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urprettylittlething · 11 months

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In The Shadows

Purge Alternate Universe

Yandere - Gojo Satoru x Reader x Geto Suguru

A/N - Okayyyy I've been working on this for like a week and it's the longest I've ever written for one thing, I had a shoulder injury which is mostly healed up now during the week which hindered my progress a little because I originally really wanted this to get out nearer Halloween time, but oh well TT at least its here now right? Lmao, but I hope you guys enjoy it, I tried my best and lowkey kind of hate it, I wished I could've done more or something, but if you have any ideas around this for a possible part 2 let me knoww, although no promises ;) Consider this a massive thank you story, I now have over 100 followers and the likes and reblogs and comments, you guys, I'm crying, I love you all so much <333333 I love interacting with you guys and your comments on my stories or in my inbox <3333 you all make my day ilysm <3 :( AND IM SORRY I COULDNT HELP IT, they're kind of really mean so its more harsh yandere than the soft you all wanted :( I couldn't help myself its a purge AU TT, but I promise ill make something softer in the future <33 sorry this is so long omfg, but let me know your thoughts pretty please <3 and if you actually read all of this ily

summary - Another purge night is here and you think your safe and sound, but let your guard down and you'll find yourself bound.

warnings - purge, mentions of 'off screen' murder, actual 'off screen' murder, kind of gore but reader doesn't see it, blood, rope, reader gets tied up, gags?, tape over readers mouth, they're actually kind of really mean lol, especially Geto, descriptions of panic, anxiety, overthinking, stalker situation kind of, swearing, crying, brief hair pulling, if there's any more let me know ml <3

genre - Oneshot

wc - 7.2k

~spelling and grammar fixed already~

Edit - the top photo 6/11/23

The tip tapping of fingers on keys echoed around the silent room. The occasional footfalls of people around her walking up and down. Picking up books to further aid their studying would slip past the music playing in her ears when they were loud enough.

Every time she would hear someone being a little too loud for the library they were in she would glance up and shoot a half-hearted glare their way.

They’d never see her but it was the thought that counted. A barely audible sigh escapes her as she brings a hand up to massage her cold fingertips into the throbbing skin at her temple.

Nervous nibbling was occupying her teeth and lips, chewing away the flesh and creating tender spots her tongue would soon soothe.

She’d been staring at the same empty document for two hours now. No more than two sentences she was able to come up with before she’d erase them in a fit of frustration.

Abandoned textbooks lay closed behind her laptop, she’d deemed them no use around thirty minutes in, but she couldn't bring herself to get up and search for better ones.

She was antsy, not able to focus on her assignment due in a week's time. Her brain was all fogged up, too many thoughts going through her mind and yet she's not able to focus on a single one.

The purge was tonight. March 21st. And it was currently 1pm.

Why did she even bother to come to the library in the first place? Was she hoping to distract herself even just a little bit before she had to hunker herself down in her dorm for twelve hours?

Maybe. Yes.

Was it working? Absolutely not.

She was too skittish. Overthinking everything that had the potential of happening later and things that have previously happened.

‘Someone's not going to come and try to kill me just because I forgot to return their pen that one time, right?’

The amusing, albeit a little dark, thought did make the corner of her lips twitch just the smallest amount.

Taking off her headphones after stopping her music, she closes down her laptop and starts to move it into her bag.

She spares a quick glance around the few tables next to hers as she stands with the library's books in her arms. Her eyes locked with a man sitting roughly two tables down. Slumped back in his seat.

Gojo Satoru. Bright white and fluffy hair paired with a set of dazzling blue eyes. The ones currently peeking over the tops of his round shades that had slid down his nose as he tucked his head down slightly.

Sitting in front of him and abstracting her view of Gojo only slightly is who she assumed was Geto Suguru. Two peas in a pod and never seen without the other. The long black and silky strands of hair tied up in a half up bun was a giveaway to who he was as well.

Both of them were originally from Tokyo, Japan. Coming over to America over five years ago. Or at least that's what she’s heard from around the place, not knowing them personally. They were the most popular boys in school when she had joined a little over a year ago and they still held the title strong.

She doesn’t think she's ever really interacted with them. At Least not on any kind of personal level. Sure, maybe from a few friends of friends or passing each other in the hallway and being polite to her upperclassmen, but nothing all that memorable.

Which is why this prolonged eye contact is sending a very noticeable shiver down her spine. The smallest twitch of a smirk on his face and she was breaking eye contact, gulping down the pooled saliva in her mouth as she turned around and hastily made her way in between the towering bookshelves.

Leaving the library after stacking the books she’d previously taken back on the shelves, she hastily makes her way down the long corridors. Keeping her head down, her hands clutched tight on the strap of her bag. She passes very few people in the hallway.

Even after pushing through the doors and trekking her way to the dorms at the end of the path, there were very few people loitering around outside. Some of the people she passed looked like they could be stoned, not that she could really blame them. Some looked a little too relaxed and happy and some were just trying to get to their destination as quickly as possible. Like her.

As the doors came into view, and then the stairs, she slowly began to relax, her fast pace lessening up. Successfully getting to the safest place she could for when the purge would start.

It was also a massive relief that her two good friends would be staying with her during the twelve hours of horror. Last time she was by herself there had been multiple scares throughout the night. Nothing too big but something she didn’t think she could handle alone again.

Reaching her door on the third floor she fiddles with her keys for a few seconds before her door clicks open and she pushes her way inside. Closing the door and locking it again for good measure.

It was 1:43 pm.

A few minutes after she had arrived back at her dorm did she realize she still needed to pick up some food items. Being a broke student meant she had essentially nothing in her cupboards or her fridge. And if she was ‘hosting for the purge’ this year, it meant she had to stock up at least a little bit.

‘Imagine trying to hide from a killer and your stomach growls, I think I would just die on the spot.’ She thinks, the smallest smile gracing her face. Humour is usually her way to cope in situations like these. It’s either that or panicking and she’d rather try to save that for the main event.

With a heavy sigh and hesitation weighing her limbs down, she slowly puts her shoes and jacket back on. She can make this quick. In and out. Easy peasy.

With a quick jump while shaking her limbs out to get rid of her last minute hesitation, she quickly opens her door and steps out before shutting it behind her. No going back now. Locking the door behind her, she starts making her way back down the stairs and out the doors, walking in the direction of the food store.

Her nerves were still playing up though, eyes darting this way and that as if trying to find a reason for her to panic. ‘It’s okay, the purge hasn’t started yet, all those things are still illegal.’ Is what she keeps telling herself while taking a deep breath. But the fact they won’t be in a few hours was still cause for some panic.

Arriving at the store, she wizzes around, collecting any good looking snack and throwing it in her basket before hastily paying and leaving. The heavy plastic carrier bag hanging from her fingers gave her reason to think she went a bit overboard.

Her quickened steps and accelerated breathing were all she could hear for a while. Her walk back to her dorm was supposed to be a quiet one, less and less people were loitering around meaning less and less noises to distract her.

Especially from the new set of footsteps that have appeared behind her.

As soon as her mind clocked the extra set of footsteps there, it went into overdrive. ‘Who is that? Are they following me? No, you're being delusional, they're just trying to get back home. But are they? They just appeared out of nowhere. Are they going to try and kidnap me? Rape me? Stuff me in a van? Drag me down a dark alleyway and murder me?’

Her mind was racing, steps quickening and breathing silenced under the new threat. ‘Oh god, what if they’re stalking me? Waiting until the purge starts to come and slaughter me? They’re going to kill me. They’re going to kill me. What should I do? What should I do? What should I do?’

And then they were gone.

It barely registered in her mind that the fast paced footsteps from behind her had vanished. A sharp breath escaped her before her head whipped around on a desperate whim. No one. Not a soul on the path behind her.

Her shoulders sank with relief and a watery laugh broke free from her trembling lips. ‘I’m losing my mind.’ She thought. Even though that feeling in her gut had faded, it never fully disappeared. Her racing heart never slowed and neither did her footsteps.

Y/n hurried back to her dorm, almost running through the doors and up the stairs to fumble with her keys and quickly burst in. Double checking she locked the door behind her, and then checking every other lock on her third story apartment. Only when she had made sure they were all secure could she finally relax.

Her body shivering and hands shaking from the after effects of adrenaline. Her breathing is still a little shaky as she pulls a bunch of pillows and blankets into her tiny living room. Pushing her chair and sofa away to make more space as she lays everything out as neat as she could, making the floor a comfy space for her and her two friends to crash for the purge.

She empties the snacks from out of the plastic bag and piles them in a nice little corner near the TV. A small stack of movies there for when they’re all waiting for the purge to start. Some cards in a pack were also placed there.

The three of them are wanting to be as quiet as possible while the purge is going on. Everything locked, curtains drawn, lights off, TV with no volume and only subtitles, quiet games to play in case they got bored, etc.

They weren’t taking any chances. It was doubtful anything would happen, since nothing really ever did in the dorms. No student here would go as far as murdering somebody, everyone mostly stayed inside, not wanting to risk anything. She only knew of a few people that have snuck out before to rob a few stores, or do some petty revenge like smashing someone's car without getting into trouble.

But overall, it was best to remain quiet. They didn’t want to get murdered because the TV was turned up too loudly and attracted some wrong attention.

It was 5:15 pm.

This is the time her friends arrived. Knocking some made up code on the slab of wood before messaging just for good measure that it was really them outside.

After unlocking the door and letting her two good friends inside her dorm she swiftly closes and locks it again. Relieved greetings transpire as well as nervous whispers about the purge and some small gossip of who they think would actually go out this year and who are likely to stay inside.

The three of them start to make their way around her dorm, closing all the curtains and double checking the locks on all the windows and doors. Especially the balcony and front door.

After they’ve secured the apartment, they turn off all the necessary lights, flicking on a few electrical lanterns and setting them up around the living room, but away from the windows. They’ve left one lantern in the bathroom and one in her bedroom, both turned off, just in case of emergencies.

The three of them settle in a spread out pile on the blankets she put down in the living room. Some snacks are passed around already and a movie is slotted into the TV, playing as background noise mostly while they talk.

Erica, a sassy but kind of dumb girl, with choppy shoulder length hair that had been bleached and dyed a light green. She's donned in a crop top and sweatpants, comfy.

Don, a friendly giant, very kind in nature but also a little muscly. He has short black hair and a sculpted jawline. He also came in sweatpants and a baggy white T-shirt, also comfy.

Her two very good, and only, friends here. They’re in a few of her classes and all regularly hang out together.

“So,” Erica begins after her mouthful of powdered donut. “Who do you think is going to actually purge tonight? Like, actually actually. My moneys on them two hotties in my class.” She finishes, wiggling her eyebrows..

Don hums around his half empty soda can. “Yeah, honestly I wouldn't be surprised if they did.”

Y/n pipes up, “Wait who?” sitting up against the sofa behind her, getting comfy like she's about to hear the gossip of a lifetime.

“Oh, Em, G! You haven’t heard of it? You’ve seriously been, like, living under a rock or something.” Erica says jokingly. Picking apart pieces of her donut and eating them.

