning, hoping to give them to his beloved, always giving up a second before. His world fell apart, fell apart when he realized that no words would be enough to show enough.

A tightness invaded his chest, leaving him desolate for a few seconds, to the point that the girl needed to call him, say his name several times, something that gave him a certain feeling of being in heaven next to an angel, due to such a melody.

"Sweet?" — There. That speech was the one that no longer allowed Robby to hold his tongue, no longer paying attention to automatic, he just spoke and spoke, as if tomorrow no longer existed.

"I love you. And, and it hurts me every single day, the way I ran away like a coward, the regret of not having pulled you by the arms and kissed every little detail that I love so much about you, which perhaps would have been impossible, since I don't just love your exterior, but also your interior, this wonderful woman that you are, your personality, your grace and tenderness, fuck, I don't even like swear words, what did I say? But, hell, you're the woman I want to be with."

The fighter remained silent, leaving the blond distressed, breathing irregularly and sweating visibly. He was as cold as an ice cube. Daniel, who was watching through the window of the small room, could have sworn that his friend was about to faint, Johnny and he were already preparing to run in case something really happened to the boy.

"I hate you, you know?" — Finally something came out of her mouth, surprising him, not in a positive way.

"Did I do it too late? That, I mean, declare myself?"

"Yes." — He sighed, throwing his body against the other's.

Robby was confused again, what was she doing? "But I love you, I love you so much that I can't say exactly what goes on in my chest and my head, they constantly fight with me."

They both laughed, still hugging each other, enjoying the short time they had together.

"You can do what you want."

"What did I want?" — She smiled, amused by the boy's short memory, taking the lead in the action that Robby had been waiting so long to do.

The fighter put her arms around the other's neck, carefully caressing the nape of her current love's neck. The caress soon went from a simple demonstration of what was about to happen, their lips collided, the movements became loose, both guided, a beautiful fit, there were no misunderstandings, or fight for command. As I said, a fit, the perfect fit.

"I love you, Robby."

"I love you too, my princess."

I'm very happy that you enjoyed my previous fanfic! That really makes me very motivated. Oh, and I place orders! :)

[taojjang]

riize when you're on your period ✮⋆˙

pairing: bf!riize x fem!reader, genre: fluff (tiny bit of crack idk), warnings: menstrual cycle, blood, medication

♡⸝⸝ how he'd spoil you rotten during that time of the month

shotaro . . .

◦ oh how sweet he'd be :(

◦ taro is always the sweetest to you, treating you like a princess every waking moment of your life.

◦ but when you're on your period, he does everything in his power to lift your spirits and make you feel better.

◦ he wouldn't shy away from buying your feminine hygiene products! a real man, we love to see it!

◦ he'd be at your house every day, calling you beforehand to ask if you need him to get something for you.

◦ even if you say no, he'll never arrive empty-handed. he'll bring your favorite ice cream and maybe even a new teddy bear!

★ - "i'm sorry you're having a tough time, honey... is there anything i can do for you?"

eunseok . . .

◦ not a single day goes by where eunseok isn't spoiling you, waiting for your every request

◦ nothing changes during this time of the month; your caring boyfriend still stopping at nothing to make your life as easy as it can be.

◦ the only difference is that he'd never leave your side for even a second.

◦ he'd be sat beside you stroking your hair, occasionally checking to see if you're in pain or need anything from him.

◦ in the morning he'd ask you what you feel like eating so he can plan out today's meals, always ensuring his baby is happy and well-fed </3

◦ once he notices even a small wince from you, he wastes no time, rushing to grab a hot pack and leaving soothing kisses on your forehead.

★ - "i know it hurts, darling, i'm sorry. i'll take care of it, i promise."

sungchan . . .

◦ your cuddle buddy!

◦ whenever it's that time of the month, really all he wants to do is scoop you up in his arms and hug all of the pain away :( ... which conveniently works!

◦ when you're experiencing cramps, sungchan is always beside you, gently rubbing your tummy. he holds you delicately in his arms as if you'd shatter with too rough of a touch.

◦ his large, warm hands work wonders for your minor cramps and he knows that, so he never stays far from you in case you need him.

◦ but when your cramps are intense, sungchan always feels so sad and helpless :( he frantically researches remedies while you curl up in his lap, crying against his chest.

◦ he wipes your tears and kisses their trails, trying his best to soothe you in any way possible.

★ - "i'm so sorry, princess... the medicine should be kicking in any second now. should we try to take a nap?"

wonbin . . .

◦ a clueless cutie (・・ ) ?

◦ he'd be helplessly sitting beside you, too scared to touch you in fears of hurting you even more.

◦ nevertheless, he'd still be layering you with blankets and googling how to help his suffering gf (he's a loser and you love him!)

◦ in the end, he asks you to tell him whatever it is that you need, but all you want is cuddles and snacks :( so ofc he delivers!

◦ he'd order a bunch of your favorite snacks and find a good movie to watch

◦ would put on a comedy but laughing hurts your stomach so you watch a sappy romance instead, aaaand now he's stuck wiping your tears while you ugly cry over some cliche movie...!

★ - "you're such a crybaby. come here, let me kiss you."

seunghan . . .

◦ the way he treats you when you're on your period alone is already grounds for marriage

◦ seunghan would cater to your every need— buying your hygiene products, running errands, completing house chores, shit maybe even doing homework for you

◦ he just can't see his baby in pain :(

◦ the second you're leaning over in pain, he's running over to hug you probably with tears in his eyes

◦ every little flinch and he's asking if you need to go to the hospital

◦ he's the most caring boy in the world and he'd do anything for you <3

★ - "i'm sorry it hurts so much, angel... but i'm so proud of you, you know that?"

sohee . . .

◦ sohee would wear a stoic and confident act, but the poor boy is just a confused, scared, anxious little dude...

◦ he would be less clingy than the other members but would still travel lengths to make you feel better.

◦ sohee would work on lifting your spirits! he'd love to pick up food from your favorite restaurant and eat with you :3

◦ he'd do anything to make you smile— often ordering frozen yogurt at 2am and watching naruto until sunrise

◦ he knows how excruciating your menstrual cycle is, so he does everything in his power to make you happy even if its just for a split second.

◦ he's just your little ball of sunshine <3

★ - "i know it hurts, pretty girl... how about i order froyo? would that take your mind off of it..?"

anton . . .

◦ GOD SAVE THIS POOR BOY

◦ he is just about as emotionally drained as you are...

◦ every time you'd whine in pain, he'd hold you close to him and cry with you, constantly whispering apologies and comforting words.

◦ he goes out to buy your hygiene products but probably ends up calling you to tell him which one to buy... poor boy is super shy but he reminds himself it's for your girlfriend!

◦ he probably asks you questions about your period so he can become more prepared and knowledgeable, but you're not in the mood to talk so you end up cuddling instead (◡﹏◡)

◦ you lie cuddled up against his chest as he strokes your hair with one hand and rests the other on your lower back, soaking in each others' presence.

★ - "you're so admirable, my love. you're doing so well."

[extravagantliar]

[ a letter embossed with the seal of Kirkwall lays out; it is not dated ]

Kid,

If you’re reading this, good news: we’ve likely done it. 

If you’re reading this, bad news: I’m likely dead. 

If you’re reading this and I’m not dead, I’m going to kick your ass and then send you back to where I found you. And likely go and pick you back up, impressed that you got this letter in the first place. 

The first and second are most likely it; the third is a foolish old man’s dream. 

You once asked why I do this, and I never gave you a straight shot. I told you once I was in the wrong place at the wrong time, once I told you they begged me to stay, and another I think I told you that I had ensnared every woman in the Inquisition. Only one is half true, and as it turns out I was in the wrong place at the right time. It’s how I live my life, if I am to be honest — which I rarely am. Kirkwall was that way, Haven, Skyhold, Kirkwall again, this will be too. I’m not a man on time, kid; I’m just a man in time. 

Shit, kid, I’m no good at goodbyes. 

Truly, I hope it isn’t. You picked my pocket the first time we met; I don’t think you knew who I was, which, to be fair to you — I was fresh into town and an easy mark. I knew I was, and you took the coin purse off my belt and made your way into the sawdust-infested bar of my dreams. 

Sure, I followed you there and spooked the shit out of you; I think you went too pale when my hood flipped down; sorry about that — but I love a good entrance. Maybe that’s why we get along so well, our dubious love of noxious drinks and people, along with a flourish of fanfare. I knew then, and there you were something special especially when you offered to pay for my drinks with my own stolen silver. 

I’m proud of you, kid. Take the worst, make it the best, and keep on going. 

Now, the hard part. 

If I am dead, there are a few things left to you. If I’m not, well, this letter found its way into your hands regardless, and these things are now yours: My shaving mirror, my lucky deck ( the Angel is painted by hand so you can always win ), thirty gold so you’ll shut up about what I owe you, and my boot knife. The last one was a gift from Isabela, if it ever dulls, she can show you how to sharpen it. She’ll call you a name as she does it, but that’s just who she is. 

Take care, kid.

You can always find me where the ale is plentiful, and the room is warm, spinning a story well worn with care. 

Your friend, always, VT

[yourfavoritewitchbitch]

Chapter 6 - Best Laid Plans

A Mafia!Steve Harrington AU (featuring Mafia!Eddie Munson)

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Masterlist

Summary: Nothing can stay secret forever when there are such high stakes. Bliss becomes a nightmare as things start to unravel and Nik isn't as clueless as he seems to be.

18+ Only! Minors DNI!

This chapter contains very heavy content but is crucial to the continuation of the story. Read at your own risk!

CW: Reader is referred to as "Dove" as well as other pet names. Tense situations. Violent threats. Physical and mental spousal abuse (reader is slapped, choked and kicked). Sexual Assault (not explicit but heavily implied).

WC: 5.7K

The days pass slowly, yet quickly in the presence of his company, giving way to weeks in the blink of an eye. You're so wrapped up in each other the outside world fades away each time, leaving you in this perfect bubble you've created for yourselves.

Steve and you manage to meet a few times a week. Making sure to be cautious, always during the evening, never staying too late and slipping back into the gallery without so much as a hair out of place to meet your driver back out front for the small trek home.

Loving him was to live again, though keeping him hidden away in the dark felt like a sin. Each time you were in his light your leaves unfurled a little more, trying to catch his golden rays to flourish and bloom, feeling once more like the woman you were all those years ago.

He was warm sunshine on your skin after Winter's long, bitter embrace. He was the embodiment of hope and everything good in the world. It felt like that part of you that had been missing had finally found its way back.

You were afraid that Nik would grow suspicious, but he hasn't said anything in the few weeks that passed, barely giving you the time of day, business as usual. You remained playing the part of dutiful wife in public settings if absolutely necessary, while behind closed doors you practically never saw him.

Steve wanted nothing more than to call you and tell you about his day. He longed for the mundane experiences. The things that most people take for granted but for now, he would keep you to himself until he could finally tell the entire world that you were his once more.

Playing pretend here in this apartment, in this little world of make believe and to share a bed with the man you loved, felt like pure bliss but it wasn't solely about sex. It had always been deeper with Steve, a connection beyond the physical. You'd known it since you were teenagers, though then you hadn't fully understood.

You took turns cooking for each other, while some nights it was takeout. Mind numbingly boring TV played in the background as you talked about your day while sipping wine. It was hand holding, stolen glances, and talking about the future. Everything you had been missing.

It was perfect. It was a refuge. It was home.

A moment of weakness or a mistake of passion, in between tipsy kisses and whispers of “I should head home” followed by “I know”. Wandering hands and moans of pleasure quickly pushed those more sensible thoughts away as the night slowly edged toward morning.

He slowly began to rouse, releasing a soft breath while reluctantly letting his eyelashes flutter open, only to be met with your still naked form cocooned in the sheets beside him.

The early spring sun had started to settle through the open curtains, casting its luminous rays across the bed. A patch of warm sunlight highlights your body so perfectly that for a brief moment he swears you’re an angel sent to Earth just for him.

He'd left the window open the night before. The sounds of the outside world began to trickle in with the soft breeze prickling his skin. The city was just beginning to come to life, the birds were chirping loudly, almost enough to drown out the engines and horns of the cars on the already busy street below.

Your hair lightly blows with that same breeze sending the intoxicating scent of your lilac and jasmine scented shampoo his way. The bed would smell like you until he inevitably has the sheets washed in the coming days.

You'd explained that Nik was away the entire weekend, business in New York, teasing him you should just stay in the apartment the entire time.

Drunk on wine and high on each other, you hadn't meant to fall asleep but the lure of tender touches and inviting warmth was too intoxicating to leave so soon.

It was stupid and reckless.

He laid there a few more moments basking in what he thought was still a dream before his waking mind caught up to the gravity of the situation.

“Shit,” he hissed, wiping the sleep from his eyes before his blurry vision focused enough to see the time on his watch.

You groaned softly, waking up from his sudden movements when he untangled his legs from yours.

“Dove. Baby, wake up.” He called urgently, but no louder than a whisper, trying not to alarm you too much.

You hum and try to bury your face further into the pillow as he runs his knuckles lightly across your cheek.

“Dove,” he whispers once more, pressing his face into your neck, while warm lips place soft kisses along your jaw.

Another low hum escapes you as he whispers against your skin.

“You fell asleep, tesoro. We both did.”

The moment those words register, your eyes fly open, as you jolt up.

“Shit! What time is it?” Hissing out, as you quickly move off the bed, bending down to pick up your discarded clothes from the floor with a foggy mind.

“Almost 6:30.” He replies, pulling his shirt over his head, crossing the room.

You pull your underwear on, grabbing your phone, fingers working fast to open your notifications. There were numerous missed calls and texts from your driver. No doubt he'd already alerted Nik that you hadn't gone home.