Don perks up too. “Really? You haven't?” Y/n shakes her head in denial as Don shrugs. “I get it, it’s mostly stayed in our class, hasn’t spread much further than that.” He says before crawling forward and rummaging around for more snacks.

“So get a load of this right!” Erica sits up too after finishing her donut. Waving her hands excitedly as she tells her latest gossip. “You know them two really hot upperclassmen right?” She draws out her ‘really’ and waits patiently at the end of her sentence for the other girl's confirmation.

When she nods in slight confusion, Erica continues, “There were some major rumours in class that the two of them were late this one day because they were beating someone up. And I don't mean like a few slaps or hair pulling, I mean punches. You know?”

Y/n nods again, this time with furrowed brows and Erica continues, “At first, I didn’t believe it, obviously. But then, the two of them came into class and I swear there were blood stains on their clothes. Blood stains! Not to mention all the plasters and bandages all over their hands! I just had to believe it then! Wouldn’t you?”

After the end of her long rant she slumps back against the front of the sofa and mumbles incoherently to herself shaking her head while pouting.

Don, who had been listening silently, pipes up, “It was true, I was actually there for once.”

Y/n’s eyebrows raise in disbelief at what she had just heard. Fighting, here? She couldn’t help but to doubt it, if only just a little. Stuff like that has never happened here. Or at least while she had been here. It was just unheard of.

And for an attack so vicious to result in blood being drawn, then there must have been somewhat of a good reason for it. That was the conclusion she came to.

“I mean, there had to have been a good reason for it.” Y/n says, “They’re pretty nice people aren't they? It is Gojo and Geto were talking about here, right? They’re really popular here too.” Her eyes darted between her two friends, looking for more answers on this unexpected juicy gossip.

Erica sighs wistfully, “No, it got shut down pretty quick, which I guess is why so little people have heard about it. God, would I pay to see them fight though. Their muscles must have looked amazing.”

They stop talking about it after that, Don getting distracted by the snacks and whining about how she didn’t get his favourite. Erica smacking him with a few pillows and complaining how he’s getting in the way of her movie she was barely even watching.

Their playful banter did little to distract from her inner turmoil. A small shiver went down her spine again. The memory from earlier in the library resurfacing in her mind. Gojo staring her down, the creepy walk back from the shops and now learning the two had at the very least helped in injuring someone.

It could just be because it was purge day, but everything was beginning to creep her out and she was overthinking again. ‘What if he wants to attack me next? What if all of those things were connected and someone really was following me home? What if he wants to kill me? What if both of them want to kill me? Have I ever done anything to offend them? I haven’t, have I?’ She knew these were far fetched and ridiculous, but she couldn’t help but think of them anyway.

Her spiralling thoughts were halted when a stray pillow smacked her in the face. “Oops, haha, sorry.” Erica sheepishly apologized, bringing her hand up to smooth down Y/n’s ruffled hair. Don was laughing in the background.

Y/n was stunned for a few seconds before replying, “Oh, don’t worry. How about we put something else on? This movie is kind of boring.” crawling across the piles of pillows and blankets to reach the stack of movies.

This caught the other two’s attention, eagerly rushing to the stack as well to try and get first pick. Arguing for a few more minutes before settling on a movie they all loved. Snuggling back into their original positions.

This was how the next few hours went before the announcement appeared.

It was 6:59 pm.

At exactly 7 on the dot, the TV went black before turning blue, the government announcing the commencement of the purge. Big bold letters and ‘Emergency Broadcast System’ and ‘This is not a test’ were displayed on the screen.

They were all quiet as it played out. The mood quickly turned sombre.

“Weapons of class 4 and lower have been authorized for use during the Purge. All other weapons are restricted.”

Don gulped.

“Government officials of ranking 10 have been granted immunity from the Purge and shall not be harmed.”

Erica huffed.

“Commencing at the siren, any and all crime, including murder, will be legal for 12 continuous hours.”

Y/n shivered.

“Police, fire, and emergency medical services will be unavailable until tomorrow morning at 7 am when The Purge concludes.”

She released a shaky breath. The announcement ends with “...A nation reborn.” before stopping. The screen turned black again.

No one moves or says anything. Each of them were frozen in an array of emotions. Fear being the most prominent.

The silence stretched on for minutes. Eerie in its wake, not even being able to hear other people in their dorm rooms like she normally would.

Eventually, after releasing another shaky breath and rearranging herself with trembling limbs, they all snap back into the present.

Don coughs and Erica shuffles awkwardly.

“Cards, anyone?” Y/n meekly speaks up. The other two nod as they sit in a small circle.

It was 7:36 pm.

This was when the first explosion of some kind was heard by them. Each of them froze in the middle of playing their mostly silent game of cards. The noise was distant, but the impact remained.

A scream from a few doors down echoed in the silent space.

They waited with baited breath for any follow up, but when nothing happened, they slowly relaxed. Each of them assumed it was the explosion that must have scared someone. Sometimes it’s better to think of the positive, rather than what that scream could have been for.

A few minutes later a siren bellows in the distance, a few car alarms wail.

Nothing too bad, but knowing that it could mean someone was being murdered out there didn’t give them any ease.

It was 8:02 pm.

This is when the banging starts. Y/n thinks it could be a few doors down again. Erica thinks it’s below them and Don thinks it’s above them.

Wherever it was, it was concerning.

Erica releases a small nervous chuckle. “Maybe someone is just having a good time?” A fake smile plastered on her face to try and mask her worry. Even she didn’t believe her little theory. Not during a time like this, during The Purge.

It was a few minutes later, after they had quietly resumed their game, that footsteps were heard.

Clacking down the hallway.

1, 2.

They were walking at a leisurely pace. Taking their time. Strolling down the hallway and getting closer and closer.

All three of them looked towards the door, as if someone were to burst in at any moment.

The footsteps slow before coming to a stop. Right outside her door.

The three of them hold their breath, bodies flinching when a light knock rings out into the open space.

Complete silence.

Another knock.

None of them had even noticed the earlier noises had stopped, too focused on the potential threat now right outside the door. Seemingly wanting someone to open up.

Three pairs of eyes dart between each other. Silent questions trying to push their way out without being heard. A few panicked half shrugs and furrowed brows with downturned lips later, another knock rings out.

This time it was a little louder.

Barely audible whisperings of ‘you go’, ‘no you’, ‘fuck no’, ‘who even is it?’ cut through the silence. No one wanted to ask the question. To even speak a hint of it lest it result in it coming true.

Eventually after a solid minute of panicked, almost silent, squabbling later. A frustrated and frightened Erica pushed herself up. Taking a very obvious deep breath. Eyes closed and silently mumbling to herself before taking a few steps over to the front door.

She tried to be as quiet as she could but each step sounded like it weighed a ton. Every creek and every wobble made to sound the loudest.

Very quietly bracing her hands upon the door, she leant up on her tiptoes. Peeking into the peephole positioned in the centre of the door.

The two left in the pile of blankets still. Not wanting to even breathe in fear of disturbing whatever was happening in front of them.

A sudden screech of pure panic and fear tore from Erica’s throat. Flailing before landing with a harsh thud on the floor beneath her. Scrambling backwards on her hands and feet, keeping her eyes on the door the entire time.

The two startle and immediately jump up, laboured breathing hindering their lungs from the sudden scare.

“What the fuck? Erica what happened? What was that?” Don frantically whispered. His eyes were also locked on the door.

Y/n also whispered to her, “Who was that? Erica?” her eyes locked onto her friend, not able to bring herself to look at the door yet.

“It was.. Oh god.. The peep..” Erica wheezed out. The fright took too much out of her with her frantic gasps for air.

A sudden bang echoed into the room. A few more followed before they all realized it was coming from the front door.

Erica screeched and threw herself back into a standing position, rushing for the kitchen and grabbing any sharp knife her eyes first laid on.

Don stood frozen in fear. Not able to move or barely breathe from the looks of it.

Y/n wasn’t any better herself. Downright terrified. This was her dorm. Her dorm. Which means whoever was outside, was looking for her.

The banging persisted, the person on the other side seemingly determined to get in. This proved correct when the handle started turning whichever way it could.

She didn’t even realize, terror clouding her senses because when she looked back to her two friends, Don had collapsed into himself, wheezing with little air entering his lungs amidst his panic. Erica was cornered in the kitchen, sobbing, tears flooding her cheeks and ruining her mascara she had in place.

The persistent banging stopped for a second. The faint sound of another pair of footsteps approached from the hallway outside. Muffled talking pursued but it was hard to make anything out, between her pounding heart, Erica’s sobs and the slab of wood in the way, didn’t make for easy hearing.

For Y/n, it seemed there was one second of complete silence. No sobbing, no voices, no distant alarms or explosions, no racing heart, no wheezing lungs. Before chaos sprung onto them.

Suddenly the people outside, because there was another person now, resumed banging on the door. But it didn’t seem like they were ‘just knocking’ anymore. No.

They were trying to break the door down.

She could see it from the way the door groaned and creaked under the relentless kicking. She couldn't quite tell if they were using their feet, or an object, or whatever.

All that mattered was that they were trying to get in. And they were going to succeed.

“Move! Hide! We need to hide!” She whisper-yelled. Rushing to Don and tugging on his arm to try and get him to move. He stared at her for a few seconds before his brain caught up, registering what was happening around him. The real danger he was in right now.

“Hide.. Oh god..” He panted, sprinting for the bathroom, the first place his eyes had landed on.

With Don now searching for a place to hide, she ran her way to Erica. Still trying to be as quiet as she could, in the little hopes that they would think she wasn’t here.

“Erica, we need to hide! They’re getting in!” She frantically whispered to her hyperventilating friend. Trying to shake her shoulders, even resorting to lightly slapping her face to try and get her attention. She was desperate.

“Please!” The sound of splintering caught both of their attention. Heads whipping towards the door starting to cave. She wasn’t all that surprised, that slab of wood was a shitty excuse for a door anyway.

Erica suddenly sprung up and dove for the piles of blankets in the living room. Trying to bury herself amongst them, taking the knife with her.

And now that all her friends had been taken care of, she ran for her bedroom. Trying her best not to stumble and fall in the dark hallway.

As soon as her door came into sight, she gently opened it, gunning for her wardrobe tucked into the corner of the room. Not even looking towards the turned off lantern, she didn’t need them knowing her hiding spot from something so obvious.

It was already messy anyway, so in her frazzled brain she didn’t bother caring where she tossed piles of clothes and shoes in her room.. They’d hopefully think it was like that in the first place.

After quickly clearing a space big enough for her to curl into, she did just that. Situating herself just right, back pressed against the side of the wardrobe, knees tucked to her chest and pressed against the boxes in front of her. She was sitting on old shirts she hadn’t seen for months.

Hearing the door breaking even further, she grabbed any clothes within her reach and threw them over herself. Shutting the door when she was mostly covered, she could have sworn she could hear laughter coming from the hallway.

A loud crash and splintering tore through the air. She knew it was her front door. And now they were inside.