“Fuck! Have you seen my bra?” You ask, eyes searching your side of the bed.

“Over here.” He holds it up and tosses it your way when you turn back around.

He notices the frantic nature of your movements as you rush to finish getting dressed.

“Hey, Dove. Baby.” He says, trying to gain your attention but you don't even bat an eyelash, already too caught up in your own mind.

He finally knocks you from the spiral when he comes to stand in front of you, wrapping his hand around the nape of your neck as your gaze drifts up to those warm, honey hued irises, pulling you back from the brink.

“Hey, it's okay, tesoro.” He says, calm and reassuring as you search his face, wrapping your hand around his wrist, anchoring him to you. He brings his lips to your forehead, pulling you further into his chest. “Take a deep breath.”

And you do. Slowly expanding your lungs, breathing him in, holding it a moment before releasing.

“That's it.” He reassures you with a kiss to your temple. “Finish getting dressed. Call your driver on the way to the office. You fell asleep there. Got it? Right at your desk.”

He pulls back, cradling your face between his hands as you nod.

“Good.” Responding with another kiss to your forehead, lips warm and grounding.

Though he was calm on the outside, his own worry was there. You'd both fucked up. He knew it and was hesitant to let you leave but eventually gave in. It was too early to make a play.

He watches you from the window as you get into the car, silently praying this isn't going to derail everything he'd worked so hard for.

Your heart was beating wildly against your ribcage as the car approached home, wringing your hands nervously as you sat silently in the backseat. You could feel the eyes of your driver every few minutes through the rearview mirror, but you ignore his glances.

As the large house came into view, it seemed to loom over you as if your demise was imminent. You tried to dismiss those thoughts. Now was the time to maintain a level head and not let your emotions get in the way.

Play it cool. Play it cool. Play it cool. You repeat over and over in your head.

The driver opened the door with a “Mrs,” knocking you from your daze. You said nothing exiting the vehicle, as sure and steady steps lead you to the front door.

Silence as you stepped into the foyer, holding your breath for a beat as your heels clicked across the marble flooring, not bothering to look for him as your legs carried you to the stairs. One at a time, they lead you to the second-floor landing and then to the safety of your room.

It was only then you finally let out a heavy sigh, shoulders sagging, as you leaned against the closed door, locking it.

Nik hadn't rushed home, quelling most of your fears but not extinguishing them. He hadn’t called or bothered to check in, which wasn’t unusual, but your guard was still up.

You'd been too careless. Foolish.

Maintaining the facade that nothing was amiss, you lazed about the rest of the weekend, barely leaving your room unless it was for the occasional meal or walking around the grounds for some fresh air.

He had stayed on his “business” trip, until Monday morning rolled around.

It was raining as you sat in the breakfast nook, distracted by the steady stream of raindrops pelting the window surrounded by the peaceful silence sipping your coffee.

His heavy footsteps quickly approaching caught your attention, as your posture stiffened.

Just breathe. You could hear Steve's voice, as you closed your eyes for a brief moment.

“Kitten.” His deep voice cut through, smirking at you when you turned to look up at him.

“Nik.” You grumbled, taking a quick sip and looking back out the window.

He poured his coffee, crossed the room and took the seat across from you.

His eyes were practically burning into you, the way his gaze never wavered as you steeled your features, never giving him a hint of the turmoil churning inside of you. It's as if he was waiting for you to confess, drop to the floor and beg for forgiveness.

“My, my. What did you get into this weekend?” He asked, chuckling. A deep throaty sound that sets your already frazzled nerves ablaze.

“Don't start.” You sighed, bringing your mug back down to the table as you finally held his eye contact. Icy blue shards of indifference peered back at you.

He suddenly reached across the table and gripped your chin forcefully, making a small mewling sound escape your throat. He kept moving forward until his nose grazed yours.

“Oh, Kitten. You know very well who started this.” He spoke, shoving your face away, as you winced. “And you won't soon forget this is all on you.”

You shot up from your seat, backing away from him as quickly as possible. His mocking laughter followed you down the hall as you rushed back to your room.

His threats were no longer idle. You could feel the walls closing in around you, trying not to panic as a familiar sting was felt behind your eyes. He wouldn't do anything, not yet. That thought alone gives you a small amount of hope. If he wanted you dead, he would have already done it.

There was still time.

You arrived at work earlier than usual, feeling a sense of impending doom as you walked through the doors of your office and immediately retrieved your burner.

Steve had thought it best for no contact until you went back to work. Now, more than ever, it felt as if you were being watched.

No missed calls. No new notifications. You only hoped it was a good sign.

“Mrs. Petrov?” The voice of Abigail startled you enough that you nearly dropped the phone, as you clutched your chest.

“I'm sorry, I didn't mean to startle you.” She began, walking further into the office as you shoved the phone into the nearest desk drawer.

“That's quite alright.” You replied, straightening up and smoothing the nonexistent wrinkles from your shirt. “Today's agenda?”

“Right here.” She extends the paper toward you, glancing over it and immediately dismissing her.

Your attention went back to Steve as soon as the door shut, grabbing the burner and quickly dialing his number.

He picked up on the second ring.

“Are you okay?” He asks, with a hint of relief in his voice.

“I— I'm ok.” There was a slight hitch to your breath that didn’t go unnoticed.

“Tesoro, did he do anything to you?” He asks, his voice coming out a bit more strained.

“No.” You lie. “I just— I have to see you. Tonight.”

“Dove, that's not—”

“I know it's not a good idea, but I need you!” You all but wail out, cutting him off.

He sighs but doesn't say anything as your meek voice comes through again.

“Please.”

He pinches the bridge of his nose. How could he deny you? His tesoro. His heart. His everything.

“Okay, okay Tesoro. Be ready at 6 pm. And Dove?” He pauses. “I love you.”

“I love you, too.”

The line went dead as you sat back in your plush, leather chair with a forlorn sigh, wiping away the evidence you'd been crying and reapplying some fresh mascara. Everything was fine. Work as normal. Not a hair out of place.

Internally you were a frazzled mess, counting down every second until then.

Somehow you managed to keep your mind preoccupied for most of the day. As the time edged a little past 5:30, your phone lit up with a new message. You smiled. It was no doubt Steve telling you he had made it to the apartment, as he normally would.

Your heart suddenly sank as you read and reread the message in bold print.

921-987-5555 5:32 PM: DO NOT LEAVE THE OFFICE! THE APARTMENT HAS BEEN COMPROMISED.

Four weeks of pure bliss. Four weeks of living in your little fantasy world. Four weeks of feeling like everything would work out and one single text brought this false sense of security crashing down.

You slowly sank back into your chair on trembling legs.

It could only be Nik.

You quickly called Steve.

“Dove, do not leave. I'm coming to get you.” He breathes out heavily.

“No, you can’t— I can't go with you.” You bite back the sob threatening to spill out. At least for his sake, you could pretend you weren't scared.

“You can and will. I'll be there in five.” He insists.

“Steve, he won't stop. It's better if I go home and act like I don't know anything.” Was it though?

“What?! No, that's bullshit! You're coming home with me.” He rushes out.

“Steve, baby please. Just listen to me. He's going to dinner with my father tonight. We have to act like everything is normal. I trust you. You have to trust me.” You urged, though you didn't believe it yourself.

“Dove.” He closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “I trust you.”

You ended the call with more “I love yous” and telling him that everything would be okay. Nik wouldn't possibly be so stupid to do anything to you tonight. Steve finally resigned himself, as his own plan began to form in his mind. He still had the upper hand.

Once he hung up with you, he made another call. He was no longer willing to be separated from you, risking your life was not in the cards for him.

It was time.

You crept through the foyer, hoping the small sound of the door closing wouldn’t rouse anyone in the large house.

Removing your heels from your stocking clad feet, so that you could silently move through the room and quickly check your surroundings, pausing, listening. You were met with nothing but the sound of your heartbeat reverberating in your chest.

You thought you were in the clear, but your false sense of security was quickly shattered, rounding the corner only to be met with your Nik’s steely glare. A cigarette and stiff drink in hand. He was home early. Much too early. It immediately set you on high alert.

He was sitting in front of the large fireplace in the study. When you caught his gaze, he bid you to come forward as he set the drink down. Brining the cigarette to his lips, taking a long inhale before resting it alongside his drink.

Dressed in his usual suit, his jacket left on the chair behind him, leaving him in a white button up with the sleeves rolled up on his forearms revealing an expanse of black ink beneath.

You shuffled forward slowly, crossing your arms behind your back with your heels still dangling from your fingertips.

“Tough day, my love?” he cooed, in a sickly-sweet voice that would almost sound sincere to anyone else. His lips turned up into a cruel smirk as he turned to look at you.

“You know exactly how my day has been.” You hissed, already over his little games.

“Now kitten, a little birdie told me you were seen with him. Though, it doesn't come as a surprise.” A calm tone, in contrast to his wild eyes. He knows. He goddamn knows.

“Nik,” you started, as his palm met your cheek with a sharp smack that echoed in the otherwise quiet space, along with the thud of your heels that fell from your grasp. Your eye instantly welled, unable to control the tears forming from the force of his blow. Pain instantly searing the skin.

You could taste the familiar metallic tang in your mouth, as you reached up trying to soothe the discomfort.

Ever defiant, you raise your head slowly, to meet his cold, indifferent gaze.

He gripped your chin, forcing your face closer to his.

“Now, kitten,” no feeling whatsoever behind those words.

“This kind of behavior just won’t do for my reputation. I can't let you go whoring around with him out in public, making me look like a fool in the process.” He couldn't have seen. You were too careful… unless…

He removed his hand slightly, only to cup your cheek engulfing it with his large palm. It was tender, a stark contrast to the pain he had just inflicted. Raised welts began to form under his touch.

He pushed your face a little harshly, putting some distance between you to take his leave.

“Clean yourself up and get ready for dinner. Your father will be joining us.” He leaned down, pressing his lips to yours, catching the back of your head pressing you closer to his larger frame. You made no attempt to push him away, knowing it would only spur his anger.

He released you, grabbing his jacket and turning back one last time before he spoke.

“And kitten, end it. Or I will.”

He left you standing there wilted and bruised, standing in the warm glow of the lit fireplace contemplating your next move, releasing a shuddering breath. If there was a fate worse than death, this was surely it.

Your hand was pressed to your cheek as you turned, slowly trudging up the stairs with your head held high. He was trying to break you.

Nik was a goddamn idiot. It was painfully obvious he'd hit you. There was only so much you could do to hide the welts. You iced it, hoping it would alleviate some of the pain and swelling enough that your father wouldn't take notice.

It worked mildly. Makeup covered the rest. A red lip to also hide the small laceration he had caused.

You changed into a more modest dress with flats. Something sweet. You were in no mood to play the part of a doting wife, but you would behave in front of your father lest there be consequences for you both. Nik was capable of anything.

Voices drifted from the foyer as you came from your room, alerting you that your guest had already arrived.

Turning the corner, your hand gripped the railing to the stairs so hard your knuckles turned white, suddenly feeling like your heart had stopped.

Oh God no! Anything but this.

It took your brain a moment to truly register what your eyes were seeing. Steve was standing by your father, shaking hands with Nik as you stared on with a look of abject horror. As your mind caught up, you began to descend the stairs holding your breath.

Your father followed Nik into the study without so much as a glance your way, but Steve turned, briefly catching your gaze, nodding slightly before disappearing along with them.

“Fuck,” you hissed under your breath, heading straight into the dining room, promptly pouring yourself a glass of bourbon with shaky hands. You tipped it back, downing it with one large gulp, slamming the glass down against the bar top with a resounding thud. The amber liquid burned, settling in the pit of your stomach doing little to settle your nerves, your mind completely starting to spiral with a thousand different scenarios.

Your father and Nik were supposed to go out. Why was Steve here?!

“Miss?” The voice from one of the kitchen staff drifting from the doorway jars you back to the present and the reality of the situation. “Will we be having another guest for dinner this evening?”

“Um…” You didn't trust your own voice, clearing your throat before replying. “Yes, I think so.”

The young lady nods and heads back into the kitchen, returning quickly with another place setting as you take your usual seat at the table, to the right of Nik. You felt numb, as if your body was on autopilot, staring blankly at the plate in front of you as their voices crossed the threshold.

It was all business as they entered the room, one after the other. Nik, followed by your father and then Steve.

You didn't dare meet his gaze, too afraid of what it might hold but he immediately clocked your unusual demeanor taking a seat beside your father. You were withdrawn, scared, nothing like the woman he knows and loves.

“Hey Kiddo. I've missed you for our Sunday lunches.” Your father spoke up. It had been weeks since you'd properly seen him. The bags under his eyes doing nothing to hide the exhaustion evident in his features.

“I know, daddy.” You reply, with a slight lilt to your voice. “We'll do them again soon.. I've been… busy.”

He smiles over at you with a nod, not pressing any further as the wine was poured for the table.

No one spoke as the salads were served. The tension hangs thick in the air, Nik's eyes darting between you and Steve as you lift your fork to begin your meal.

“So, Steve,” Nik's voice laced with venom, as if saying his name out loud physically pained him. “I heard you were going back to Italy. Leaving Chicago to the big boys.” He smirks.

“Ahh, little Niki, do you believe every rumor you hear?” He replies with a nonchalance, taking a sip of wine to cleanse his palette.

Nik’s jaw visibly clenched. Steve knew exactly how to get under his skin, using his old nickname.

The small talk was left to a minimum, a few mumbles from your father about the Cubs as he tried to steer the conversation to more lighthearted topics as the entrees were finally served.

Braised lamb with a red wine sauce served over a medley of stewed veggies.

The meat was tender but as you chewed, Steve noticed you slightly wince, pausing as your eyelashes fluttered closed a brief moment before continuing.

He regarded you closely, taking in your appearance. His eyes widened a little when he finally noticed your flushed appearance and the makeup trying to cover your cheek, a bruise beginning to form just below your red rimmed eye. It was his turn for his jaw to tighten, his fist clenching beneath the table.

Nik followed Steve's gaze, the flicker of irritation passing his face made him smirk to himself as the silence stretched on. The only sounds were forks and knives lightly clanking against the fine china echoing around the room.

Nik’s hand stretched under the table, suddenly wrapping around your thigh with a bruising grip that caused you to slightly jolt upright. It suddenly takes all the willpower that Steve can muster to not jump over the table and end him.

“Kitten?” He suddenly speaks up, in an overly affectionate voice, as you look over to him. “Go on to bed. I'll be up in a little bit. The men are going to talk now."

“But—,”

“Shh, shh, shh. No buts.” He coos, gripping your leg even tighter leaving no room for arguments.

You nod, scooting your chair back from the table, and standing to take your leave, glancing back at Steve, whose face is now set with a heavy frown. His eyes held immense fiery rage as he stared at Nik.

The tension was now at a boiling point, at least from one end of the table.

Nik grabs your wrist before you get too far, pulling you his way suddenly, gripping the back of your neck with his free hand and pressing his lips to yours. The sudden movement caught you off guard, as your lips parted with a gasp, he took the opportunity to push his tongue forward, an unwanted intrusion but you were powerless to fight his advances.

The few moments seemed to stretch on for eternity as he finally pulled back with a sickly-sweet grin, licking his lips and releasing his hold on you. You straighten up to bid your father and Steve both a farewell.

“Goodnight Daddy. Steve.”

Both men rose from their chairs.

“Night kiddo.” Your father kisses your cheek, pulling you into a small embrace.

Steve swallows around the lump in his throat as you take a step toward him, desperation written all over your features as you gaze up at him with an almost pleading look. Don't. You tried to convey.

"Night, Dove." He whispers, still searching your eyes, as your husband stares daggers at him. He leans in, pressing a soft, lingering kiss to your cheek as a silent tear escapes you going unnoticed by the other two men in the room as you finally brush past Steve.

He sits back down, his eyes trailing after you long after you disappear up the stairs. Regardless if you and Steve had been having an affair, the way you looked at each other was all the confirmation that Nik needed. He sighs heavily, loosening his tie.

“So, this is how it's going to be. My own father-in-law is conspiring against me.” He paused, eyes cutting over to Steve.

“And you Harrington, how long have you been fucking my wife?” He sneered.

Both men were a little stunned, heads snapping in his direction. Their best laid plans falling apart before their eyes, with the other seemingly knowing enough.

“Nik,” David started but he quickly cut him off.

“That whore is still my wife. Still MY fucking property.” Raising his voice as his fists come down against the table.

“Don't fucking call her that.” Steve hissed, eyes turning dark, trained on Nik. His calm demeanor hides the maelstrom of emotions churning within him.

“Oh Steven, don't pretend if you were in my shoes, you wouldn't feel the exact same way.” He cruelly grins but turns his attention back to your father.

“And David, I think it's time you shut your mouth and do some listening for a change so before any threats start flying around, let me make it abundantly clear. She's not going anywhere, with either of you.” A sickly, sweet smile grew across his face. He knew he had the upper hand.

Steve quickly rose, but David stopped him before he came over the table at Nik, pressing a hand to his chest.

“I swear to God, if you lay a finger on her, I'll fucking kill you.” He spits, gritting his teeth and pointing his finger at the other man. Pure rage was all he saw.

Nik rolls his eyes, as if unamused by the entire situation, making himself more comfortable in his chair.

“I don't think either of you gentlemen are in the position to make any demands at this point.” He finally rose, nodding to his security in the corners of the room. “Now if you'll kindly see yourselves out, I need to have a chat with my lovely wife.”

Steve made an attempt to lunge at Nik, who only laughed when two of the men grabbed either of his arms, halting his movements. Two more men stepped in, escorting your father out along with him.

“I'll fucking kill you! Do you hear me? I will end you!” He yells before being forcefully dragged from the house, his eyes focused up the stairs, where you had retired moments ago, before they slammed the door in his face.

His stomach sank at the thought of leaving you alone with him. His head was screaming at him to get you out of that house.

Unintentionally, this had caused you to be stuck in the middle when he was trying to spare you from all of this. He should have told you the truth. Gotten you away from all of it when he had the chance. This was HIS fault.

Both men stood there in utter shock. Everything was falling apart.

“You know what he's capable of. We can't leave her here.” Steve turned to your father, a sudden desperation to his voice.

“Steve, he's not going to do anything to her. He knows what would happen if he did.” The other man reasons.

“Did you not see the goddamn bruises and welts on her face?” Steve steps forward, his frustration evident, inching into your father's space.

“What bruises?” He asks, brows furrowed.

“She did a good job at covering them, but the way she winced while eating gave it away. Her cheek was slightly swollen. He's already laid his goddamn hands on her, David!”

Your father gaped in silence at the implications as he stared at the younger man.

“Goddamnit!” Steve shouts out into the night, with other option but to leave without you. Nik had entirely too much security on duty to try anything else. He prayed to whomever would listen to keep you safe until he could get you back.

-

You heard the commotion, Steve audibly yelling, as you jumped from the small sofa and ran to the top of the stairs just in time to see the front door being slammed in his face. Your heart sank.

Nik came into view, rounding the corner, tie shed, unbuttoning his sleeves and rolling it up his forearms. You locked eyes as a smirk lit up his face. He enjoyed seeing the sheer terror written on yours.

You turned, your feet carrying you into the bedroom far too slowly as he took the stairs two at a time, slamming your door shut, trying to lock it before he reached it, your fingers fumbling with the knob.

He smashed into it with all the force he had, forcing it open and knocking you down in the process.

Your head flew back, hitting the floor, dazing you for a moment but it was enough for him to rush forward, grabbing the back of your hair forcing you to look at him. His fingers tangled in your locks, making you hiss out at the sudden sting as your eyes met his.

Pure rage. Animalistic, predatory dominance staring back at you. No emotion. No hint of regret to be found. Any semblance of a human being was nowhere to be found.

“So this is how you repay me? After all these years? Scheming and whoring around behind my back?!” He screamed like a madman. “You and your fucking father!”

“Nik—please.” Your eyes well up with tears from the searing pain at the back of your head, hands clawing, trying to pry him away.

“Please?!” He yelled, laughing out. “That's all you have to say for yourself?”

You watched on, unable to do anything as he reared back and smacked you across the face. Searing white hot heat, on an already bruised cheek, has you crying out.

Helpless. Hopeless. No one was coming to your rescue.

Gathering as much strength as you could, you slammed your foot up into his crotch. He let go of you as he doubled over in pain, granting you a small reprieve as you started to crawl away.

“You fucking bitch!” He screamed, grabbing your ankle. Your fingertips dug into the carpet, as he dragged you back toward him, flipping you over as you fought but he easily overpowered you, sitting on your abdomen. His weight pressed you into the carpet and his hands wound around your neck, quickly shutting your air supply off.

He was crazed, eyes black with murderous intent, squeezing a little tighter as you continued to fight to pull his hands away. This was it. You were going to die here. He was going to kill you.

“I would love nothing more to see the light go dim in those pretty, pleading little eyes, taking delight to see your precious Steve become a broken man, but unfortunately I have other plans for the two of you.” He spat.

His grasp relented, air once again filling your lungs with a gasp as he moved off of you. You rolled away, clutching your neck, chest heaving trying to take in as much oxygen as possible laying on your side away from him.

He stood, chuckling to himself. You didn't see him coming toward you until it was too late. Intense pain shot through your back. He was a fucking coward, kicking you while you were already down.

Your ears were ringing, too stunned and shocked to keep fighting. A scream tried to erupt from your chest, but there was no sound that escaped your raw and bruised throat as a steady stream of tears fell from your eyes, your mind suddenly on the brink of unconsciousness.

He was saying something you couldn't make out, sounding as though he was so far away when you felt like you were floating, no longer in your body. You didn't feel him haul you over to the bed, tearing your clothes away from you. Your conscious mind was disassociating and shielding you from the abrupt and painful intrusion between your thighs.

You close your eyes, as he takes what he wants from you, leaving his filthy seed behind. Your body was bruised and battered, a broken, withered husk.

Hope was shattered.

Taglist: @teen--marvel @micheledawn1975 @thecreelhouse @girlwiththerubyslippers @bunnyhargrove @taccobelle @madaboutjoe @hazydespair

[codename-adler]

Jerejeanaaron❣️ 1/?

@minyard-05 @you-know-i-get-itt

the canon-compliant ~ish way

if we're looking at them from this angle, for me it still follows the Jeanaaron og original origins where Jean is Aaron's first patient in PSU under Abby's coaching, and when Jean goes to USC they both realize they cannot let go;

so, that. however, enter Jeremy Knox. just when you think you've hit rock bottom you want to fuck a blond guy but it's just when you think you've hit rick bottom and want to fuck a blond guy you want to fuck another blond guy

feel me?

all of that kind of creates a real triangle of miscommunication, however strongly i loathe that trope

because Jean? Jean has clearly bonded with Aaron and cannot ever risk that bond to break—a boy, a man his age, taking care of him, because that’s what he wants to do in life, help people, heal people, and Jean is his first, and it is still the best care he has received in his entire life—and not just his body, his head too, he doesn’t let Jean fall, doesn’t leave him to the dark, doesn’t let him fall back into the black nest inside, and fights for him, even when he has to fight him to do that—so no matter how much Jeremy begins to fill his mind too, part of Jean longs for someone else, belongs with someone else—two different worlds that seem impossible to mesh without a terrible crash, Jean caught right in the middle, having two choices for the first time since ever, yet it’s not a choice at all, it’s an impasse, and impossibility—it seems he'll never be able to survive with what he’s given no matter what;

because Jeremy? Jeremy cannot for the life of him stay away from Jean, no matter how hard he tries, like, it's Jean, but he also knows about Aaron, knows that's where the limit's at, and he'd rather drown his feelings than risk Jean losing Aaron and risk losing Jean entirely—but then, oh then, emergency visit from Aaron for Jean, and wow, that is a man who could hold the world on his shoulders, Jeremy’s never seen anyone so fierce in his life, yet Aaron also remains level-headed and unflinching and he listens—that is a man who crossed an entire country for Jean, because Jeremy asked, and Jeremy's done for, even worse than before—the lovers of my love are my lovers too or smth like that;

and because Aaron? Aaron is stretched thin across too many states, his mind in California 24/7 even though he's never been, his patient, his first, too far from his care, too far for him to do anything about a wound if something happens, this person that was only supposed to be a test for the future, this person meant to be practice only—he cannot forget, cannot separate from, his to protect, his to keep alive, he is tied and he does not know how to make it stop—this man has been taken away from him and he is in a mad state of unrest—and what does he witness when Jean calls him to his side? not a captain, not Kevin's idol, not sunshine incarnate—it's an angel, a man with a heart of gold who took care of Jean in his absence, made sure to continue the work, made sure to see his healing through—for the first time in his life, what Aaron has poured out of himself has not been undone and destroyed—Jeremy took it all in and gave some more too, all for Jean—he thanks Aaron—he trusts Aaron, intrinsically—and Aaron does not have to fight anything or anyone, does not have to beg for respect, for recognition, for scraps—that's when Aaron gets it—weathers the force of all these good feelings that leave a hole in their wake, how could Aaron resists, how could Jean, how could Aaron ever compare to Jeremy for Jean, compare to Jean for Jeremy—his hand has played its part and now he must go, try to bring a crumb of afterglow back home, and feed on it for the rest of his life;

wow that was a whole fucking lot

so then how about a birthday party? after all, November 4th and 9th are so close…

maybe Neil schemes for that one (he’s only thinking of Andrew and Jean, Aaron can choke on the birthday candles)

but Aaron passes the invite along to Jean, as he is the Fox he’s most likely to say yes to (and Renee but Renee knows what’s up😏)(def not Kevin, and from Neil it’s too weird)

and in a moment of genius, or weakness, or flagellation, Aaron tells Jean to bring Jeremy too if he wants

dun dun dun

everyone is dumbfounded to see Jeremy glued to Aaron’s side almost all night long

(Kevin is offended)

Jeremy and Aaron watch Jean a lot as he mingles, together, they’re very cozy on the couch, and they make each other laugh so much?

Kevin and Andrew (and Renee) are the only ones who catch on to what’s transpiring between the 3 of them

when everybody’s left, Andrew and Neil retreat, Kevin’s supposed to sleep in Nicky’s bed for the night (he gets used like a pregnancy pillow by Octopus-man Nicky) and Jeremy and Jean are supposed to sleep in the living room downstairs, on an air mattress

but Aaron never actually leaves

he falls asleep on the couch, and now it’s Jean and Jeremy watching him

i actually don’t know how to end this and stop rambling sooo

stay tuned for part 2?

[valkirycr]

The look of panic on Carol's face, coupled with a slew of profanities as she scrambles to make herself look decent causes both confusion and a questioning glance from the ambassador, her eyebrow arching ever so slightly as she watches her nearly trip over their shoes. There is nothing that Val can immediately think of that would warrant such a reaction, but then the door opens and a child's voice fills the room. "Shit," escapes her lips too, more of a hiss than anything else as she pulls the costume back on her arms and thankful that they have not gotten to the point where she's stepped out of it completely.

One step forward, curious, as she peeks through the door leading to the entryway; and sees a gorgeous woman and an adorable little girl that throws her arms around the shoulders she's just had her mouth on; the memory like heat pricking the base of her neck. Then the Mom comes, and Val might just be as good as blending into the wall; trying to ignore the unpleasant tug in her gut.