Her hands slowly went up to cup around her mouth, trying to muffle her breathing as much as she could. Her body froze. Even when she already began to feel muscle cramps settling in, she dared not move. She forced herself to breathe slowly. Every inhale a struggle along with a reminder that she was still alive at this very moment. Even if she was convinced she wouldn’t be for much longer.

The thought brought tears to her eyes. The original shock wears from her body and settles into something akin to despair.

Her throat started clamping up, muscles seizing and throbbing with the need to cry.

It was the thudding of footsteps that shook her out of it. Snapping her half way back into a nightmarish reality.

She gulped. Closing her eyes and straining her ears for any information they were willing to receive.

Just as she thought. Two pairs of footsteps.

With every thud of a shoe or a spike in their muffled talking, her body would tremble.

It remained like this for a few more minutes. The footsteps or talking occasionally pausing.

It was during one of these silences, where a different sound was heard. She couldn’t identify the exact sounds, just ones of commotion. They were still all muffled. And then she heard muffled yelling.

It sounded so dulled, between the walls and layers of wood and clothes, she could barely make out anything, her ears straining for any hint as to what was happening. Being left in the dark like this, literally and figuratively, was terrifying her.

And then this horrible, awful noise carried its way between the cracks in the wardrobe. Crunching. Cracking. Stomps.

That muffled yelling from before kept getting cut off. Eventually dwindling down into a barely audible groan. Those thuds never seemed to stop either. Never ending, crunching, cracking, and now wet thuds.

Her brain was trying its hardest to process, to catch up with the information that it has been provided with.

More footsteps, only one pair, accompanied with muffled laughter. And a more distinct sound traveling through the air.

A scream.

Even more laughter, hurried footsteps and pleas of ‘no’, ‘please’, ‘don’ts’.

It was now, with the wet stomps still in the background, her screeching friend, that eager laugh, that her brain had finally caught up.

She was going to be sick.

They’re hurting them. Killing them.

Her friends.

Her body moved out of its own violation. Shaky hands and feet kicking and pushing their way out of the pile of clothes. Wardrobe door swinging open with a creak.

She collapsed out of it. Slumped on the floor, dry heaving. Her lungs not seeming to take enough air in but yet holding in too much. She couldn’t function. Fear overwhelmed every part of her. As well as grief.

Her ears were ringing and she was left gasping, drool dripping onto the hard floor beneath her as a result of her attempted vomiting. Eyes wide open, blurry when she tapped back into her mind.

Tears, clouding her vision and dripping audibly on the floorboards below her.

In the distance she could hear muffled talking. Two men, she could make out more clearly. Not only that, but squelching, wet, gooey noises seemed to mingle in the air. Gurgling was the next before silence.

A minute passed, maybe two before the footsteps started up again. Those goddamn footsteps.

1.. 2.

But they were slower than before. Steady. Taking their time.

And getting closer.

Her instincts kick in, blinking profusely to try and clear her eyes from the tears, looking up and darting around before landing on the space under her bed.

She wouldn’t have enough time to fix her spot back in the wardrobe. She couldn’t run past them, not even in her best state which she certainly wasn’t in right now. She had considered her bedroom window as an option, but it was locked, which would take time to open. Not even mentioning the fact she was on the third floor, so jumping out would break at least something important. They would be quick to notice as well, and if they came for her, it was likely they would decide to chase her down.

Under her bed seemed to be her best option at the moment, and she was running out of time. Scrambling as quietly as she could, she slid herself directly under her bed, trying to center herself in the middle of it, tucking herself into a tight ball.

The footsteps stopped right outside her bedroom door, she had enough sense to shut it on her way in, thank god. But that clearly wouldn’t be enough to stop them.

Almost as if the person was teasing her, they slowly clicked the door open. The distinct creak she had grown accustomed to over the months making itself known.

Her muscles are tense, tightening in the presence of her predators.

In the dark space from under her bed and in her room, it was obvious when the light from inside the hallway started spilling in the more the door got pushed open. In the vague depths of her mind it registered that they must’ve either turned the hall lights on, had taken one of her lanterns, or were carrying one of their own.

Her lungs were burning with the effort to keep her body running with the little air she was allowing them to have, all for the sake of trying to keep quiet.

It was all too silent once again, only for a second or two before the second pair of footsteps came towards her. A lot more hasty compared to the other ones.

Her breath silently hitched, the new person pushed their way into the room, stepping past their company before a thunk was heard. The sound forced her body to startle, jolting her muscles and kick starting her trembling again. An uncontrollable reaction to the fear she was under, the unrelenting motions causing a deep ache in her ribs.

The sound of rustling was now heard. It seemed they were looking for something. ‘They’re going to kill me. They’re digging around for a weapon to stab me with, to bash my head in, to murder me like they did my friends. I’m dead. I’m dead, I’mdeadI’mdeadI’mdead-’

Her racing thoughts consuming her fear riddled mind failed in picking up the sound of the other pair of footsteps slowly creeping round to the end of her bed.

The person paused, silently crouching down low before a pair of hands reached under.

The sudden tight grip on her ankles followed up by the sudden pull had her screeching. Pure terror flooding her veins. She had been yanked out from under her bed, lying sprawled on the floor and gazing up at the towering man stationed above her.

Her lungs burned, seizing up before a sickening scream escaped her. Fuelled by genuine, unrestrained horror.

They had found her.

One of her lanterns they had brought in illuminated his face in a haunting light. The darkened shadows stretching and contorting behind him to create the most grim image for her mind to paint. Not that it was far off.

A foot standing on either side of her hips, straddling her if it wasn’t for his standing position. Hands nestled comfortably back in his trouser pockets now they had done the job of retrieving her. A comfortable looking long-sleeved shirt adorned his figure. Dark splatters starting from the bottom of his shoes and creeping their way up his legs, tapering off into a few spots that painted one of his cheeks.

An easy smile softly ingrained on his face, followed by gentle looking eyes peering down at her if it wasn’t for the malicious spiral she found herself paralyzed in. Dark locks of hair extended down his back, past where she could see from her position, with the top layers sectioned off and tied back into a bun.

His mouth opened and he spoke. “Well, well. Look what I’ve caught for us Satoru.”

Satoru. The other man must be Satoru Gojo, and this was Suguru. Suguru Geto. The most popular guys she knew, the supposedly kindest. And then staring in the library, the walk back from the shops, the gossip her most likely dead friend had told her.

Her body suddenly felt like it was pumped full of adrenaline. Pushing herself up as fast as she could, using the bed as support all the while stumbling over her numb riddled legs. She took off, running towards the open door she so desperately wanted to pass through.

A sudden arm snatched her from around her waist and she screeched. Pure instinct driving her at this point as she scratched and kicked and flailed in his, Satoru Gojo’s, hold.

The sound of something dropping before his other arm came round, collecting both her wrists in one hand of his. His grip tightened the more she fought. Her body pressed tight against his, her back to his front. His head situated itself on her shoulder, tucking over and pressing his cheek to hers even while she cried and panted and kicked.

She could feel his grin pressing against the side of her face. “Such a pretty little thing we have here. Can’t let her get away so easily now, can we? Not after all the trouble we’ve gone through.” The last part practically whispered into her ear as she turned her face as far away as possible from him.

A little laugh boasted out from Geto. “Of course not.” He strolled over to them, bending down to pick up what Gojo had dropped in order to restrain her.

Rope.

Fucking rope.

The moment her eyes zoned in and processed what Geto was unravelling in his hands she tried to fight back even harder. Eyes flooding with tears that spilled down her cheeks. Short mumblings of ‘no’ being repeated over and over while becoming louder until she was yelling.

“Please don’t do this! Let me go! Please, please.. Stop!” She shrieked while sobbing, convinced they were going to kill her or torture her or something horrible like that.

Gojo walked the two of them to the edge of her bed before forcefully pushing her down, manhandling her onto her front and bending her arms to rest pressing against her back.

She sobbed into her ruffled sheets as she felt Geto fastening the rope tight around her wrists, the rough material digging into and pinching the sensitive skin. Raw and red marks already forming amidst her struggle.

Her legs still hung off the bed, trying their best to kick and hopefully injure one or both of them, but she knew it was a losing battle. None of her landing blows made them falter in any way.

When her wrists were successfully restrained Geto kept them pressed to the small of her back while Gojo let go and reached down to grab her ankles. Pulling them up and bending her legs at the knees while they both worked in finishing the task of tying her up.

When they finally stepped back to admire the work they’d successfully done, Y/n deflated. Tears soaking into her bed in which she rested on top of. Her lungs still burned, having never stopped. The hogtied position she had been forced into leaving her nothing to work with in terms of escaping. Not that she could think clearly anyway. The distress she was under proved too much.

“Oh, Shh Sh Sh… There, there, sweet thing. Settle down for us now. We aren’t going to kill you.” Cooed, who she could only guess right now was Gojo.

Geto reached forward from his position of kneeling on the bed, gentle soothing pets stroking her hair. Her sobbing tapering off into hiccupped breathing even while flinching with every touch. “There you go, good girl. See that wasn’t so hard now, was it?”

He pulled away from her, stepping down off the bed and heading towards the previously discarded bag on the floor Y/n hadn’t noticed before..

Y/n slowly turned her head round, no longer pressed into her sheets. Her eyes were red and bloodshot, swollen from all the crying she’d been doing. Little hiccups and groans left her while her lungs tried to recover. She’d given up struggling right now, it had done nothing but cause her pain as the rope dug and squeezed the skin of her wrists and ankles.

Gojo piped up from behind her, only now feeling the heat from his legs pressing into hers causing her to flinch. “You know, this would’ve gone a whole lot easier if you had just let us in sweetheart.” She could practically hear the smug smile in his voice. “Look at where you are now, tied up all pretty for us. Ripe for the taking.” He pressed closer to her at that, voice practically dripping with need.

She whined in fear and started squirming at his words. Panic flooding her senses again for just a second before a sharp tug to her hair had her yelping, halting her movements.

“I thought I told you to quit that.” Geto was back to kneeling on the bed in front of her, his hand gripping tight onto her hair, eyes narrowed.

Her bottom lip trembled, breaths picking up with every second he glared down at her.

“Don’t be so mean, Sugu.” Gojo said, a teasing lilt in his voice.

Geto glanced back at him before humming and letting go of his harsh grip, her scalp burning in turn. “I suppose you’re right. She’ll have plenty of time to learn when we take her back home.”

Gojo hummed and she felt him leaning away from her, hearing him crouch down and fiddle with something from the bag as well.

“Back home?..” She stuttered, voice hoarse and throat dry.

Geto looked back down at her, amusement painting his face. “Yes. Home.”

“Where..” She started, face formed in a twist of concern and confusion. “Please.. I.. Just let me go. I won’t- I won’t tell anyone, I’ll- I’ll leave you alone, I’ll do anything, please..” She gasped out, tears gathered freshly in her eyes again, voice cracking every few seconds.

An amused eyebrow raised with the hint of a smirk at the corner of his mouth was all she got as a response.