So, Carol has a daughter— and while it seems fitting now that she sees them interact, a part of her is jealous of not having known this before. The blonde owes her nothing, after all, and for all Val knew this was just a one-off thing... but the sting of the realization coming sooner than she was comfortable with hurt nonetheless.

The other mom looks up before Val can slip back into the kitchen and they nod at each other politely; and the brunette wishes she was dressed in anything else but the dumb costume right now. And before the things could get better; they seemingly get worse, because Carol is leaving the little girl alone in the hallway; with Val on the other end of it.

Hi, the girl calls brightly, probably still happy about the praises she's just gotten about her costume and a sizeable bag of candy she's holding, so Val has no other choice but to engage. "Hi." She responds with a soft smile on her face. "I'm Val. What's your name?"

At first, she expects the girl to be wary of her, perhaps even hostile (her nieces being exactly like that towards people they didn't know), but the girl is an angel, as she tells her her name — Monica — and seems happy when Val tells her that she loves her name and her costume.

A Norwegian diplomat, Carol? comes from the outside and Val needs to take a little breath to keep the friendly face for Monica while her heart hammers in her chest. Then,

"They do that all the time. They think I don't hear, but I always do. Do you have any Reese's chocolate?" The girl continues on talking about how they are her favorite, while Val tries to control her own whiplash and take all of this information that has fallen into her lap as suddenly as her plane did; in the midst of this family's drama. Still, the girl is at no fault of her parents, so Val promises that she'd look for the Reese's with her until her moms come back in.

Monica already knows where to look, and keeps talking about her night of trick-or-treating like she's known Val for ages, and asks about her costume (You're like one of the ladies from the Viking books Mama Carol reads to me!) and Val likes how well spoken she is for someone so young; and can certainly see the parts of Carol in her, too. It makes her heart ache as they get to the living room; which she didn't even have the chance to see before... all this.

That's how Carol finds them, sitting on the floor in front of the TV, with Goose in her lap as Monica gives her different chocolates to try (What do you mean you never tried Hershey's cookies and creme?), and when Val notices her presence she looks up, a smile, albeit a little sad lights up her face.

"Hi. You okay?"

”Ah, yes,” Carol acknowledged, her grin growing against warm lips that felt like everything she’d ever wanted in life. “How very diplomatic of you.” She couldn’t help but wonder, in that moment when her skin was searing with the others touch and a flush was coating her cheeks at just how much she needed Val to touch her, what the other could do if she wasn’t so worried about being courteous and the blonde knew she wanted more time with the woman than she’d ever have on one singular night.

She wanted to insist how far past changing her mind she was, even from the moment they’d met each other’s gaze in the hanger bay, but being pulled against the other, without a single question for permission this time, caught her words in her throat and only the crackle of what remained of them slipped from her lips, amused and entirely approving at the new sense of friction the position gave her. The feeling of teeth gripping the skin above her bra, a pinch that rippled a sense of pleasure across every muscle in her body, caused her hips to press impossibly closer to Val’s thigh as her fingernails pressed sharply into the flesh on the back of the woman’s neck. The action caused a breathless chuckle to fall from her lips and she wasn’t sure if it was a reaction of pleasure or the disbelief at how insane that day had gone. It surely couldn’t get any crazier, right?

And then there was a knock on the door. Firm and insistent and clearly not the first knock that was attempted. A groan left her lips as the other pulled back and even the kiss against her cheek couldn’t make up for the increase in space between them. Her mind raced to catch up and it took her a second to process what Val said. “Wait — what time is it?” Her brow lifted, eyes sided just slightly as she glanced around the kitchen for some kind of clock and her eyes landed on the digital display of her microwave. Too late for trick or treaters meant trick or treating was over and that realization triggered the memory of a promise she’d made just a few days earlier. “Shit.”

Monica. Sweet little Monica, excited to show off her costume, to talk excitedly about the candy she managed to swindle the old ladies out of with her dimples… and Maria.

Carol stepped away and frantically started buttoning up the shirt she was still wearing. “Shit, shit, shit.” Her eyes searched for the grey cardigan on the floor but gave up after not being able to immediately find it and worried about the growing bruise on her chest and making sure the buttoned shirt covered it. There was no salvaging anything else, she knew that much as she ran her hand through her mussed hair and glance back at Val apologetically, and a little regretfully, before moving out of the kitchen and into her entry way to open the door, only managing to trip on discarded shoes once on her way.

Monica’s excited voice floated into the house immediately upon opening the door, giving Carol a good opportunity to ignore the look she knew she was getting from Maria. She wasn’t going to be able to avoid the inevitable scolding forever, but she let the little girl run into her arms and squeezed her tightly around the astronaut suit she donned. “Lieutenant Trouble!” She greeted softly, a tone only reserved for the girl in her arms. The return greeting of ‘Mom!’ was unavoidable and the back of her neck bristled at the feeling of Val’s gaze she knew was inevitably on her. “You look fantastic… did grandma make this for you?” Carol questioned, holding Monica at arm’s length as she got a good look at the costume she knew that Maria’s mom created just for the little girl and while Monica rambled on about it, she dared a glance at Maria only to be met with the look she knew was there all along.

“Hey kiddo, why don’t you wait right inside for a moment while we talk, okay?” She stepped aside to guide Monica just inside the door, telling her to stay there while she stepped outside and shut the door behind her.

Maria had some choice words for her as soon as the door was shut, most muffled by the barrier between the outside and inside of the house, Carol trying her best to give a good excuse as to why she had completely forgotten about the fact that they were supposed to be stopping by that night, but completely failing at it and her explanation only provoked the other woman’s voice to raise as she questioned, ‘A Norwegian diplomat, Carol!?’

[cannibal-nightmares]

this song gives me such an ego trip

[alxastrx]

When you're one of the most selfish mc who only saves people because it's part of a job you never wanted and did not get to chose or you would've died, who took your co-workers' morals and ideals because you didn't have any and desperately wanted to fit in somewhere, be it with the heroes or the villains, who's activelly haunted by one the most tragic past to have been created and suffer from a psychosis so bad (dare I say schizophrenia) that even your enemies acknowledged that you are mentally ill and objectively flawed in your judgement, never hesitated to try to kill anyone and has the most egoistic reason to be a good person but the fandom still thinks you're just a kind crybaby "I don't know what a gun is" homosexual twink.

[polarisbibliotheque]

Devil May Halloween - The Samhain Ritual - Vergil's Path

Devil May Halloween 2023 - The Samhain Ritual, Vergil's Path

Pairing: Vergil x Reader

Summary: It’s finally Halloween and, even if the demons are a lot more active this time of the year, that doesn’t stop you from going on hunts - the partying can be done later. Or… At least that was what you thought. Maybe Nero had pretty good reasons to worry about that job after all.

Author's Notes: Fucking finally part 2 hahahaha I deeply apologize for taking so long to post Vergil's part. As some of you might have seen here, my dad suffered an accident and my life turned upside down the last few months - I'm still managing, doing damage control hahaha but slowly getting back on track with my writing.

But here is Vergil's part! Be sure to read the Prologue first to understand this madness and, if you're a Dante appreciator, fret not, the red devil part is here.

I have to thank my dear friend @furyeclipse for sending me this idea as an ask a thousand years ago - and now, it is finally done! You can check Fury's work on ao3 right here, I highly recommend it!

I'm also going through a phase of powerful monsters (vampires, demons, the whole unholy pantheon) being on their knees for their human partner and, oh boy, it shows. I'm not apologizing. Oh. And the Helen of Troy/Sparta is NOT a gendered thing. It's more of being recognized as the most beautiful among mortals, enough to cause a war for their love. And yes there's a Ghost reference in there, I FINALLY got to properly listen to their music and man, why did I sleep on them for so long??

Devil May Halloween 2023 - Vergil's Path

Demonic marriages. There was a topic you had to admit you were completely ignorant about.

Vergil had mentioned it once. You did ask him when Sparda’s and Eva’s union arose as a subject in one of your researches one day – for, as far as you knew, marriages were religious and it did make you wander if demons had their own religion or only rituals.

That subject was very muddy, as per Vergil’s words. His own knowledge on the matter was very limited – and that was something new for you.

“Hmmm. A very good question indeed.” Vergil murmured as he put down his book on the table, raising his silvery eyes to you. The library was dead quiet, but his voice was always so low it wasn’t a concern – even if you both were the only living beings in that place at that hour. “You could say some demons are powerful enough to be viewed as gods, but those would be only the likes of Mundus.”

“And Sparda…?” Oh, you had to ask. After all, wasn’t Sparda the only demon strong enough to defeat Mundus? Who could ever defeat a being as powerful as a god? Only a god as well, at least in your mortal eyes.

Vergil allowed a proud smile to spread over his lips as nodded in agreement.

“Well, we do have Fortuna as an example of people worshipping demons as gods, so humans praying to demons doesn’t really surprise me. There are plenty of cults and even churches who do that.” You shrugged, organizing your books and papers, passing him a list of demonic cults you had been keeping track over the years. You weren’t one to judge, but, seeing your occupation was to slaughter demons, it was always good to keep an eye on them. “Eva and Sparda getting married made me wonder. Marriages are very religious, how did Sparda deal with that? Given his story, I don’t think it was only a civil ceremony for government benefits, right?”

“Right indeed…” Vergil once again murmured, curiously reading your list. It was a very thorough and good document, and he couldn’t stop himself to think how it was smart of you to do that. He had a list of people to keep an eye on as well now. “I’ve never really wondered about that as a child, for I didn’t know much of the world back then. We tend to accept that what we see and what it’s said to be true… But after I started researching and learning, it did spark my interest. As far as I can tell you, my father accepted my mother’s faith and married her by her rules, not the opposite. He would never do that just out of a civil agreement, he really did it for love.”

“So even with the power of gods, demons don’t have religions.”

“Again, that is a very good question. I never could really answer it with certainty.” Vergil sighed, leaving your list on the table between you and raising his silvery eyes to yours once more. “As impressive as it sounds, demons don’t lack faith. Some of them do worship more powerful demons as deities, and some of them do join each other in cults. As far as I could observe in Hell, they are very similar to humans on that matter: each has their own set of rules and beliefs and most of them kill each other for their ‘gods’.”

“Huh. Humanity once again proving they can be quite demonic.” You scoffed while rolling your eyes. Religious wars were as old as History itself and it was quite ironic for you to hear that was something present in demonic History as well.

“Or demons proving once again they have something of human after all.” Vergil shrugged after observing you a few long seconds, before turning his eyes to another one of his books again. “I’d argue not all humans, though. Differently from demons, most of them save themselves from being devilish and evil.”

“Hmmm. A few demons can also save themselves from that fate.” You had a slight smile on your lips, turning to your tea mug nearby. “And those who do can be even kinder than humans.”

That conversation would find its end right there that night, as both of you went back to your books and research – but you were able to see a slight smile on Vergil’s lips and how his eyes seemed to have softened after that.

Even if your Dark Slayer could soften under your words, you doubted other demons would do that – and even went as far as doubting they would have something close to a human heart. Vergil was different from all the demons in that place; and so, marriage was the last word you ever expected to hear.

But there you were, locked in a derelict room with Kyrie, surrounded by the long gone gothic architecture of a cathedral that once stood proud among those lands – now rotten, decayed, desecrated and with its colorful glass mosaics shattered everywhere, it was taken by demons to perform their unholy ritual.

“We’re really in it now, aren’t we Kyrie…?” You sighed back to the only human soul with you in that place – the only hope in that godforsaken night, lit only by the flickering warm light of candles. “Marriage. I did not expect it would be this way, though, I’ll tell you that much.”

“I didn’t expect it either…” Kyrie sighed in complete desolation, staring at a loose stone on the floor. “Nero is going to be so mad.”

“I can only imagine.” You answered with a giggle, taking a seat at rotten wood bench that once served as a place for priests to read while doing their own religious researches. “I don’t think Vergil is going to be very pleased as well.”

“Oh.” And it finally seemed to down on Kyrie who your lover was and how much trouble those demons were in. “Did he… Ever tell you about something like this…?”

“Well, marriage is not really a topic that usually arises with Vergil…” You had your eyes lost on an old bookcase, imagining if any of those would be worth a read. Not that you had too much time for that at the moment, but you were quite disturbed. If it was only you in that situation, you would be more at ease, but Kyrie’s presence changed everything. “But he did tell me about a similar ritual between humans and demons. The human usually isn’t a consenting participant though.”

Raising your eyes to hers, Kyrie felt a shiver down her spine. She knew exactly what you meant and that whole situation was also quite frightening for her – in a matter of fact, she probably wasn’t that scared because you were there; but even that didn’t help much. Not when both of you had no idea what was going on.

“I hate the fact they took my weapons. I’m thinking of a thousand ways to get out of here, but I can’t do it without at least my sword.” You rested your head on one of your hands, looking completely defeated. Kyrie had pity in her eyes, sitting by your side right after.

“Well… This isn’t exactly the sort of wedding dress I would choose either.” She sighed in desolation making you snort a quick laugh. “I’m not comfortable in this. I can only imagine how naked you feel.”

“Don’t tell me about it…” You rolled your eyes, pointing at your own attire. You and Kyrie looked positively ridiculous: it was as if the demon in charge of your clothes had only seen a bunch of 80’s movies depicting marriages and thought they had to be even more over the top than that. You could barely move in your own clothes and hated every single second of being in that thing. “If I at least had my gun, I’d shoot the bastard who thought this was acceptable.”

Kyrie had to giggle. It was always endearing to see how some of Vergil’s mannerisms spilled into yours over the time and vice versa. Your voice was as sharp as a piece of ice and your eyes had the same predatorial gaze – even if your words sounded funny in context.