Gojo had come back, reaching round and fastening a strip of duct tape around her mouth in a sudden flurry of movement. Giving her no time to process what he had done until after he had done it.

She cried out, the sound muffled thanks to the tape, worried eyes darting around in panic as she tried squirming again for the third time.

Gojo pressed up behind her once again. “You’re not going anywhere, sweet pea! You’re ours now. We’ve had you picked out for a long time now.” The joy in his voice didn’t fail to put her on edge, his words doing their part in helping the tears gathered in her waterline to finally spill down her cheeks. Wetting the tape situated over her lips.

“He’s right.” Geto replied. Bringing one of his hands up to show what he had collected from the bag a few moments ago. The mobile phone in his hands glowed brightly in the dark room, the lamp from before having been moved, the light now dim.

“We’ll bring you back with us soon enough, but we still have a few more hours to kill before that. And why waste them.” Gojo said, the grin in his voice unsettling her, keeping her frozen in fear.

An easy smile pulled at Geto’s cheeks at that, head tilting to the side to gaze down at their pretty prey.

“Well what are you waiting for then, Satoru?”

A pause. Smile pulling into a predatory grin.

“Have at it.”

#geto x reader #gojo x reader #geto suguru #gojo saturo #jujutsu kaisen x reader #yandere geto #yandere geto suguru #yandere gojo #yandere gojo satoru #yandere gojo x reader #yandere geto x reader

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connorsblog · 3 months

Text

˙✧˖° SWEET TOOTH P.1 📷 ༘ ⋆｡ ˚

warnings: gore descriptions of animals, mention of walkers (obv), and some cussing if you count that,,

pairing: soft!s4!carl grimes x reader

kind of an au where rick doesnt pass out and carl & judith reunite immediately after the prison era (if that makes sense)

I HAD COMPLETELY forgotten why i was here, i was supposed to be scavenging.. but i got side tracked by a cluster of ducks off the edge of this pond.

they all looked oddly peaceful, even when walkers were snarling quietly behind the doors of the barricaded houses from when the world went to absolute shit.

my keys dangled loudly from my pant pocket as i crouched down, but i no other place to put them because i lost my bag a while ago, probably nabbed by a walker that was wandering around and i didn't notice.

a duck waddled by my feet slowly, something in its mouth. "whatcha got?" i whispered, the duck looking me straight in the eye before dropping the item on the dewed grass.

i picked it up slowly, inspecting it. i realized after a solid 15 seconds of looking at it that it wasn't anything interesting — just a piece of overly rusted metal.

i shoved it in my back pocket before getting up from my grass mound i had made, and set off to wherever i found solace in for the time being.

a duck quacked behind me loudly, but i ignored it before i heard the crunching of flesh. i turned around hesitantly, a sob slipping between my lips as i saw multiple ducks being torn apart piece by piece — blood spurting everywhere.

i turned around before the walkers could notice i was still there, using all of my strength to climb up one of those tall, darkened trees until they disappeared.

EVEN AFTER SOME time, i was still stuck in that damn tree. why did i even fucking choose to go up here? i knew they wouldnt leave until the sun rose — chasing after it idiotically.

i think i started to doze off before i heard a gunshot ring through my ears — watching the walkers being shot from probably about two or three spots.

i sat up after they all dropped to the ground, my feet swung over the trunk. i guess the people that killed them hadn't realized my presence.

"who are you?" an older man had shouted out, i guess he didn't realize i was a damn kid but, better safe than sorry.

i called out my name before all three of them seemed to relax, the same man who yelled at me had beckoned me to come down.

"you all look rough," i said, crinkling my lip backwards for a second. i never really had a filter — but that didnt seem to affect any of them.

"yeah — we probably do," the woman said. her voice was nice, she sounded kind. well, some people are straight up horrible and they sound sweet as a damn peach tree.

"i'm michonne," the woman said, seeming to grin like she couldnt do anything but.

"i'm carl!" the young boy introduced himself enthusiastically, smiling. why did they all smile so damn big?

"rick," the older man husked out, not smiling. well, finally one with some sanity i guess.

after a few seconds of silence, carl handed me a piece of chocolate that was half melted. "do you like candy? i have more at the house —" he talked with a certain enthusiasm i couldnt reciprocate, especially after watching those ducks being torn apart.

rick interrupted him, "we can't show them the house! what if they have people?" rick whispered, but i heard every word.

"i lost my people 'bout a week ago. mainly just sticking to this neighborhood for now," i spoke up. i didn't want these damn country people to conspire about me.

"dad, let them come to the house!" carl pleaded, "they seem nice, and its already like nighttime now."

rick was in thought for a moment, putting his hand on his chin as his gun slacked in the holster.

"yeah — c'mon. it's gettin' late, kid."

a/n: this sucks so bad but i'm making this a series to preoccupy myself LMAO

#connorsblog #the walking dead #twd #carl grimes #carl grimes x reader #carl grimes x gn!reader #season 4 carl grimes #michonne grimes #rick grimes #michonne x rick

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puddle-nerd · 10 months

Text

You’ll Do

Summary: You’re lucky you survived the crash but after you crawled to safety, well, the phrase was out of the pot and into the fire, right?

(Recombinant Jake Sully/Human Reader)

Story Tags: No Use of Y/N, Pre Way of Water, Slight Mention of Gore, Restraints, Implied/Referenced Character Death, Neytiri Died, I’m Sorry, Manhandling, Verbal Degradation, Knife Kink, Mention of Non-Lethal Self-Harm, Mention of Blood, Panties Uses as a Gag, Extremely Dubious Consent, R4p3/Non-Consensual, Interspecies Sex, Na’vi Biology (Avatar – Cameron), Na’vi Language (Avatar – Cameron), Vaginal Sex, Size Difference, Daddy Kink, Belly Bulge, Jake Sully Definitely Babbles During Sex, Creampie

So, this story was requested by @jakesullywhore, happy early birthday, baby girl 😘😘😘, on Tumblr back during Luna’s Kinktober Challenge (and she’s been wonderfully patient with me, I’m so, so, so sorry it took so long) and then it turned out… uh… quite a bit longer than I was originally expecting (insert sheepish shuffling here) in amongst several things happening all at once IRL so if you want to skip to the smut, and you’re over the age of eighteen, scroll down to the

*.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.* Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene *.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.*

Na’vi Translation: Hì’i — small, little (size) Mawey – calm Olo’eyktan — clan leader (generally gender-neutral) Sevin — pretty (mainly for female(s)) Tawtute — human | Sky Person Toruk Makto — rider of last shadow | currently, Jake Sully

AO3 Link

You looked up as your supervisor groaned in protest as the supply train rumbled down the freshly built tracks, rocking with its momentum slowly but surely back and forth. Back and forth. Back and forth. Your gaze didn’t falter from him as he closed his eyes, trying to center himself so he didn’t vomit while his motion sickness made itself known. “Ya good, sir?” you asked over the hum of the engine and the sound of the wheels turning, your words making your mask fog up briefly. The compartment was atmospherically converted to oxygen but with the increase of raids by the one known as Toruk Makto and his Na’vi followers, it was better to be safe and have your mask on, just in case. “You’re really pale,” you added.

Actually, he looked kinda green and you were beginning to think he was going to puke any second now.

Your supervisor looked up at you from where he sat across the way and gave a weak smile from behind the plexiglass of his mask, sweat beading up visibly upon his forehead. You’d think he’d have been used to the way a train rocked, having claimed to be from New York back on Earth, but who were you to judge? You all had come out here for a chance at a better life and there really wasn’t anything back on your home planet for you, personally, so when they opened up opportunities for grunt work (i.e. luckily you were a high value information system tech), they let you grab a space on the next flight out to Pandora. Only to find yourself in a middle of a war zone and having to take care of people who hadn’t been informed of what they were getting into. You hadn’t really known either, but that was beside the point. You reached beneath your seat and leaned forward to hand him a vomit sack. Suddenly, the illumination turned a reddish hue from a warm white, a skreiching alarm blaring over the speakers, a voice shouting, “Missiles inbound! Port side! Brace for impact! Brace f–”

Then the world went topsy turvy as the train de-railed.

What happened next came to you in spurts. The screech of metal on metal. The blur of the red warning lights amongst the darkness of the cabin with the world turning itself upon its head mimicking a high-speed roller-coaster back on Earth. The pain of smacking your masked face into the cushion of your full-body harness. The reek of liquid iron and the stench of something burning, stinging your nose. The sound of high-pitched screams ripped from several throats. The taste of copper upon your tongue. Pain radiating throughout your body from the top of your head to the tips of your booted toes.

Then nothing.

No sight, no sound, no smell, no touch, no taste…

Was it seconds later when you slowly regained consciousness?

Minutes?

Hours?

Your skull felt heavy and full of cotton as you very slowly lifted your chin, your eyelids blinking slowly as you took in the scene now, acutely aware of the ringing in your ears muffling everything else out. Shock rippled through you, icy and paralyzing, as you stared uncomprehendingly at the wreckage that had once been the train car you had been sitting in. Were still sitting in. Were you sitting? Your head ached.

Fear gripped you, your stomach turning as you surveyed the shattered glass, the debris of metal, splashes of dark liquid that smelled like the sharp tang of fuel and blood, and chunks of unidentifiable meat. You blinked slowly but the throbbing in your head refused to comprehend what you were gazing at – or maybe it was the shock of it all – and so you looked down at your own body. The harness was pulled tight around your chest and hips and your leg looked like it was bent at a funny angle for a moment, until you realized… it wasn’t your leg. Your hands trembled with a surge of adrenaline as you struggled to press the release clasps. Once you managed to liberate yourself from the strangling body-belt, you fell forward and stumbled to your feet, wobbling forward over questionable piles of… things you refused to look too closely at to get towards where you could see the light of day peeking out from where the door had crumpled in like tin, your limbs feeling like they were weighed down with lead blocks but you managed to slide yourself out, your gaze hazy and your mind slow as a turtle.

Pieces of shattered glass twinkled menacingly from the smoldering dirt in the sunlight amongst pieces of metal that should have been on the train.

Something huge suddenly swooped over your head and you lurched to the side as you saw a couple of colorful Mountain Banshees for the first time ever. You stared at them as they landed further down the wreckage and then noticed several very large bodies crawling over the train and the upturned earth.

You blinked and struggled to focus as you saw one of them, huge and blue, turn towards you, painted with black and green paint stripes all over his face and body beneath his battle band and very human-style tactical vest. You watched him incline his head before his lips drew back and he hissed in your direction and a new wave of adrenaline flooded your body.

You were going to die.

You didn’t think.

You just turned and ran.

You weren’t fast enough, though, and a sharp pain to the back of your head had you blacking out.

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

You could hear them moving around you as you took stock of your situation, your eyes currently shut as you regained your other senses. There were at least two beings hissing at each other in a foreign language you recognized as the Na’vi tongue that you had no hope of understanding. The air smelled stale and recycled while you could taste a touch of iron on the back of your tongue. Your wrists were tied to the unforgiving metal table you were laying on, the cold seeped into your skin.

Your bare skin.

You sucked in a sharp breath at the realization that you were stripped almost fully naked and your eyes shot open. You tried to sit up only to jerk backwards, your wrists pulling tightly from where they were secured above your head. Your ankles were restrained as well.

“Oh, good, the sevin hì’itawtute is awake.”

You twitched, shrinking in on yourself as far as you could when you laid your gaze on two big blue striped beings watching you with interested golden eyes.

One was more serious, more intense, with his beaded braids hanging about his rounded cheeks and bordering his red ornate necklace. His broad shoulders, built chest, and thick arms looked more human-like except for the generous smattering of bioluminescent freckles adorning his striped sapphire skin. His torso tapered down into a slim waist, a leather band encircling just beneath his pecs. A light purple loincloth hung from a thin band over the front of his pelvis, a dagger longer than your forearm gracing his left hip. The other Na’vi was smirking much more mischievously at you, his heated golden eyes scanning your body with a hunger that made you shiver. His own braids, unadorned except for two hanging in front, were more towards the top of his head, the right side of his skull shaved. The second male was also so much leaner and gangly than the first, all long limbs with an equally lengthy torso and slutty, little waist though he was easily a couple of inches taller with less freckles that you could see. His dagger, hanging from his left lip, was a littler shorter as well above his simple green loincloth. They were both quite handsome in their unique ways.

“Go get Dad,” the broader male hissed in English.

You blinked.

Brothers?

The leaner male rolled his eyes with a sigh and turned on his heel and you felt your eyes widen as a blush stained your cheeks seeing that his loincloth left his firm backside on display. You glanced away only to see the remaining male raise a brow at you with a knowing look in his golden gaze. You flushed further and looked away, turning you eyes up towards the restraints holding your arms and then down to your ankles allowing you to see you still wore your sports bra and your thin, cotton panties.

The whoosh of the door opening again drew your attention and you choked.

While the two males were handsome, this third Na’vi – their father – made them pale in comparison. His long black hair was styled into thick, unadorned dreads and pushed back from his black and green streaked face. A woven band crossed over his forehead with something shimmering over his burning golden eyes was adorned with small, sharp bones that were probably as long as your hand from base to the tip of your middle finger. A wide, flat nose tipped in pink flared as he scented you, his thin lips pressing together. A comm unit acted as a choker as it settled at the base of his throat, just above a second necklace with five small stones. His shoulders were wide beneath his tactical vest, his chest was… beefy to say the least, and his biceps were near double the size of your head. His built torso tapered down into a trim waist cushioned lightly with an ever so slight, soft and inviting plushness, his brown loincloth embroidered with specialty woven knots around the hem and over the belt clinging to his hips. From mid-thigh to just above his ankles, dark brown leggings clung to his strong legs in a most sinful way that had you swallowing around a growing lump in your throat.

“Out,” the adult male hissed, his gaze not leaving you. He added something in the Na’vi language you had no hope of understanding.

The serious teen male nodded quietly and grabbed his brother by the back of the neck, pulling the mischievous-looking one roughly out of the… you supposed it was originally a shack laboratory that had been retrofitted to become your jailcell, hence why you could breathe without your mask.

You swallowed, watching the adult Na’vi male look over your nearly naked form once more.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked, reaching down and unbuckling his tactical vest slowly, revealing a battle band in red and brown nestled just under his thick pectoral muscles, tossing the vest over to the side once he was freed. You shook your head because you weren’t sure. “You probably have heard of me. I’m known as Toruk Makto, more commonly called Jake Sully.”

You felt the blood drain from your face.

This was THE Jake Sully?

Oh, fuck… No wonder General Ardmore was determined to have LOTS of man and firepower because every inch of this Na’vi gave of vibes that screamed ‘lethal’.

You swallowed again and nodded, letting him know you now knew who he was. Your eyes flicked over every single inch of him once more and you shivered again at seeing that his whole body was defined muscle that human men wished they could have. And you weren’t entirely sure if it was because of the cold of the table, the chill of the air, or the fact that he was seriously fucking hot but your whole body trembled. Not, that that meant anything. God, you hoped his ability to smell things was seriously overstated. “I’m telling you this so that you understand what’s about to happen to you.”

You wetted your lips with your tongue and whispered hoarsely, “You’re going to torture me for information?”

Golden eyes – darkened with rage – flicked your way and a slow smirk that promised things pulled at his thin lips, revealing sharp fangs that had your heart doubling in speed. He replied, “Something like that.” He removed the leather strap from around his middle and tossed it over to where the vest was now. “I know it’s not entirely your fault, you’re just a drop in the bucket of problems known as the human race trying to destroy Pandora,” he removed his headpiece and added it to the growing pile, “but I need to know who’s in charge and what your superiors are planning.” His tomahawk from the small of his back was the fourth thing he removed from his body, though this he placed on the table by your hip, chuckling meanly when you attempted to shift away from the sharp edges of the weapon.

“I’m just a lowly IT,” you admitted, fear making you jittery upon the table. “General Ardmore doesn’t even know my name.”

Jake leered at you nastily, unsheathing his front dagger and slamming it down by your head with a startling SLAM. You recoiled sharply, twisting your head away from him and squeezing your eyes shut as your heart beat vibrated within your chest. “That’s alright,” Jake hissed, bending down and breathing hotly into your ear. “I’m sure I can make use of you… somehow.” You trembled as he pulled back and circled your body on the table. “You know, up until about a year ago, I was happy,” he told you conversationally, trailing his callus roughened fingers over the softness of your body, causing you to flinch again and tremble. “Y’know, I was the Olo’eyktan, wha’chu call the clan leader.” He pinched at your fleshy hip, the one on the other side from where he had left his weapon, chuckling as you baulked away from his touch. “I was respected by The People,” he continued, moving towards your feet and you hoped to god he wouldn’t tickle your soles, “all throughout the vast jungles of Pandora. I had a wife and four beautiful children. Had.”

Oh… shit…

You met his gaze and now understood the fury in his golden depths.

Jake told you, voice flat and ice cold, “My wife, my mate, my better half, my Neytiri te Tskaha Mo’at’ite died today because all of you stupid humans had to come the fuck back here where you weren’t wanted.”

You wanted to tell him that it wasn’t your fault. You hadn’t killed her. You hadn’t killed anyone. But you could see the absolute wrath and the soul-shattering hatered burning deeply from within the golden depths of his eyes. You understood from just looking at him that he wouldn’t really listen to any of your words or, even if he did hear what you said to him, he wouldn’t actually care about them. Either way, he was about to take it out on you in one way or another.

“So… what do you have to say about that?” Jake demanded.

You gulped and murmured, “I’m sorry for your loss.”

Jake’s ears flicked back and he bared his teeth, shaking his head as his tail – he had a fucking tail! – lashed back and forth in agitation. “Y-you’re sorry? You’re sorry?! How’s that – how is that going to bring back my wife!?”

“It’s not! It’s – it’s not,” you yelped, flinching away from the fists he pounded down onto the metal table between your secured ankles as best you could, though it wasn’t much. You stuttered, tripping over your words, “But I’m sorry! I’m sorry, Sully! I – I swear, I swear, I swear I had n-nothing to do with it! I – I’ve never killed any – anyone, I swear. I’m just a, uh, just a computer jockey!”

His nose flared as he scented you again and a wide, dark smirk adorned his features as a switch seemed to flip and an idea came to him.

.·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·. Beginning of 18+ / NSFW Scene .·:·.✧ ✦ ✧.·:·.

“Well, if you’re not high enough up the chain and have no useful information to give me, guess I’m gonna have to find a different use for ya,” Jake announced and reached down. The Na’vi male pressed a lever on the table and the table flipped nearly vertical to about a 75-degree angle, causing you to yelp in surprise as you were suddenly jerked upright, the tomahawk and the dagger sliding – luckily – harmlessly down to hit the floor with a loud double ‘CLANG’. He chuckled meanly down at you, pressing something else to lock you into place.

You gulped, begging to know as your heart pounded rapidly in your chest, “What are you going to do to me?”

The painted male just smirked, flashing his fangs.

Kneeling down between your legs, your whole body shivered of the sight of Jake exchanging your ankle restraints for his large hands, his grip strong and unyielding giving you no chance to kick him in his stupidly handsome face. You felt your belly twist itself into knots as a warm bubble of dread – yes, it was definitely dread and nothing else – began to build inside of you as an idea of how he was going to “make use of you” formed in the back of your mind.

Jake manipulated your legs apart and leaned in, pressing his flat, pink nose against the front of your panties, flaring as he sucked in a deep breath with a chuckle. “Well, …look at that. You’re liking this, little girl,” Jake hummed, rubbing his nose over the material separating him from your femininity. “If I strip you, how wet will I find you, you stupid fucking slut?” You could hear the grin in his voice as he added, “Guess I’ll find out in a second. Don’t move.” Letting go of one of your legs after placing it over his shoulder and nipping at it in warning to not kick him or anything, he grabbed his dagger from the floor and brought it up to your crotch. You whimpered, trying not to squirm as the sharp edge of his weapon was drawn carefully up the silken skin of your inner thighs, leaving little red welts but not actually splitting the skin, getting closer and closer to your cunt. You recoiled slightly. “Don’t. Fucking. Move,” Jake reiterated with a rumbling growl, ears and tail both flicking in irritation.

“Please don’t hurt me,” you whimpered, flinching when he tucked the sharp edge under the hem of your panties and tore it beyond repair. “Please…”

Jake smirked as he cut away your panties completely, muttering up towards you, “You’re gonna be saying that for a different reason in a little bit, little girl.” You froze, watching as he tossed the scraps of fabric away and raised his knife one more time, lifting it to the material of your sports bra and hooking it beneath the front hem. The material gave away just as easily as your panties had, ripping like paper up the middle, revealing your tits to his gaze before methodically cutting the shoulder straps of what used to be your chest covering. “Huh, you are actually pretty, aren’cha?” Jake muttered, more to himself than to you as he tossed the now useless fabric away and set his dagger back down onto the ground. His gaze drifted down to your pussy and he smirked. “Oh yeah, you are such a dirty little slut, aren’t ya?” Jake chuckled, finally placing your other leg over his shoulder and inspecting you. “Gonna be a tight fit but now… I can smell you even better, all sweet and musky. Wonder if you taste just as sweet?”

He leaned forward, cupping your upper thighs with his blue hands, and pressed his nose against your center, breathing deep.

“Oh fuck,” you whined, cringing as much as you could away from his touch. “Oh, please don’t do this. I – I don’t want this, Sully. Please.”

You didn’t know who you were trying to convince more.

Jake or yourself.

He ignored your words and opened his mouth, sticking out his tongue and sliding it up the seam of your cunt from the bottom to your clit. You yelped, jerking away from him again at the feel of what you might describe as sandpaper touched your most intimate of parts. It wasn’t… unpleasant… but it was, definitely, strange. He tightened his grip on your legs and did it again, collecting your wetness upon his tongue. And then again. And again. You chewed on your lower lip, trying not to make any further noises or to move, lest he got angry or thinking you were enjoying this.