“Couldn’t you use your summoned swords? Like Vergil?”

“I could but I shouldn’t.” Your answer was a little slow, because you were considering it. Using summoned swords was always an advantage, but it did come with its limitations. “Vergil is teaching me how to use all his arcane knowledge, little by little… But I’m human.” As you looked at Kyrie, she seemed to immediately understand what you meant: after all, she was the human companion of a half-demon as well. “It takes a lot of energy. Vergil can tap into his demonic energy that, honestly, it can power a whole city when he’s in the right mood. When it comes to me, though, I can only go so far. It takes a lot more concentration and I can do it only for a while – I’m a novice at it even, so I can’t hold it for too long. I need to train a lot more to be able to take an entire mission, for example.”

“Hmmm. It’s just like when Nero trains me with Credo’s sword…” Kyrie mumbled, resting her head on both of her hands, while her elbows leaned on her knees. You had to giggle: she looked like a bummed out child. “It’s so heavy, I can only do a couple of moves and I get tired quickly.”

“Is that why you’ve been training strength at the gym recently…?” You couldn’t stop yourself from smiling. There was something of sweet about that.

Your little angel was soon going to become a buffed little angel waving a big ass sword around. You loved that concept. Nero’s jaw would hit the floor.

“Exactly.” But Kyrie had the most angelic of smiles on her lips. You knew how it was important to her to be able to use Credo’s sword, even if it was just to protect herself and the children of the orphanage – she was never going to become a devil hunter like you. But she was going to be a guardian angel… Like Credo would’ve been if Sanctus hadn’t taken him away in that demonic cult in Fortuna.

Before you could say anything else, though, you felt a shift in the air. Furrowing your brows, you immediately got up from your seat and put yourself in front of Kyrie: whatever it was, it would have to go through you first. She didn’t say a word, seeming to hide behind you and that horrid thing you were wearing – which didn’t really work, seeing how evident her own dress was.

With a few sparks, one of the demon lords spawned right in front of you: Erlach.

“Everything seems to be ready for the ceremony, then. Good.” His smile spread across his leathery skin as a row of a thousand sharp knives. Erlach carried horns and claws, eyes with desolation and the fiery pits of his home, and a set of large wings fit for an overgrown bat – but something about his features were astoundingly human. Demon lords could tower over humans, sometimes even taller than doors, and carry all the might and horror of Hell, but their kind were built in resemblance with their mortal peers – which wasn’t very common when it came to demons.

“When you force your guests to take part in it, things do get ready at your will, demon.” You had that typical coldness in your eyes – the type that would make the will of a lesser demon waiver. It wasn’t the case with Erlach, though: a spark seemed to have crossed his eyes, as he stared at you for a few seconds with interest.

“Apologize being so rude, but I do think you wouldn’t have come this far out of free will, human.” He spat back, allowing a smile to take over his features once more. It wasn’t the most inviting thing you had ever seen, you had to be honest.

“With this sort of attire, I certainly wouldn’t have.”

To your surprise, Erlach laughed in response. You quickly shared a glare with Kyrie, both of you uneasy with such… Tolerance from him.

“I might have to agree with you. Now, come. I wish to speak to you in private – we have enough to discuss.”

*

Before you could even respond, you blinked and suddenly, you were in an old study. Probably a part of the cathedral that only priests had access, with private rooms where they could make their own little libraries and studies – the desk had books and documents all over it, the fire was lit and a thousand candles burned in orange to give light to one of the deepest nights of the year.

You tried not to sigh: demonic teleportation was always a nuisance to you. Your human body still had to get used to that and you always got a little angry at Vergil when he void teleported you with Yamato: he was wise to always ask your permission first and, if it happened during an emergency and it was the only thing available for him to protect you, he knew he was in for some serious complaining from your part later.

Honestly, Vergil would rather have you safe, complaining at him and as mad as a human could be than have you harmed in a place he couldn’t protect you. He was actually getting well versed in dealing with your void teleportation complaints.

“Your kind isn’t very prone to conversations.” You had to point out, taking a deep breath. Your dizziness would be gone in a few seconds and you didn’t want Erlach to know how much it affected you. “Mindless dismemberments and self-boasting talk seem to be the preferred route for demons.”

“Lesser demons. Demon lords do have a different approach to things… And deals.” Erlach walked around his table, skimming over some documents before turning his fiery eyes to you and smiling once more. “The brainless dismembering style is still preferred by some, though. Like Orcus.”

“The second demon lord here tonight.” As you noted, Erlach seemed to have enjoyed your answer. It meant you were paying attention, not only trying to escape. “Demons are quite selfish as well, I wouldn’t expect to see your kind engaging in alliances. Or is that something peculiar to demon lords as well…?”

Yes, you were trying to provoke him – it was in your fighting style, in your blood. When fighting against demons, they all boasted how terrible they were, how they would smash you into a paste on the pavement and feast on your bones. You had to know how to answer at the same level or the fear would get to you. After all, you were fighting against supernatural things on a daily basis, obviously faster and stronger than you. If you didn’t taunt them to inspire a little bit of fear and belittle them before your humanity, you would cower in a corner and wait for certain death.

It was something Vergil admired on you, though. You had everything to fear those you fought against – and, sometimes, you knew you were overpowered by them. Even so, you wouldn’t allow that to show, you would masterfully control your emotions and only let out those you allowed your enemies to see. Vergil was quite proud of that.

“It’s peculiar to those of us who rather use our minds instead of our powers.” Erlach’s eyes lost all interest they had on the documents and were immediately glued to you and you only. Not once you shifted your gaze, and not once your body seemed to want to run away. You just stood there, immobile, gazing back at his fiery eyes with the same conviction as his – waiting the rest of his answer. “You see, I could break your bones with the flick of my wrist, but that wouldn’t be so fun, would it…?” Erlach approached with a slight smile on his lips, some fun playing in his words. His steps were slow and calculated, everything he could to inspire fear in your human heart. “There’s so much more in this world than bending it to your will by force.”

“It is a lot easier. Or so did Mundus think.” You crossed your arms and slightly raised your head, failing to notice how arrogant you looked… Just like Vergil used to be. Dante said one day both of you would get your ass kicked for looking cocky and, well, your day might have arrived. You wouldn’t let your pride slip out of you, tough, and something about Erlach’s demeanor made you think he wasn’t really annoyed by it. His feelings were… Something else.

“It didn’t take him too far, did it…?” Erlach raised one of his eyebrows, slowly approaching you once again. He looked like a predator ready to pounce on his pray, but instead of running, you maintained your posture. The one the Dark Slayer taught you. The one from knowing the power of being tied to the blood of Sparda. “Mundus was arrogant to think humans were only meat.”

“Apparently we are unwilling wedding participants too.” You scoffed, making Erlach laugh in response. You had to hide how his reaction took you by surprise: how much did you have to taunt him for that demon lord to finally lose his temper? “I don’t suppose you brought me here only to properly propose to me.”

“Differently from the Spardas, I do believe in taking some things by force.” Erlach’s voice had a delight laced in his words that made you… Slightly uncomfortable. “The ritual is taking place tonight, whether you and your friend agree to it or not. I just wanted to look into your eyes and see what the son of Sparda, the Dark Slayer who had been locked in Hell for decades, saw in you. A bond between a demon and any mortal creature isn’t one to be taken lightly.”

“Well, then you aren’t in luck. I am not married to Vergil, nor do I think he will ever want to be.” Your answer was certain and, to the demon’s surprise, carried no tinge of bitterness. You and Vergil had an agreement regarding your relationship: he would be with you for as long as you would have him, but he would never think of binding you to his fate like his father did to his mother. You had said countless times you didn’t mind and you weren’t afraid, but it wasn’t something Vergil was ready for. And you could respect that. “Our bond is not what you think it is.”

“Oh, it is exactly what I think it is.” Erlach’s words carried a truth you feared you weren’t able to see at the moment – as if he knew something you didn’t. You had to control your feelings not to furrow your brows and allow him to see your confusion, hiding it under your unbothered and strong demeanor – like whatever words he said could never affect you. “It isn’t a ceremonial bond, but one of souls. The heart does not lie, my exquisite guest, and the Spardas seem to be haunted by their father’s heartful curse.” His fingers grasped an old piece of paper in one of the desks by your side; Erlach’s indifferent eyes analyzed its contents while he spoke. “I will never understand why Sparda decided not to follow our rituals. He could’ve been great; Greater than Mundus himself. But he chose to diminish and turn himself as human as he could be… and look at what happened to him and his family. A shame, really.” He tossed aside the paper, and you could see an old picture of Sparda and Eva, falling apart from how old it was. Probably cut out from a book, looking like a painting; a portrait made long ago, before Dante and Vergil were even born. “Our marriage is called a binding ritual. It requires two souls to connect, and it makes one of them more powerful than one could ever dream of.”

“Hmmm. It requires one to diminish itself and be a powerless servant, then. I can see why Sparda discarded this option.” He would’ve never done such a thing to Eva, and that you had learned from all the stories Vergil told you from his parents. If you had only known the story from the books and popular tales, you would’ve asked yourself the same thing and have the same questions Erlach had – but you did have Sparda’s own son to tell the story. To paint you how his father was warm, stern, yes, but still kind, graceful and loving… To paint him as human. In all his adoration for Eva, he would never think of turning her into a powerless slave to his will. That was not what love was. “You still have much to learn.”

Erlach’s fiery eyes immediately met yours – but they didn’t carry the offense you thought they would. There was something else inside his demonic eyes. Was it… Excitement? Maybe…?

“Oh, little human, you have much to learn then to think some wouldn’t appreciate being slaves to their partner’s will. It is all a matter of pleasure.” His smile, though, immediately made you uncomfortable. If that subject had been mentioned by Vergil, you would definitely answer with a sassy smile and state that, in a matter of fact, you did know about that – and see where that conversation with your devilish partner would get you. But with Erlach…? It sounded more like a warning rather than anything else. Definitely a red flag waving in front of you. “The other soul does get something in return – some very important things in Hell: protection and status. Desecrating the partner of one of the most powerful demons to ever live could easily be a death sentence to whatever demon foolish enough to do so.”

“If that is the case, and I am bonded to Vergil, I wonder how foolish you have to be to willingly kidnap and forcefully wed the partner of the King of Hell.”

You wouldn’t admit it out loud. You wouldn’t even say it in front of Dante and Nero. Whenever the subject decided to appear, you just nodded, agreeing with the others that what Vergil did was horrifying and terribly wrong.

But you couldn’t deny the power trip on the rare occasions you decided to flex Vergil’s King of Hell title.

It had its perks.

“Only foolish if I don’t finish the ritual in time, my little human. I was also careful enough to find myself some leverage.” Erlach immediately waved at the door, referring to Kyrie. You didn’t want to sigh in acknowledgement, but that was enough to at least try to put some halt in Vergil’s murderous rampage. Or to make Nero hold his father on a leash if Vergil just decided to recklessly kill everything on sight. You had some serious concerns those demons heavily understated Vergil’s power. “I had no intentions to let Orcus partake in this ritual but I did need a brute to carry out most of the killing; it would be terribly boring.” With those words, Erlach approached enough to stop right in front of you. At any moment you flinched or decided to walk back, even if everything in your being wanted to put some very good distance between the both of you. Preferably a Vergil of distance. “Therefore, he can bind himself to the weakest of partners. The grandson of Sparda clearly isn’t as attuned to power as Sparda’s spawns.”

“Only a demon would think a human heart is weaker than a devil’s will.” You scoffed in response, raising your head once even higher – in part to be able to look at Erlach directly in his eyes. Vergil’s gaze could cut like the sharpest of ice, and you had seen those silvery eyes in their worst. Erlach’s gaze was nothing compared to the Dark Slayer. “Maybe that was the source of Sparda’s power, have you ever thought of that?”

You would never throw a demon lord like Erlach at Kyrie, but you were quite certain he wouldn’t appreciate the truth to your words and would never turn to the crew’s little angel as the most powerful of partners. Demons could be quite predictable in your book.

“Hmmm. Maybe humans measure their status through empathy, but in Hell…” Erlach’s eyes leveled with yours, his head bowing to be able to share his gaze with you – and, instead of fear, he found something else… Something closer to pride. You were the counterpart of the King of Hell after all, weren’t you? You would never bow your head and lose your crown, Erlach was beginning to understand that. And appreciate that. “We measure through power. And you carry quite the power within you, dearest human. Vergil, the Son of Sparda, wouldn’t accept any less with all the titles he carries. He is part demon, after all.”

That was some food for thought that had never crossed your mind before. Yes, Vergil was partly human, but without a doubt, it was Dante who got most of Eva’s heart. Vergil always took pride in his demonic heritage and power, and always found solace in that – he slowly came to terms with his own humanity and learned to appreciate the human heart, but the thirst for power ran deep in his demonic veins. He did see something in you more than your human empathy… Or else, his devil would never consider bowing to you.

“Hmmm. If all you search is power then, you can always betray Orcus and perform the ritual only for yourself.” You had a spark of sharp intelligence in your eyes, making Erlach widen his smile as the words poured from your lips. “Surely a creature like you wouldn’t mind some backstabbing and murder to keep all the power to yourself.”