‘You weren’t enjoying this. You weren’t. You weren’t. You weren’t,’ you chanted to yourself.

“You can try to be quiet all you want, but I’ll get’cha to sing,” the Na’vi male told you confidently, smirk firmly in place on his azure skin. “Singing like an ol’ opera singer.” With that, he leaned in and began his attack on your pussy, dipping his tongue inside your cunt and rubbing his nose against your clit, determination pouring off of him to make you enjoy yourself, whether you liked it or not. The control this man had over his tongue made you bloody your lower lip from biting down so hard on it, just as equally resolute to not give in. No matter how good it felt. But Jake was a man on a mission, practically shoving his face against your pussy and feasting like you were going to be his last meal.

You felt the pleasure undeniably building, a choked whine building in the back of your throat.

Jake lifted his gaze and pulled back, seeing the blood trickling down your chin from where your teeth had dug too deeply. “Ah, fuck, don’t do that,” he grumbled and looked around swiftly. Spotting the remains of your bra and underwear, he grabbed your ex-chest covering and balled it up, wiping away the red liquid from your skin roughly, ignoring your mewl of pain. Now that your underwear was even more ruined, he tossed the sports bra back down and grabbed your panties, balling them up and shoving them into your mouth. “There now, no biting yourself while I enjoy my snack, you ungrateful brat,” he snarked picking up right where he left off and devouring your cunt like he was starving, humming as he dug his tongue deeper into your passage than you ever got with your own fingers. And his tongue was thick enough to almost resemble the girth of the silicon dildo you’d smuggled in the luggage you’d been allowed to bring with you from Earth.

You could no longer hold back the whimpers, your makeshift gag muffling your noise only somewhat.

“Yeah, that’s it, you needy little whore,” Jake chuckled against your clit before lapping at it greedily. “Let those noises out. Let me know what a filthy little slut you are for the first male Na’vi that gives you attention.” He laughed a little more to himself and then leaned in sucking on your hard nub as he slipped two broad fingers into your wet heat, curling them just so that had your eyes crossing as you jerked against your restraints and dug your heels into his shoulders while also trying to rut your hips up into his mouth and hand. “That’s it, bitch. I can feel you tightening. You’re getting close, aren’cha? Gonna cum with your enemy finger fucking you like a dirty, little slut?” Your inner walls clenched greedily around his digits and then he found a spot deep inside of you.

Your climax took you by surprise, running you over like a bus or a train…

‘Oh, too soon,’ you thought just before the euphoria overtook your senses.

You jerked in your restraints, screaming through the gag as you unraveled, your whole-body trembling with bliss.

“Fuck, yeah, look at you,” Jake sneered as he sat back on his heels, still curling his fingers inside of you as he rubbed circles over your clit to draw out your orgasm. “What a fucking little whore. Look how much you came for me.”

You sagged in your restraints, panting heavily and continuing to tremble, eyes widening when you saw how much his loincloth had tented.

The Na’vi male pushed himself to his feet and began to circle you, casually licking his fingers and palm clean of your slick while his tail flicked behind his toned, bare backside. You looked up at him as he came back around and stood in front of you, gazing at you expectantly but your throat didn’t want to work, didn’t want to form words. Especially with that monster of his pressing against the inside of his loincloth. So, you didn’t bother to try. Instead, Jake spoke up for you. “Got nothing to say?” the Na’vi demanded. You breathed out heavily through your nose and shook your head slowly. He snorted and lowered his gaze to watch the remnants of your orgasm trickling down your leg. He gripped himself, muttering, “You do taste as sweet as you smell, pretty, little slut. Can’t wait to feel you wrapped around me.”

In any other situation, you might have been flattered.

Jake moved forward and towered over you, your head barely coming up to his sternum as you hung from the upright table. He smirked and reached down to untie his loincloth. “Think it’s gonna fit in your tight, little pussy, slut? You were squeezing my fingers all nice and snug,” he commented, letting the cloth drop, “I’m wondering if I’m gonna fit inside of you.” You whined, seeing the thick human-like cock spring upwards, firm and full. Jake’s dark blue shaft was decorated with pretty stripes of a lighter shade and bioluminescent white freckles scattered amongst ridges and nubs all over the length of him. What made you clench though, besides the sheer size of him, was that his light blue foreskin was pulling back from the pink tip of his cock to reveal that his slit was beginning to bead with pearlescent precum tinged silvery blue.

“Oh, fuck…” you whimpered, quietly through your makeshift gag, no longer able to deny you were enjoying this.

Whether you liked it or not.

The Na’vi male chuckled and stroked himself a couple of times. “Yeah, thought you’d like this,” he leered down at you with a smirk. Letting himself go, his cock bobbed but continued sticking straight out from his pelvis. Jake stepped closer and grabbed your wet thighs, lifting you up and settling himself between your legs, his shaft hot and hard against the seam of your center so you could feel the texture only a Na’vi penis had; you whimpered, trembling in his grasp, pleasure skittering through your nerve endings. “I can feel how slick you are, you filthy little whore,” Jake commented, grunting as he rutted against you, coating himself in your natural lubricant. “Getting me all nice and wet. Gonna have to go slow, though. Don’t want to tear you.” You whimpered as he continued to lift your hips up and back, dragging your dripping cunt up the length of his cock, teasing you with his firm shaft but not yet putting it in.

You bit down on your gag and jerked in his grip, seeking more stimulation.

“Look at you, you needy little thing,” Jake chuckled, watching you with a derisive jeer. “Yeah, you need it, don’cha? Okay, here we go, then.” Carefully, Jake took his shaft and lined it up with your entrance, slowly easing his thick mushroom head into your channel. You whined as he began to push himself further inside, the stretch burning your inner muscles slightly and forcing all of the air out of your lungs. “Mawey, baby. Mawey. Daddy’s got’chu.” The Na’vi male adjusted your thighs around his lean waist and reached down between you, circling your clit as he continued sinking himself further into you, the inescapable pressure and the incredible feeling of absolute fullness making you let out a whine through the fabric in your mouth. Your inner walls keep tightening and loosening, as if your center didn’t know whether to allow Jake’s girth further inside or to try to push him back out of your body. “Fuck, you’re so tight,” Jake groaned through gritted teeth. “Le’me in, little girl. It’ll feel so good. I promise.”

You whined, his thumb still circling your clit as he finally, finally bottomed out.

Jake couldn’t quite fit his entire cock into your pussy, the tip of him pressed against your cervix in a way you weren’t entirely sure was painful or pleasurable. Either way, you felt so utterly stuffed you could barely breathe, breaths shuddering in and out of your nose in short bursts. The hand gripping your thigh was definitely going to leave bruises later as he reveled in the feel of your center stretched around him to your utter limit, his free hand still rubbing circles over your hard, little bud.

“Fuck, baby,” the Na’vi male groaned, shifting his hips to test how you felt now that you had started to adjust to his intrusion. “Tightest pussy Daddy’s ever had. Fuuuck, yer strangling my cock.” The noise that escaped your throat barely sounded human in pitch, more like it was an unintelligible fusion of a whine and a groan, muffled by the panties still in your mouth. He chuckled and added, “Pretty sure you were made for this. Huh? You were made to be my little cock slut, baby, right? Daddy’s little whore.” You whimpered and nodded slowly, tears leaking from the corners of your eyes as the pleasure threatened to overwhelm you again. “Yeah, I thought so.” Then he sucked in a sharp breath and whistled. “Fuck, yeah, I can see myself in your belly.”

You looked down to see your stomach slightly distended to accommodate the total girth of his length and you released a wail.

“Isn’t that a sight,” Jake laughed quietly, hissings as you subsequently clenched internally. “Okay, okay, ya greedy little thing. Daddy’s gonna start moving now, little girl. Tell me if it hurts.” You made a muffled noise of complaint and tried to spit out the panties still forcing your jaw wide. “Ah, forgot about that,” the Na’vi male chuckled to himself and finally pulled the cloth out of your mouth, tossing them off to the side. “That better, little girl?”

“Yes,” you moaned quietly, moving your jaw to relieve the slight ache. “Oh, fuck, Sully. Feel so full.”

The male chuckled, “Yeah. Bet you do.”

Jake pulled out of your center a little before rolling his hips slowly back inside of you, glancing between your face and your belly bulge as you whined, feeling the friction of his textured shaft to cause the most exquisite of pleasure to tease your nerve endings, his heavy testicles bouncing off of your taint with each move of his hips. He slowly began to increase his pace, the sound of his thrusts squelching wetly through the air as he pounded his length deeply within you with the power and the consistency of a machine, causing that coil to tighten once more inside of you.

Without the gag hindering you now, you whined aloud, “Huh, fuck. Oh god.”

“Yeah, my little slut likes this,” Jake snarled, quickening his tempo further and growling low in his throat as your center tightened further around him. “Fuck, little girl, gonna cum for Daddy like a good whore? Gonna gush all over me when you climax? Bet you will, you greedy little cock slut. I want to see how your belly bulges further when I finish deep inside of you.” You whined nonsensically as his thrusts got sloppy as he sped up even further, the head of his cock pressing a spot that made your toes start to curl. “Oh, fuck, baby. I can feel you getting close. You’re even tighter around me. You ready, baby? Daddy’s gonna fill you up.”

You wanted to feel the pleasure but you didn’t want it.

Not like this at least.

The Na’vi male’s breathing increased as his rhythm stuttered further, slamming wetly into your depths even more loudly, his balls now smacking against your taint with each shove of his cock, pushing inside of your pussy even deeper until he shoved himself in firmly one last time, burying himself in to the hilt and –

“Ohhh, fuck, fuck, fuuuck, yeah baby! Cumming. Cumming!”

If your first orgasm had been like getting hit by a bus, your second one was more like getting swept away by a tsunami, the pleasure-pain of Jake’s cock being wedged just beneath your cervix and pressing in from behind your bellybutton caused you to release a nonsensical throat-aching scream as well as you beginning to weep in humiliation from the heat overtaking your senses making you feel like you had peed yourself as the lush flow of your and Jake’s combined finish both bulged your stomach and dribbled steadily down your buttocks while every muscle within you spasmed almost violently and your toes curled painfully.

“Fuck, my little slut is a gusher,” Jake chuckled, groaning as he trembled in pleasure. “Yeah, I think I’m gonna keep you. You’ll do just nicely.”

𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸 · ─────── · 𖥸

Originally Posted: 24 November 2023 Word Count: 5,500

#avatar #avatar smut #atwow #jake sully #jake sully smut #jake sully x reader #jake sully x human!reader #graphic violence

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dragon-teaparty · 1 year

Text

Safe and Sound - Leon Kennedy x reader

•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°•°

hai pretty people! am back but with a leon story :3

i will try to write as much as i can here

also this story is kinda long sorry XD

cws: mention of ptsd, a bit of gore

other tags: gn reader, re2 leon cuz he's a cutie<3 based on the song safe & sound from taylor swift

summary: leon wakes up from a nightmare and you are there to comfort him

———

based off of this cover :3

youtube

"No!"