“Oh, my sweet temptation, I have to say, I love the way you think…!” Now his voice had a trail of smoldering lust that not even you could deny it was there. Yes, you were trying to manipulate the demon into killing Orcus and leaving only one demon lord for you to deal with – which would make your life quite easy – and probably releasing Kyrie while at it. But you never expected your little game to backfire so gloriously: perhaps Vergil was right when he said you still had a thing or two to learn about his kind. “And I know what you are trying to do – very exciting. A battle of wits and manipulation with a devil, you are truly fearless.” You didn’t think Erlach couldn’t approach you even more, but there he was, towering over you in a way you could almost feel his hot breath on your face. Even if you wanted to void-teleport Vergil right between you at that very moment, you wouldn’t back down – it wasn’t in you. “When all this started, I thought only to bond with a powerful creature of human blood – now… You have proven to be spellbounding, sweet sweet creature. I see what Vergil saw in you: all the cleverness, might, strength, wits; all that fire.” With those words, Erlach offered you his hand, with those fiery eyes staring inside your soul. “I will take you as my partner, but you can do it willingly. I will give you protection and you will be royalty in Hellish realms. You will rule by my side: everything we want is ours for the taking, and anything you ask, I will give you. Kingdoms, realms, worlds. Every living creature that has ever taken a breath will bow to us – the world is mine and yours to rule… You just have to say yes.”

Erlach’s words took you by surprise – your head spun and you thought soon your feet wouldn’t know how to keep you stable on the floor. Your plans backfiring was a serious understatement. You never gave Erlach a reason to like you: on the contraire, you only gave him reasons to be extremely annoyed and suspicious of any and all of your actions. He had no hidden agendas in his words, as far as you could see, and it was extremely obvious what was going on.

You just didn’t expect that to happen, out of all the outcomes of that night.

“Why would I do that when I am already royalty?” Your answer, though, came back with the icy stare you learned from your beloved blue devil, crossing your arms once more and raising your head high just like he used to do. It wasn’t something you did consciously – with time, people develop some mannerisms of their loved ones, and you were no different.

You just got Vergil’s arrogance – and you were more than ready to pay for your tongue. That little game between you and Erlach had already gone too far: you had spotted a few things in the room you could use as a weapon and you were ready to go feral if he attacked you because of your insolence.

You were disarmed, though, when Erlach started laughing – a laugh of pure delight.

“I will have to steal, then. Just like Paris did to Helen of Troy.”

“But remember: an entire kingdom burned just so that King Menelaus could have Helen of Sparta back.”

“Indeed, Beautiful Helen. I shall keep that in mind.” With those words, Erlach’s rough hands took one of yours by force and placed a sharp kiss on your soft skin – that seemed to burn like a lingering fire even after you were teleported back to your improvised cell.

You had to sit down. You had to sit down. That night was already becoming quite the ride – and you thought your Halloween nights couldn’t be even wilder than the ones you had already had so far. But there you were, proven wrong, by a demon lord with a crazy ancient ritual that required a demonic marriage. You were flabbergasted, shocked, breathless… And a little scared.

Vergil had always warned you not to play with demons – especially with those who were witty enough to answer at your level. You always thought he warned you so you could dodge being fooled and trapped into a deal you never saw coming in the first place – he never told you one of those creatures could develop feelings towards you.

“Y/n? Are you ok?!” Kyrie rushed towards you, sitting by your side on that bench you were before, checking your temperature. You were still staring at some lost point on the ground, clearly questioning your life choices so far. “Y/n! Did he hurt you?! What happened?!”

“I think one of the most absurd things just happened in this lifetime…” You murmured, finally staring back at her with a concerned look – but somewhat empty eyes. Kyrie just had her eyebrows furrowed, because if something worried you then she should be even more worried. “I think a demon lord just fell in love with me.”

“Ooooh, no…” The dread in Kyrie’s voice could be understood by even the most clueless of creatures. She closed her eyes, already foreseeing chaos and destruction. “Vergil is going to go on a rampage.”

Yes. And, honestly, you weren’t looking forward to that.

*

“I know we are in a hurry…!” Lady was leaning out the open door of the Devil May Cry van while Nico drove furiously right behind Dante’s trail. Screaming at the red devil while on the road wasn’t an easy – nor safe – task, but honestly, Lady had done worse. “But what are you trying to do, cowboy?! Not miss the train?!”

Dante immediately slowed down slightly, just so he could be side by side with the devil hunter he knew since his teen years. Looking up at her, Dante didn’t even have to watch the road to keep on going without running over anything – his demonic insight would make up for that.

“Kinda, Lady.” His answer was a little snarky, even if he didn’t want to. “Hey, kid! How are your instincts with your girl?!”

“Not good, I’ll tell ya that.” Nero growled, almost unable to stand still by Nico’s side. The gunsmith had made a mental note not to bother him through that whole evening: Nero’s fangs were already showing, his eyes had a tinge of gold, and his trigger distortion was already appearing in his voice. If she actually took some time to look at him, she would be able to see claws instead of nails and his hair a little bit longer than usual – almost like they were back in Fortuna. Nico still wasn’t used to half-triggered Nero and she could bet it would take some time. “Kyrie’s heart, she’s anxious. Somethin’s unsettling her. And I don’t like it. At all.”

With those words, Nero finished doing whatever he was doing with Red Queen and his sword clicked back into place, revving up with the engines he had installed long ago.

“If the kid is like that, imagine Vergil.” Dante stated back to Lady and Trish, now leaning by the open door completely unbothered by the speed and the wind. “He’s an idiot, but still, man’s got enough power to level a whole city. He’s an asshat who can control his feelings, alright, but he’s got one hell of a trauma and a thing for protecting. His partner is gone. He’s on a bloodlust rampage, trust me. We gotta get to this place before Vergil, or all hell will break lose.”

“Vergil’s our train. Got it.” Lady immediately turned serious, remembering all the times she had ever seen Vergil fight – and all he could do.

“Nico! Hit the gas pedal! We aren’t gonna get there in time going at this speed.” Trish strutted over the driver’s seat – always keeping an eye on Nero. She knew how half-triggers could be disorienting and dangerous, and she could help in case anything went wrong – after all, she was a full devil and, wanting or not, she could take down Nero in a fight, to some extent, if she ever had to. At least long enough to give Dante time to fight his nephew in a fit of rage.

“Already goin’ as fast as I can, demon lady!” Nico had her cigarette between her teeth and her foot never leaving the gas pedal. Indeed, it was the fastest speed for the van.

“We just gotta give it a spark, then.” With those words, Trish rested one of her hands on the van’s panel, her eyes immediately sparkling with thunderous yellow. Her demonic sparks ran through her body, pooling over her heart and running down her arm, jolting to the van and enveloping it on her signature yellow lighting.

“WOOOOAH!” Nico had to hold her cigarette even tighter, both hands on the wheel as the van seemed to fly on the road. “Are you CRAZY, woman?!”

“Keep your eyes on the road, virtuosa.” And Trish’s own glowing yellow eyes never left the streets. “We’ll make it there on time.”

“That’s what I’m talkin’ about!” Dante couldn’t help but laugh and use part of his own trigger to make Cavaliere go faster, now side by side with the van. “Keep it up, babe!”

They had to make it before Vergil. Dante knew in his heart he was the only one who could speak some logic back to his brother at a moment like that.

*

“Me and Vergil… We have a thing.”

You and Kyrie were being taken to the main event of the night: the ritual at the center of the derelict cathedral, under the light of the moon and the stars, witnessed by demons and the lost souls on the forgotten cemetery nearby. Barely any stained-glass mosaics were left – but those that were gave the cathedral an eerie tinge of color; like ghosts long gone in a place that was once holy. Your steps echoed on the stony ground, and you could hear the crackling of an enormous bonfire in the distance – as well as see the distorted, tall shadows of the demons taking both of you to your doom.

“I’m not saying it’s a good thing. I’m just saying it’s a thing.” You sighed, making her hazelnut eyes stare at you with interest as you walked proudly in front of her. The demons forced Kyrie to walk and kept shoving her until you made them only escort you to the ritual with just a stare of authority – she had to admit, you and Vergil were very much alike in some departments. “I can… Sense him sometimes. And he can sense me, whenever he wants to. It has to do with the arcane studies and the fact that we are partners.” You remained silent for a few seconds, closing your eyes for a while to take a deep breath before opening them again. “He can feel my distress. He knows when I’m worried, anxious, in danger.”

“Hmmm… Nero can do that too… I wonder if it’s a family thing.” Kyrie whispered back, not wanting the other demons to hear your conversation. You kept as close to her as possible, but still walking in front of her: if anything happened, it had better happen to you first.

“I wonder the same, too.” You answered with a breathy laugh, seeing the beauty of Vergil’s son being so alike him sometimes – and you wondered if Sparda had the same with Eva; with your heart already knowing the answer. “Sometimes, I feel Vergil’s rage too. His despair. His loneliness. His pain.” You went silent for a while, not really wanting to elaborate on that. It was the first time you were talking about that to someone on the crew – the first time you told Vergil, you had no idea what to do with those emotions and to say it was a roller coaster of a night to both of you, was an understatement. “What I feel is only a shadow of what he feels. And when he feels me, there is no force on Earth that will stop him. He will find me and, if need be, obliterate whatever is causing me trouble.”

“Oh.”

Kyrie finally understood why you said that wasn’t necessarily a good thing. When it came to her and Nero, their connection was deep and strong – and she had never seen anything like that before. But, the way you were speaking, it was different with you and Vergil… Maybe even stronger. And, when it came to Vergil, that could be for good or for bad.

You had to wonder how it was with Eva and Sparda. He was a demon, after all, and she was human. If Vergil was already that protective towards you, and that ruthless when it came to his enemies, you could see Sparda destroying entire countries for the woman he loved – being a harbinger of nothing but death, ruin and despair, only to have her feeling safe in his arms once again.

The fall of the city of Troy never made so much sense to you before that moment. Even if in the original story Helen’s heart was taken by Paris, still, Menelaus burned, killed, maimed and destroyed everything in his way just so she could be Helen of Sparta again… You could see Vergil and his father doing the same – but, in yours and Eva’s case, you would be longing to be back into their arms once more.

“Vergil is coming. And he is not in his best shape, emotionally speaking.” You whispered back to Kyrie so she could understand the extent of the situation you were in. “What I just felt, I could kill one of these demons with my bare hands. When Vergil’s here, he will do his best not to hurt you, but he is focused in one thing only so… Get out of his way. And I’m not trying to be rude…”

“I understand.” Kyrie whispered back, carefully noticing the demons eyeing each other. She knew you weren’t really giving her a warning, you were playing a little game: planting seeds of terror and discord so they would tear each other apart from the inside just from being afraid of Vergil. It was a clever move and Kyrie would’ve praised you if she had the chance. “I’ve already seen Nero almost go on a rampage. It really isn’t nice. I hope he doesn’t try to join his father, or there will not be a single rock left standing in this cathedral soon enough.”

She decided to play your game, noticing a slight smile of approval on the corner of your lips. All of you hunters always had smart strategies to deal with the demons you did on a daily basis, but, when you were completely stripped of your weapons just like on that moment, you had to resort to other ways of fighting.

Your scheming had to be put to a halt for a while when you approached the decaying wooden doors that opened your path down the church’s aisle – a moth eaten dark red carpet, now almost black from dirt and time, painting the path you should follow; until you would stand side by side with the devil who kidnapped you, now waiting for your presence by a tall bonfire at the center of the cathedral, illuminating an altar right behind Erlach.

Things suddenly seemed even more serious now and your heart sunk in your chest. As you started to walk down the aisle, the demons watching that hellish ceremony chanted and hit their weapons or claws rhythmically on the stony floor. Kyrie was held by one of the demons who guided you towards the aisle, outside of that madness, but soon to go in after your ritual came to an end – after you got married.

A few seconds after your heart seemed to have sunken on the floor, you felt a rage bubbling inside your chest, threatening to come out of your mouth with an earth shattering scream; running through your body like a violent bolt of lightning, resting on your hands that immediately closed to fists as you raised your head high: for a split second, if you saw anything that could be used as a weapon to cut Erlach’s head off its neck, you would’ve taken it and plunged in like a furious beast.

That lightning, though, dissipated as fast as it ran through your body. You didn’t lose your posture and kept walking with certain, hard steps towards your fate – but that blind bloody rage was gone.

It was Vergil.

You knew it was him. It was right after you had that desperate, desolating feeling of not knowing what to do, of watching that harrowing scene right in front of you and not knowing how to get out… Of feeling trapped like a little mouse on a cage. You felt some of Vergil’s emotions in a very fleeting manner – in a bolt of lightning – but he could feel yours more certainly and longingly. That bloodthirst that ran through your body… It was just a fleeting taste of Vergil’s emotional response to knowing how unsafe you felt.

After all he had been through, protection was a big thing for your blue devil. He silently promised nothing would ever happen to his newfound family now that he was strong enough to protect not only himself, but everyone around him. Knowing you were vulnerable, completely exposed, feeling like prey and he wasn’t around to keep you safe… To say Vergil’s demonic blood was boiling was a great understatement.

“Come, brilliant creature among humans. Midnight is close, and the ritual must be completed.” Erlach offered you his rough, devilish hand so you could take and approach the altar with him – a stone containing a couple of candles and an old golden bow, marked by ancient, dry blood.

You stopped right where you were, not taking his hand, but still staring into his eyes. You were thinking of words of defiance, of improvised weapons, of anything you could do to get you and Kyrie out of there. If you had to fight that demon with hands and teeth, so be it, but you wouldn’t back down – and if it was for you to die, you would die fighting.

Your thoughts were interrupted by a roaring thunder rumbling through the pitch-black skies right above your heads. You couldn’t see any clouds and it didn’t seem like it was going to rain earlier that day, but that ominous thunder roared once more – with a flash of a lightning in the distance cracking down from the sky suddenly illuminating your face as you opened a broad smile. Erlach only eyed you with confusion, taken aback by the sudden prelude of rain.

“A storm is approaching.” Your somber voice did not match the smile across your lips and Erlach’s eyes filled with understanding – even if he himself didn’t think that was possible for only a half-demon like the Dark Slayer. “You have yet time to give up this foolishness before he arrives.”

“I am not scared by a little thunder, human. You shall learn that in time.” The demon decided to ignore the warning on your voice, taking your hand with a little too much strength, already guiding you to the altar.

But you heard whispers – among the other demons, yours and Kyrie's words were being replicated, some of them resting silent while others laughed. With your ominous warning over a simple storm, though, they started to wander… To fear. Was that something done by your lover? Was that the extent of Sparda’s power? The Dark Slayer, the one who escaped from Hell and from his imprisonment by none other than Mundus, was that powerful…? They didn’t know. And some of them, didn’t want to find out.

“Oh, you will learn to be scared.” You whispered, back, slowly going up the few steps that kept you and Erlach far from each other. He conducted you with an iron grip, while the only thing you had in mind was to buy Vergil more time to get to you. “As all of you do.”

“Not if I get the ritual done first.” With those harsh words, Erlach gripped your arm in a way you couldn’t escape, even if his gestures were a lot more flourished than brute. You saw a ritualistic dagger in his other hand and you knew what the next step would be. “Then he shall learn a thing or two about fear.”

His hands moved so fast you didn’t have time to quip back – even if you wanted to answer that, after all Vergil had been through, making him feel fear was quite the achievement. Very few things could frighten his heart and soul… And you were oblivious enough to point out that, Vergil’s protective and enraged response that day was not only out of love, but out of fear of losing you.

Before Erlach could resume cutting your hand to harvest your blood for the bonding ritual, you managed to pierce his arm with a white summoned sword. With that surprise, Erlach dropped the weapon and you took it in your hand – twisting it and approaching him enough to press it against his neck, already making him bleed. You just didn’t manage to kill him because his survival reflexes made him snap our of his surprise and hold your hand against his neck, struggling with you in order to see who would win: you, by taking his life, or him, by taking you as his.

“My King of Hell isn’t the only one who should be feared, demon. You will learn that with time.” Your voice was low and filled with pride, hearing as the other demons immediately started whispering to each other: Orcus and Erlach probably didn’t tell them all the titles your lover carried.

As if to support you, another thunder roared in the skies and a lightning cracked near the desecrated cathedral. Some demons seemed to gasp and become startled, expecting Vergil to emerge from the shadows at any moment.

A few drops of water started to fall on your hair, your face, and run down your hands… And between your lips as you smiled.

“You are indeed a rare one.” But, to your surprise, Erlach smiled back. His sharp nails buried in the skin of your arm holding the knife, making you relax your grip ever so slightly as blood started to run from the wounds he inflicted. “Blood is blood. No matter how I attain it. Alas, I wanted our bonding to be beautiful, but this will do.”

With your blood running down his claws, Erlach grasped the blade on his neck, cutting his own hand even if you didn’t let the dagger go. Reaching out for the golden bowl, you once again tried to stab his neck, but the demon finally let go of your other arm only to hold your hand back. As you both struggled, you did your best to keep his hand away from the bowl, with Erlach already muttering some words in a language long lost to your human ears.

It was your blood already mixed with his. Whatever you did, he couldn’t reach that bowl for anything in this world.

You didn’t notice when the rain became stronger. You didn’t notice when Orcus moved Kyrie away from the door. You didn’t notice when the thunders seemed to roar inside the earth beneath your feet. All your strength was concentrated in keeping Erlach away from the altar, and all his strength was focused on completing the ritual on time.

“Before me all things create were none, save things Eternal, and Eternal I shall endure.*” Oh, you would recognize that voice even if you were dead. The words creeped through the stone walls of the cathedral, accompanied by calm, calculated steps approaching with resolve. The demons’ attentions turned to the rotten door, as well as yours and Erlach’s eyes, finally stopping to struggle. Vergil’s silhouette finally made itself visible, as if he was taken by a cold blue aura in the darkness – his silvery eyes set on you and your foe, one of his hands grasping the hilt of the Yamato as the other kept the sword safe at his side. “Per aspera, ad Inferi.”

There was a change in the air. Your very breath seemed to warp around you as time became slurred and thick. For a few moments it was difficult to breathe, as the storm outside that desecrated place looked like it would start bleeding inside the cathedral. You stumbled back, closer to the altar, dragging Erlach with you – you knew what was coming. Some demons tried to run, others froze in place, while some got ready to fight.

You could see how that cold, fiery blue started to cut the air – a split second before Vergil disappeared and all you could hear was the sound of the Yamato slicing everything in sight. Time stopped for a while, your breath disappeared from your lungs, your heart didn’t beat. You held yourself together as strongly as you could, while Erlach stared at that view with a pair of impressed – or maybe even fearful – eyes.

Vergil appeared once more, now standing a few meters away from you – all he had to do was climb the steps to finally reach you. Placing Yamato in its sheath, Vergil took a few long seconds to get the shiny blade to slide down and, with a click, make most of the demons – and whatever decoration that was left standing – fall apart in piles of flesh and blood.

You didn’t want to say you had warned them, but well… You had warned them.

“You’re too late, Dark Slayer.” With those words, Erlach reached the bowl – now even closer than before, since you dragged him back not to be so close to a judgement cut of that magnitude. His words were like a bell, waking you up to the reality that a single drip of your mixed blood in the gold, and it would all be over.

But Vergil unsheathed Yamato once again, as fast as he moved down the aisle to reach you, and the golden bowl was cut in half – cracking in some places, gold dust spilling at your feet.

“You should learn, demon, some things can never be taken by force.” Vergil’s voice was like a velvety murmur in the dark – and you knew, the quieter he grew, the more time he had to marinate his anger. “Love, is one of them. Respect, is another.”

Those silvery eyes finally landed on yours, as a faint smile spread across your lips. Love would be nothing without respect, and Vergil argued that earning your respect was one of the most honorable things you could have graced him with – not that the love was not of importance, but if you had never come to respect him, the love you shared would have never flourished… And the reciprocate was true.

“Well, well, looks like we’ve arrived in time.” You heard Dante sighing by the door, guns already on his hands. “Big bad demon is all yours, Verge. We’ll handle things back here.”

“Kyrie!” And you barely saw Nero as he ran towards Orcus with all the rage of the world in his eyes, slicing demons in the way with a revved up Red Queen and leaving a trail of fire behind him. Sometimes he was a lot like his own father, but other times, his uncle's heritage shined through.

Vergil didn’t even look back at the crew already killing the demons who fought and who tried to run away – he only had eyes for you and the filthy creature holding you in its arms.

“Last time I saw you, my whips cracked on that soft skin of yours, spawn of Sparda.” And for the first time that night, you heard some more emotion on Erlach’s voice – something close to hate. Maybe he wasn’t as controlled as he said he was… Maybe he was prone to violence after all. “You tried your best to hold back your tears as your filthy blood tainted the floors of Hell. But everything cracks, eventually.”

A jolt of pain burned across your skin on your back as if you were naked, as fast as a bolt of lightning. You couldn’t help but to wince at the feeling, even if Vergil and Erlach remained immobile. In a fraction of a second, you understood a little of that pain, of a memory in the back of Vergil’s head that came back like a kick in the stomach, and it seemed not to affect him at all – but you knew, you could feel what he didn’t show.

The pain was fleeting, but the anger wasn’t – that was yours and yours only. As you suddenly flinched, you took advantage of that moment of surprise to move your arms once again and the strength of your boiling anger to slash Erlach as you could, eager to take a piece of him… Eager to kill him after the suffering he put your lover through.

“Everything cracks indeed.” You murmured as he took one of his hands to his face, noticing the considerable gash you opened on his cracked skin – now pouring blood profusely. “Next, I will cut your tongue.”

You heard a quick chuckle from Vergil, silvery eyes observing you with so much pride – and a little of something else. Pride was always easy to see in him: the way he carried himself, the way he posed with his head high, the way his eyes admired that which he respected and loved… But care was a different thing. If you were looking at your lover, it would take you some time to notice, but his admiration for you was never ending behind his pride to be able to call you his.

“I do understand how you came to love this human, that I will admit.” Erlach hissed back at Vergil, licking his own blood from his fingers. Risking a glance at the cathedral, the demon assessed the situation: the bowl was broken, the demons were all but destroyed, fleeing from the weapons of Dante, Lady and Trish, Nero had Kyrie back in his arms and Orcus was nowhere to be seen. “I truly underestimated the depth of your feelings for such a fragile creature.”

“Eloquent words, but no wisdom behind them.” Vergil’s response was prideful as always, as he walked the small set of steps to reach you – and probably slice Erlach apart. “Fragile is far from what I would use to describe y/n. I will burn bridges, destroy cities, crush entire empires to protect those whom I love and respect. There is nothing of fragile in that.” Pointing Yamato at Erlach, the blade almost touched the wound you inflicted in the demon’s neck. “You should remember that as I kill you for this insolence, pitiful scum.”

His stern eyes glinted with a tint of blue, as Vergil’s teeth were already sharp in fangs. His hands around the Yamato already started to resemble claws and his voice, even if you would love it in all of its iterations, had that distinct demonic distortion. His blue fire engulfed him like a faint shadow, but it did make your lover look even taller than he already was. On the brink of his humanity, it would take only a spark to make him burst into his demonic form.

“King of Hell.” You mouthed at Erlach while pointing at Vergil right in front of you, as if to prove a point – the point you wanted to prove from the beginning: no matter what those demons did, Vergil was stronger and more powerful than all of them together.

And, of course, you could use another rush of power whenever you flexed that title. You just hoped no one else in the crew would see it: you’d be in for some harsh judgement if they did.

“I shall remember for the next time we meet, son of Sparda.” Erlach turned his fiery eyes to you. “And I shall see you again, brilliant Helen.”

With those words, the demon used its own blood for an incantation to flee a battle he would definitely lose – a smart move, even if you didn’t know where he went… And if that ominous warning was not something you would have wanted to hear. You would prefer to see him dead.

“Hmmm… Bold of this creature to assume it could steal your love like foolish Paris.” Vergil had to murmur under his breath, immediately turning around to face you, Yamato quickly back on its sheath. Before you could say anything, Vergil took your hand in his with a surprising gentle touch, only so he could analyze the bloody scratches on your arm – as well as allow his silver eyes to burn with wrath. “Are you hurt anywhere else?”

“No, that’s the only wound. You don’t need to worry, Vergil.” Your answer, though, made his eyes fly to look into yours as if you had said one of the most jarring things he had ever heard.

“I will always worry about you. You know that.”

He didn’t have to say, you could feel it. You had felt his worrying ever since he had learned it was Erlach who kidnapped you and wanted to complete that mad bonding ritual. Vergil’s worry was in his fear of losing whatever love he managed to have in that godforsaken life of his, and that usually manifested in an unparalleled anger in him. All that wrath… It was one of the highest praises you could ever get from your lover.

Placing both of your hands to cradle his face, you didn’t allow Vergil to keep on speaking as you pressed your lips against his. It was one of the most effective ways you could rest that flame inside his heart and bring him some peace – the same way the droplets of rain seemed to want to wash away all the blood and fury of that night. It took him a couple of seconds to start melting under your touch, arms wrapping around your waist and bringing you closer to his body, as your kiss quieted the fear that burned inside his heart.

You parted from his lips, even if Vergil himself didn’t seem to want to do so. His breathing, though, was already going back to a normal pace and you couldn’t feel his fangs under your lips anymore. As those silvery eyes stared back at you, the blue tinges were gradually gone. You took your hands to his hair, taking the rebellious strands that were already falling on his vision and brushing them back into his usual hairstyle – and Vergil even allowed himself to thank you with a soft smile.

“I cannot help but wonder, though…” He finally murmured, voice back to his dark tone with no traces of his demonic side showing up. “What, in the name of the gods, you are wearing.”

“Apparently, this hideous thing is what demons consider a wedding attire.” You sighed back, still in his embrace. You refused to look down and see yourself in that ridiculous thing again. “I wanted to get rid of it, but alas, the other option was to be completely naked.”

“Hmmm…” You didn’t know if Vergil hummed or growled, but you did know he was quite unpleased by that sight – almost as much as you. Taking your hand, Vergil guided you around the enormous bonfire behind the altar, in a place the crew couldn’t see you. “Don’t move.”

Before you could even ask what he had in mind, the air around you warped and your clothes fell on the ground after a quick and clean judgment cut.

That was a way to solve things, but…

“My clothes…”

Vergil immediately took off his coat, wrapping it around you and keeping you close, helping you dress it and hold it closed in front of you. It was a lot bigger than your form, and definitely a heavy piece of clothing, but it smelled like him – and that was one of the things that could always calm the distress in your heart.

“We will find your clothes. But you cannot walk around dressed like a clown.” With you still in his arms, Vergil placed a rather long kiss on your forehead, catching you by surprise.

A nice surprise that made you smile.

“On that, I agree with you. If we were ever to get married, I would have never worn such a thing.” You whispered back, making him chuckle while staring into your eyes again. Sometimes, the ice in his silver stare seemed to melt for a while, just like at that moment.

“You would be a beautiful sight to see.” His answer was also a whisper, and a rather unexpected one: that was something you never expected Vergil to say. He often mentioned how Sparda marrying Eva was a blessing to him and a curse to her, even if you insisted on arguing that probably wasn’t true; but you would never expect Vergil, of all people, would have imagined you on a wedding day… With him.

“Hey! Are you both makin’ out behind that bonfire? C’mon, it’s not time for that, Verge! Did mom never teach you to have manners?”

Dante’s voice interrupted whatever you could say in response, as Vergil already started to growl in annoyance at what his twin brother was implying. You headed back to the crew, twins ready to start bickering once again, as always. You saw Kyrie wearing Nero’s coat and couldn’t help but giggle – like father like son.

You sighed, finding Vergil’s fingers and entangling his between yours – his touch reciprocating immediately. It was time to go home.