His throat felt stripped of its tissue as he screamed out but there was barely a sound.

Leon stood in the ruined police department. He couldn't move no matter how hard he tried, he was stuck in place.

He watched as his coworker was torn apart and eaten alive. He wanted to run over and help his coworker, he wanted to pull out his gun and blow that zombies brains across the tile floor.

But he couldn't. He could only watch, tears streaming down his face. Leon was angry, he was desperate as he tried to move even an inch but it was as if every bone in his body was broken, crippling him.

The rookie cops screams turned into sobs, coming out at as short heaves. It was all he could do.

The undead crouched at the other officer's body slowly stood up and turned to Leon. Its skin was grey and rotting off of the bone, the eyes a milky blue color. It held a chunk of flesh in its mouth before choking it down like some sort of bird. It began to limp towards him.

Leon began to panic. He felt like he couldn't breathe as his heartbeat thumped hard against his chest.

"Move! Move! Move!" The thought rattled in his head as the zombie approached, but any effort was futile.

Before Leon could even blink, the rotting reanimated corpse lunged at him.

—

Leon jolted up in bed in a cold sweat. He took a moment to look around and take a few deep breaths.

He was safe, he was in his apartment. He tried to control his breathing as he wiped sweat and tears from his face.

He then sat on the edge of his bed with his head in his hands. He wasn't sure how much more of these nightmares he could take... They seemed to get worse each night.

It suddenly hit him that his close friend was downstairs on the couch. They were drinking and his friend got a little too drunk to drive home safely so he allowed them to stay here.

Leon stood up and quietly crept downstairs. He spotted your sleeping form on the couch, slowly moving up and down as you breathed.

"Don't be afraid to wake me up if you have another nightmare." Y/n's voice echoed in his head. It wasn't the first time y/n had comforted Leon through nightmares or panic attacks. Leon always felt bad about it but you were more than happy to help him and calm him down.

The young man stopped and contemplated for a moment. He didn't want to wake you up but, at the same time, he really needed you right now.

With a deep breath, Leon walked over to the couch and gently shook your shoulder. "Y/n..."

Slowly but surely, you stirred awake and your sleepiness faded as you saw Leon before you.

"Hey, Lee," you said, your voice a little raspy from sleep. "Another nightmare?"

Leon nodded and sighed. "I'm sorry, I really don't want to be alone right now."

You shook your head and opened your arms. Leon immediately crawled on the couch and buried his face into your chest.

"I told you to never apologize." you said as you wrapped your arms around your friend. "You've done absolutely nothing wrong."

Leon relaxed in your arms. He already felt so much better being here with you.

You were used to Leon coming to you about his nightmares and flashbacks but it wasn't very often that you actually spent the night at his apartment. Usually, if you weren't with him, he would call you and vent to you about his bad dreams.

"Y/n?" Leon spoke up, his voice slightly muffled as his head rested on your chest.

"Mhm?" You hummed in response.

Leon hugged you just a little tighter. "Can you sing that song? Y'know, the one you sing to me when I call you?"

You smiled sweetly. "Of course." You replied.

You and Leon laid down on the couch. Leon's face nuzzled into your neck and your hand found its way to his hair.

After you knew that you both were comfortable, you began to sing softly.

"I remember tears running down your face when I said I'll never let you go..."

Your fingertips gently grazed Leon's scalp as you ran his hand through his hair.

"When all those shadows almost killed your light..."

This song was very special for both you and Leon. You had chosen this song because it perfectly described the way you felt about Leon and how much you cared about him.

"I remember you said, don't leave me here alone..."

Leon's muscles relaxed and he closed his eyes, admiring your soft voice.

"But all that's dead and gone tonight..."

Memories flashed through your mind as you sang. The song brought back memories of you and Leon. The way he'd melt in your embrace and the way he stopped crying when you sang to him.

"Just close your eyes, the sun is going down..."

The comfort you gave Leon was unbelievable to him. You were his person, his light. If it weren't for you, he'd be drowning himself in alcohol. Your touch alone was enough to help him calm down. He had to admit that he loves you, he really loves you but he didn't want to admit his more romantic feelings for you.

"You'll be alright, no one can hurt you now..."

You two weren't even dating but you might as well have been. It was normal for you two to hug and cuddle up next to each other. To tell the truth, you loved Leon, maybe more than you should've. Feeling the way he buries his face into the crook of your neck makes your heart flutter. You didn't admit your feelings in fear of ruining your friendship if he didn't feel the same.

"Come morning light, you and I'll be safe and sound..."

Leon was drifting off, all worries and fears from his nightmares slipping out of his mind. You smiled at this. It was usually at this point in the song that he'd begin to fall asleep. Your hand gently ran through his soft hair, lulling the young man even further into sleep.

"I love you." Leon mumbled quietly before he finally fell asleep in your arms.

You were surprised but it was a welcome one. You smiled and held Leon closer as a light blush crept onto your cheeks.

"I love you too."

#leon kennedy #leon s kennedy #leon scott kennedy #leon kennedy x reader #leonxreader #leon s kennedy x reader #y/n #leon kennedy x you #leon s kennedy x you #leon kennedy x y/n #self insert #x reader #resident evil x reader #resident evil x you #resident evil #resident evil 2 #resident evil 2 remake

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mara-xx217 · 1 year

Note

Good morning/afternoon/night! My internet is really bad at the moment so im not sure when this ask is gonna get through lol :,)

If I remember it correctly, your asks are open! So I decided to try my luck on sending one! (I've only downloaded Tumblr recently so im sorry if this goes badly :,) )

May I ask for a scenario or something like that with Pocketcat obsessing over a poor and desperate soul(aka reader lol) who is just trying to make their way through the Fear and Hunger dungeons/The festival of Termina (It's probably better if you choose lol)? Reader is just trying to go through another day without being attacked in their sleep and maybe smoking some Opium while that goddamn cat is just starting from a corner.

((Im not sure how asks work! Sorry if I made a mistake!!))

Omg yes this is perfectly fine! Everybody loves Pocketcat (me included) so I'm more than happy to answer this lol. Let's set this during the Festival, shall we? :)

You're doing great!

Warnings: Stalking, General Creep Behavior, Pocketcat Deserves His Own Warning, Drug Use

The atmosphere of Prehevil was a buzz with an invisible, cold heat. Your skin had started to tingle the moment you woke up from that terrible dream you had on the train and a throbbing headache that started as a minor annoyance has now turned into a full blown migraine that has you feeling like you've been brained by a lead pipe, a very real possibility given all the pissed off locals that have been attacking you unprompted and out of the blue as you've wandered the mostly deserted streets.

The last few blocks, you've begun to feel as though you were being watched... Every other step you take, you swear that you hear the echo of a footfall that is just barely out of sync of your own. You pause mid step and listen carefully.

...click...

Shit. You don't look over your shoulder, fearing what you might find following you. You shove your hands in your jacket pockets and suddenly pick up your pace, not quite running but not walking casually either. Your fucking head is killing you... You wanted nothing more than to take a hit from your pipe... but you needed to find somewhere relatively safe first. Continuing on, you round several more street corners. You don't stop until you no longer hear any footsteps mirroring your own. Slowing down, you strain your ears once again.

....

Silence. You shuffle to a stop. Your headache is nearly blinding and you sit on a pair of steps that lead into one of the many buildings in Prehevil. Fumbling with your bag, you fish out your smoking pipe, your eyes closed as they were throbbing and painfully dry. You crack an eye open and find a nearly empty matchbook, striking it alight and lighting the pipe that was still partially filled with opium. Extreme, but its all you have.

And your head-

It was sweet relief. The opium was strong and fast acting. Your headache numbed, as did your paranoia. Your heartbeat slowed and you felt yourself fall at ease. You kept your eyes closed, enjoying the brief moment of quiet. Has it been only a few hours of this? It almost felt like a lifetime... Your eyes open, blinking as they readjust to the light. And you find yourself startled as there was someone standing down the street opposite of where you sat.

The colour purple was a strange sight in this blood-soaked town... Not a drop of gore was on him, yet the bag at his feet was blood-smeared and breathing, you could tell even from where you sat. He was tall and well-dressed, strange all around and strangely making a point to avoid eye-contact with you. As you stared at him, suddenly sobering from the opium, he twitched his head and glanced in your direction. What the hell was he wearing...?

"Ah-! Oh, dear me! I didn't see you there at all!" His accent was strange and he seemed exasperated. Though he was wearing a mask, something that appeared to be cumbersome and inflexible, it had a lot of character and seemed to reflect it well through his eyes.

"My, my, how rude of me! I do apologize, this Festival has us all running about like mad, does it not?" You uneasily looked side to side.

Was... he talking to you?

"What... 'Festival'...?" He continued on.

"Say... perhaps I am mistaken but... do I know you? Maybe you get that a lot, you do have one of those faces, but I swear that you look..." The masked man turned to face you. He had one hand in his pocket, something that make you gravely nervous.

"...familiar?" You don't know why you answered him. Perhaps it was the awkwardness of this situation getting to you.

"Yes! Familiar. I feel as though I have met you once before, in lands and times different though under such similar circumstances..." He grew wistful, seeming to reflect on an old and touching memory. You frowned. There was something nagging at the back of your head....

"Pray tell, how has this Festival been treating you? Worse for wear? Perhaps you have had your fill and wish to turn in for the day?" You narrowed your eyes.

"I... What?" He continued.

"No matter, there is time left for you, though not much at all, I'm afraid. There is never enough time, is there? Or it certainly doesn't feel that way... Especially where the ones we love are concerned..." He turned his head so you couldn't see his masked face. The man brought his hand to his mouth and seemed to suddenly grow sheepish. The hand in his pocket began to twitch and you felt your stomach roll in apprehension.

"Do you have that special someone in your life? I did... once upon a time... Though it has been so many ages since I last saw them..." He turned to face you and he seemed larger and closer than he truly was. The masked man grew in height and seemed to lean in close to you, until you had your back flat against the stairs and you were cowering before him from across the street.

"Though... looking upon you has brought a wave of nostalgia over me! Truly, I must thank you for this, for I had missed them terribly..." There was a genuineness to his voice that was almost moving... for a split second, you felt your guard lower.

"I see..." Your shoulders dropped a little. A wave of emotion washed over you.

Relief

Gratitude

But in the warmness there was also,

Anticipation

Fear

Hatred

Deja vu seized your heart and froze you in place. Your temples began to throb as the colour drained from your face. The stranger had become familiar and known to you, though you didn't understand how or why. He seemed pleased with the shift in your demeanor.

"That's quite enough I think..." You furrowed your brows, confused.

"What-?"

"Yes, quite so!" You can tell that he was smiling under the mask.

"I don't understand-" He nodded to himself.

"That's quite alright, old sport! Give it some time, I think it will all become apparent, sooner than later." The man straightened up and you no longer felt crowded.

"W-What will? What- Who even are you-?!" Your question was waved off.

"Enough questions! Don't you think it's about time now?" Anxiety pulsed under your skin.