*

“Your fingers are cold.”

Vergil held your hands close to him as you waited for the crew to drive back to the shop. Nico was smoking behind the wheel and you took some time to rest as everyone tried to find what the demons stole from you and Kyrie as well as where they found out about that binding ritual – or demonic marriage, as you began to enjoy calling it.

Your lover couldn’t stay away from you for too long, though. He came back after a little while, not wanting to admit he was too worried to leave you alone for more then a couple of minutes – even if you were with Nico.

He would argue if something bad happened, you would be the one doing the saving while Nico would be screaming around and trying to run demons over… And you couldn’t really disagree with him on that.

“Well, it’s part of my human condition.” You smiled back as Vergil had his mouth close to your hands, trying to warm them up with his breath. On the other hand, there was your blue devil, arms completely naked under his leather vest, oblivious to the weather. “I can’t keep myself warm while naked under a snowstorm like some.”

“Well, I cannot either.” Even if his eyes were a little harsh upon looking at you, there was also some amusement hidden underneath the ice. “Although I would survive enough to get you to safety.”

Vergil’s eyes went back to your hands while you kept on observing how he occupied himself with the task of warming you. His lips were close enough so you could feel them ghosting over your fingers, but never touching your skin. His rough hands cradled yours with a touch so gentle one would never expect from the likes of him. Everything about Vergil screamed danger, but when it came to you, it was completely opposite.

“I wished so bad you would find me.” You finally whispered, keeping your eyes close. Feelings weren’t easy for the both of you; somehow, you found that closing your eyes while being around only him was easier to allow your heart to open – and there were times Vergil did the very same thing when talking to you. “I… I did my best not to seem frightened. Kyrie needed me to stay strong, the demons couldn’t know and have the upper hand. But I was scared. I was lost. And I wished, deep inside my heart, you’d somehow find me in the darkness.”

“I know.” His answer was quiet, hands still wrapped around yours. You could feel Vergil’s breath as he spoke, slowly opening your eyes to find his looking back at your once again. “I know. No matter where you are, I will always find you.”

For a few seconds, the air lacked in your lungs and the words in your mouth. If you weren’t alone, you would’ve fought the tears that marinated your eyes, even if you didn’t want them to fall – they would rest there, making it seem like you were observing Vergil with a whole universe in yourself, just for him. And he would always appreciate that.

“As soon as I felt your rage, I knew you were coming.” You confided back, making him furrow his brows for a while. “I happen to be pretty good at energy work, Vergil. Remember sometimes I get to feel you back? I did today. And that’s when I knew I was safe.”

The last pieces of the puzzle arranged themselves in Vergil’s head: of course, when he got the strongest emotions from you, it was easier for you to get his. But when his emotions were too strong, that connection could work as well, for better or for worse – and he remembered how you flinched in the cathedral when Erlach mentioned how he tortured Vergil… When he was taken aback for a few moments suddenly feeling that pain he tried so hard to forget.

It was a shame you had to feel that too – his eyes went down to your hands while his eyebrows furrowed now from annoyance rather than confusion.

“Don’t beat yourself up about it.” You whispered back, placing your fingers under his chin and making Vergil look back into your eyes. “I’m here for the good, the bad and the ugly – no matter how harrowing it gets. You can always rely on me, as I know I can always rely on you.”

“As long as time will have us be together.”

Vergil’s murmured response was crowned with a gentle kiss on your hands, making you smile softly in return. You knew he was still annoyed with the fact you felt the worst of his emotions, but at least you were safe – and, for now, he would have to settle for that. You just hoped one day Vergil understood you didn’t see those terrible things that happened to him as a flaw, but as something he didn’t have to carry quietly on his own.

It just made you respect him even more than you already did.

“You don’t realize what you are, do you…?” Your question was a little absent as you kept on observing his stern face, with those silvery eyes now staring at you in confusion and distress: his heart beating a little faster, concluding you finally came to your senses that you had decided to give your love to a devil. “You deem yourself as one of the cruelest and worst creatures to ever walk the earth, but you don’t realize… Demons don’t protect their loved ones like you did today.”

To his surprise, you wrapped your arms around his neck, making Vergil instinctively hold your waist so you wouldn’t lose your balance. All the while, you never allowed those vulnerable silver eyes to leave yours.

“Angels do.”

As you placed your lips on his, Vergil’s embrace held you tightly against him – and even after you parted, he remained holding you, his head hidden in your shoulders and your hair. Vergil was silent and didn’t make a single noise, but you could feel the tears leaking into your mouth during the kiss and later dropping on your neck.

His heart could take a lot of harshness and cruelty, pain and torture, without even flinching. But this time… It was the first time in his life that Vergil was seen as good.

And his heart wasn’t used to that.

----

*Inferno, by Dante Allighieri

[farenmaddox]

I think a lot of Cas's feelings of being lost are because of how recently he kind of "gave up" on heaven and his identity as an angel who could lead the other angels back to their original purpose. Angels are supposed to protect and cherish humanity, and it was much easier in earlier seasons for him to feel righteous in his defiance because he was right that protecting people meant preventing the apocalypse and standing up to angels who disrespected humanity.

But the things that he did between seasons 6-9 in service of that goal were... not great. He always had the best of intentions, but it absolutely decimated heaven. He is directly responsible for a LOT of death. So even though he may still feel that humanity is worth protecting and even though he still adheres to that goal (and sees Dean as the primary embodiment of that), he's lost his perspective on HOW to do that and what his role in that should be. Despite how close he has become to humans and despite taking a human family, he still has a fairly cosmic concept of what protecting humanity should look like. This is what led him to being Lucifer's vessel in season 11, and I think the fact that this plan ultimately failed and that Dean was the one to save them all simply by being his beautifully human and compassionate self was really difficult for Cas to deal with.

It's extremely visible in most of season 12 that Cas is struggling to see his place in the world. He can't find/defeat Lucifer and he also can't seem to fit in with the family and be a hunter. He sees himself failing at everything he set out to do, and the fact that most of the primary antagonists in season 12 are just humans doesn't help. He loves humans, but he still doesn't really get them. He feels useless against the Men of Letters and the government and witnesses to the crimes they investigate, and it is a primary part of Cas's personality that he really needs and wants to feel useful. (Relatable!) I don't think it's a coincidence that there are multiple times in seasons 11 and 12 where someone refers to Cas as the Winchester's dog or pet (and it's also not a coincidence that Rowena's spell that nearly killed him and did kill some angels gets called the "attack dog" spell).

And then... Jack. The idea that protecting humanity means protecting this child is less complicated than the quandries he's been mired in for years now, and more uniquely suited to Cas's skill set. They have the Lily Sunder episode, where he has to question his previous stance on nephilim, not to mention it was killing a nephilim that helped Metratron pull off his spell at the end of season 8, something Cas is surely still beating himself up about, and the fact that Ishim and Metratron both lied and manipulated Castiel into it provides a really strong link between the two incidents. Protecting a nephilim instead of killing one must seem like a chance at a type of redemption. His own status as something caught between human and angel allows a certain feeling of solidarity, and of course there's the simple fact that Cas is one of the few things in the world that is both willing to do this and actually has a chance of standing up against the kind of threats the child might be facing.

There are a lot of implications at the end of the series that Jack wasn't what Cas wanted him to be, that Chuck won, that they never actually got to break out of the narrative and be free or happy. But it still matters that from Cas's perspective, this was his choice and that protecting and guiding Jack was both personally fulfilling (became a father, rediscovered "who he is") and was good for the world (because Jack is good for the world). It wasn't about "serving" Jack in the way he served heaven, because that wasn't how he saw it for himself. He was always the one who was quick to tell Jack that it was okay when the situation had changed and maybe Jack couldn't fulfill his "destiny." That he still loved him no matter what, that he was willing to protect him, even from the rest of their family. He was Jack's father, not his servant.

Cas says this, in 15x02: "Even if we didn't know that all of the challenges that we face were born of Chuck's machinations, how would we describe it all? We'd call it "life". Because that's precisely what life is. It's an obstacle course, and maybe Chuck designed the obstacles, but we ran our own race. We made our own moves. And mostly, we did well with that." Maybe that is hopeless naivete on Cas's part, but it meant he died happy and fulfilled. That's better than what Dean got!

forgive me if this doesn’t make any sense but… if the “one day” that “something changed” is supposed to be jack being born, then idk if i like the implication that, before then, cas had just always felt lost and purposeless. are we talking since he left heaven, all the way back in s4? like idk but i’d always thought it was pretty clear that even when cas is unsure and making mistakes and misguided, even when he feels lost at times, starting in s4 when he began to help dean, cas had chosen his purpose to be protecting humanity and protecting his family. and he never really stopped trying to do that, that desire never really gets lost, even if he takes a wrong turn at times ie s6. so like that quote is confusing to me cause imo cas’s vision from jack should have just reaffirmed his desire to protect humanity, but the quote implies that he had found a new feeling of purpose with jack? what purpose, if not loving and protecting humanity? which imo was always there?!?

sorry for the word jumble, but your comments on that quote, a quote i’d not really paid much attention to in the past tbh lol, got me thinking 😅

this makes complete sense!!! and you definitely got my brain wheels turning so thank you! no yeah absolutely, it's weird, and the more i think about it the weirder it gets. here is the dialogue we're referencing, btw. i'll give the benefit of the doubt here and say: there are a lot of days cas could be referring to. it could be the day of lucifer rising, for example, or the day he was resurrected from purgatory, or the day he was resurrected from the empty. it could be any number of days. i cannot conclusively state that any one day is "the day."

but here's what led me to assume it was a jack-related day: that since jack has been back, cas has been hitting the "jack's destiny" talking points hard, and that he ends the speech with "i found a family, and i became a father. and in that, i rediscovered my faith. i rediscovered who i am."

on jack's destiny: here are the examples i can find from s15, all from 15x12. there aren't any additional discussions involving cas about jack's destiny in 15x11, 15x13, or 15x14.

so this is what immediately sprang to my mind when i heard cas talk about purpose. that in season 15, at this point, cas believes his purpose is to help jack fulfill his destiny. he is connecting his worth to jack's "success" in terms of jack doing what he's "supposed" to do. he has faith in jack. he has faith jack will be good for the world. without jack he is lost.

and this actually echoes 12x19 the future. this is from the production draft shared by @spnscripthunt-inactive. notice the themes of feeling no longer lost, of having faith, of feeling "normal" "for the firt time in a long, long time." it may be worth mentioning that both 12x19 and 15x12 (where the above quotes come from) were written by meredith glynn and robert berens.

all of this together reads to me as: cas is defining himself and his own success by jack's success. and that changed on the day jack showed cas a vision of the future, a vision of "paradise" (according to cas). cas needs to believe his faith and trust in jack are correctly placed, that he is doing the right thing. he needs to believe he has a purpose, and he has decided his purpose is helping jack fulfill his (jack's) purpose.

and to thing #2 that made me believe the speech was about the day cas decided he was tied to jack: the way he closes the speech. "i found a family, and i became a father. and in that, i rediscovered my faith. i rediscovered who i am." finding a family and becoming a father are two separate things. finding a family happened much earlier. becoming a father is necessarily tied to jack (i'm not inclined to count claire here - not because she doesn't matter, but because i don't believe cas OR claire view cas as her father). and the way it reads to me is that when cas says "in that," he's talking about "in becoming a father." because it came later. i read it as "finding a family helped, but what really made me rediscover my faith and who i am was becoming a father." and that aligns pretty closely with what is said in 12x19!

so to your point (oh wow that was a long tangent, sorry). literally everything you're saying is spot-on to me. i think we can trace the roots of cas feeling lost and seeking a purpose all the way back to s4 - definitely! i think it's a huge struggle for him because he wants to have a purpose, he wants to feel like what he does matters, but it is difficult for him because he feels like he doesn't know what's right. prior to season 4 his purpose had been clearly spelled out for him (he's an angel, he does god's will). and while he no longer accepts that purpose as his own, i think he craves something as simple and straightforward as that purpose. it's really difficult for him in those s5-s12 years when he's bouncing around, trying to figure out what he should be doing! but i think you're absolutely right that the underlying theme, the underlying purpose is always protecting humanity, protecting his family. i'd add an element of "doing what's right/stopping evil" too. but yeah, cas DOES care about humanity. he DOES care about the little guy. he DOES want to prevent human suffering and misery, and to help relieve it wherever he can. it matters to me that cas cares about humanity because that's one of the things that makes him so different from the other angels. i think over time his tactics change to achieve the goal of protecting humanity, but the goal itself does not change.

so does being jack's father = protecting humanity? kind of. if we believe that jack will successfully usher in paradise, then yes, cas helping jack fulfill his destiny would make things better for humanity and arguably protect them (or reduce the amount of protection they need). but i don't think this has the same level of attention/care towards humans that cas has previously shown. it's about making sure jack succeeds so he can fix everything. it's not about making things better right now.

and this is where i get into opinion territory: i, like you, don't like the implication that cas has always felt lost and purposeless! lost, yes. unsure of his purpose, yes. but i feel like the framing here is that cas has just been aimlessly drifting about for all these years, totally incapable of finding a purpose. i do not think jack and god are the same but i don't see much of a difference between "i am an angel, i serve god's will" and "i am a father, i serve jack's will." especially because there is a chance, however slight, that jack was manipulating cas. that the vision jack showed cas was not a guarantee.

it feels to me like jack hands cas a purpose the same way god handed cas a purpose. and i thought the beauty of cas choosing free will was that he got to choose his purpose himself. this feels like it was chosen for him and he went along with it because it was easier to have a purpose selected for you by a being of unfathomable power. and i sympathize with that immensely! and i also think there was profound beauty in cas discovering his purpose on his own, even when it was a struggle.

[everysongineverykey]