"Time? Time f-for what?"

"Time to wake up, of course! You've nearly overslept!" You're stunned. Confused and a little annoyed, you open your mouth to rebuke him, but he's suddenly in front of you and has a gloved hand clamped around your mouth. You can't move, you can't blink, you can't even scream in terror as a wave of nostalgia crashes over you.

"Hush, now... I've stolen you away from my Master for long enough... It's time for us to part ways for now, but we will meet again. It will be just like the good old days, just you wait!" You didn't know who this fucking freak was and you didn't care. You just wanted him to get the hell away from you already!

"Go on, then! Away with you!" His tone was cheery but he picked you off the stone stairs with his one hand with ease, until your legs were dangling limply in the air.

You were thrown down but instead of busting your head on the edge of sharp stairs you startled in a seated position. You hit your elbow against the cool train window and your head bounced off of it as you struggled to regain your senses.

It was... what?

It wasn't real... It was all just one big, terrible dream... You sighed in relief. In the moments that it took your heart to slow, you realized something.

The train wasn't moving and it was devoid of all passengers.

@prettycutebunny, @infinitewhore, @kennbb, @slutwithadegree, @dead-bxxxtch-walking, @space-arsonist, @pink-soft-shadow, @sinlessdesire, @hoemine, @memoryofheather

#fear and hunger #fear & hunger #fear & hunger termina #fear & hunger pocketcat #fear & hunger x reader #pocketcat x reader #and it was all a dream!!!!

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 1 year

Text

Bound by Blood: Reader & Sparda Bloodline (Platonic)

SUMMARY: It all started on that fateful day, the day everything went up in flames. You’ve been forced to walk a life you’d never imagined. All in the name of avenging your brothers; Dante and Vergil. Who, unannounced to you, are still very much alive and are wandering the endless wasteland called Hell; the endless wasteland you’d called “home” for over three decades.

EDIT AS OF 7/12/2023: I am re-writing this entire fic. I don't really like how it turned out plus all of the half-finished/patrial story bits I have in here are kind of not up to my standard. Please still give this a read, it took me a REALLY long time to finish this, but just know that this is going to be redone. Thanks for understanding, have a great day/night!! :)))

Requested by @loshpen! :)))

*Slams this down like a dictionary* HERE TAKE IT. THIS IS OVER 25,000 WORDS; HOLY SHIT-- *dies*

BEGINNING NOTES: ⚠️Please read these, they are important⚠️

➖➖➖ ⧳ It is EXTREMELY encouraged to read the “General Headcanons” before reading this story; it helps things make more sense. Otherwise, you get lost and/or confused. VERGIL IS WEARING HIS DEFAULT OUTFIT FROM DMC 5 NOT THE DEVIL HUNTER ONE; he does have V’s tattoos though. ⧲Universe typical violence: Blood, guts, gore, (mentioned) throwing up, bruising, broken bones, etc. ⧳Talk of the reader eating raw meat (idk if I need to warn about that or not, rather be safe than sorry) ⧲Talk about abuse/manipulation/torture from Argosax towards the reader; it is not super in-depth, however, it is mentioned and talked about the reader basically having Stockholm syndrome. ⧳Switches between 2nd and 3rd person; I tried to make it seamless but it is a little rough. ➖➖➖ ⧲ G/N Reader & Sparda family; the reader is the younger sibling to Dante and Vergil, making you Nero’s “Pibling” (which is the G/N term for aunt/uncle) ⧳The reader is a year younger than the twins; born in the fall. ⧲Little less ambiguous than I typically try to write. I needed to have something to work on for the reader’s personality and stuff, so sorry if it doesn’t line up with you per se--I tried lmao ➖➖➖ ⧲Sparda is a soft old man--just let me have this. ⧳Vergil has emotional outbursts because of what happened with V/Urizen. ⧲Dante’s amulet is silver and Vergil’s is bronze; I’m using DMC3 as canon colors, not DMC1. ⧳Since you are a part of the Sparda family, you are in the painting from the mantel. You’re placed front right--the observer’s right--next to Sparda. ⧲I know the reader wouldn’t get over things so quickly, but (again) just let me have this. ⧳MINOR SPOILER: The Sparda when you are younger is not “Force Edge” because the proper owner, who at the time was Sparda, has control of it. So when everything happens and you don’t have your sword, it goes into its dormant state, which it then has to be forced out of (or it would’ve had to reunite with you.). ➖➖➖ ⧲I don’t personally have a good relationship with my sibling; in fact, I don’t consider them to be my sibling. So, I don’t know how siblings interact. ⧳I also didn’t have much of a relationship with either of my parents until I was in high school (because I live in America where parents are worked to death and their kids never get to see them). ⧲I ALSO have the ‘tism so I don’t know how kids typically act. ➖➖➖ (I will remove this section once I get my Argo/Mundus H/Cs out) ⧳Argosax’s personality (or lack thereof) has been scrapped. I think them being a psychopath (in the medical sense) makes for a much better character. Argosax can easily convince others to follow their orders--opposite Mundus who does everything through force. ⧳Bolverk has been retconned to be Argo’s bodyguard/general (basically Argosax’s Nelo Angelo but willingly or Pre-woke Sparda). ⧲Argo’s stronger than Mundus, but Mundus’s army is more substantial than Argo’s.

THE ENDING IS NOT PROOFREAD, I JUST WANTED TO UPLOAD THIS (I’ll come back and fix it up later.)

STORY START:

“Shhhhh--” Eva weakly reached out for the crying child that was in the midwife’s arms, “It’s alright."

After a few minutes of her rocking the new child, the room fell completely silent. Despite how joyful Eva should feel, she couldn’t help but stare somberly at her newborn.

A quiet creak came from the door as a large platinum-haired devil entered. It was her husband and the child’s father, Sparda. His typically brash loud voice was beyond soft and gentle as he slowly shut the door behind him, “Eva?”

Her eyes flicked up to him before they returned down to their newest baby.

Sparda moved into the room, standing next to the bed with a dejected look on his brow, “Their… condition has not gotten any better I take it?”

Eva gave a small slow side-glance to her husband; giving him his answer.

A loud slam caught everyone’s attention. The door that Sparda had gently shut was now wide open; so much so, that the knob was digging into the wall behind it. In the frame of the door were the couple’s first children, Vergil and Dante. Before anyone responded to their sudden appearance, they bolted into the room.

Dante squealed in excitement, “See! I told you, Verge!” The two were intercepted by Sparda, who picked them both up by their shirt collars.

“Why are you out of bed? I thought I told you to stay in your room,” Sparda’s voice was sharp but still quiet, not wanting to upset Eva or wake the baby.

Vergil pouted, “But--”

“It is alright, Love,” Eva’s voice was soft as she gave a meek smile, “If they can behave then they may stay for a moment.” Although it pained her to admit it, she knew that this might be the only chance for the twins to see the baby alive.

Sparda hesitated before releasing the boys. As quickly and quietly as they could, they ran to the edges of the bed. Sparda waltzed over and held up Vergil while the midwife held Dante.

After a minute or two, Vergil spoke as he tilted his head in confusion, “Why does it look like that?”

“Vergil!” Sparda growled at his son.

Eva sighed and looked down to watch the sleeping newborn as it wiggled slightly, “They are unwell,” her voice cracked as she spoke.

Dante smiled, not understanding what she meant, “Well, when are they gonna be better? I want to play with them!”

Eva swallowed audibly and gave a pained smile, “Soon, hopefully…”

Days turned to weeks, weeks to months, and soon it had been a year since the child had been born. Despite all the odds, it continued to live. There were of course several days and nights spent watching with great concern, but the child always managed to pull through. Sparda had begun to equate it as the “runt” of the “litter” and referred to them as such. It wasn’t meant with ill intent, however, Eva wasn’t exactly fond of it, but the name wasn’t far off from the truth.

Unlike the twins, their third child’s development was closer to that of a human; both physically and mentally. Not a single glimpse of a sign of having any devilish heritage or urges had been seen. In stark contrast to the two older children who, at this age, were nearly burning down the house whenever they threw a tantrum or didn’t get their way. This child was rather amicable, putting up little to no fuss; never even throwing a tantrum to begin with. Which would reflect the way the child would deal with things later in life; the way you would deal with things later in life.

When you turned two, your “slow” development sparked a very important conversation between Eva and Sparda; how should they raise you? At this rate, you wouldn’t be able to start learning things until you were of the correct human age, unlike the twins who were only three and learning at a second-grade level.

You had also shown a severe, borderline unhealthy, attachment to Eva and were very afraid of Sparda. He hadn't done anything that would cause you to be so terrified. Admittedly, he was a little hurt that his child won't let him anywhere near them. The couple figured that perhaps it is because you seemed to be more “human-like” that it caused you to inherently fear devils and demons.

After many long discussions and some mild arguments, it was decided that you would be raised like a human. That you would attend human schools and human activities. To be treated as such just in general life around the house and town--which meant no training or lessons from Sparda. Once they laid out what they were going to do, the twins were informed of the decision; which was rather important, since the pair were already trying to get you to tussle or adventure with them.

Vergil and Dante were confused about their parents' choice; why were you going to be treated so differently? Sure, you weren’t exactly like them but you had the capability to play alongside them. This was dismissed by both of your parents, as they insisted that you weren’t like the twins--that this is how it has to be. However, when your parents weren’t looking; your brothers taught you what they could. Vergil taught you basic reading and math while Dante taught you more hands-on things, refining your motor skills.

When you turned six, the twins decided to teach you things that Sparda had taught them. Dante taught you more hand-to-hand based things while Vergil taught you about proper weapon usage. You did well, much better than the twins were expecting after what they heard. If your Father or Mother won’t teach you then they feel that it was their responsibility, as your older siblings, to do so.

One night after everyone was in bed, the silver-haired twins unintentionally eavesdropped on a conversation about your upcoming seventh birthday. Underneath their bedroom was a large library that Sparda often visited late at night, however, it seems that Eva decided to join him. Currently, they were lightly arguing about what they were going to give you.

You were already past the age that Sparda gave the twins the heirlooms from his side, which the bronze devil wasn't exactly thrilled about. Sparda continued to insist upon giving you a weapon because, “--even if you were to be raised human, you are still his kin; devils and demons alike will want, and try, to kill you.”

Eva, however, was well within her right to be concerned. You still weren’t showing any signs of demonic heritage and most of Sparda’s gear is too heavy for you to lift or use. Besides, "If something were to happen, Dante and Vergil will be there to protect you.” All she wanted was for you to be raised a normal human child which doesn’t include demonic weapons; especially the one that Sparda was talking about. Before the twins could hear the verdict of the conversation, they both fell fast asleep.

Time seemed to fly over the next few months and it was finally your birthday. Although none of you knew it, this would be the last of your birthdays that you spent with your entire family.

“Tag!” Dante’s index finger jabbed your shoulder as he pivoted around, sprinting through the leaves.

“Hey!!” You ran after him, stumbling a bit; however, you continued nipping at the red devil’s heels.

“Tch,” Vergil sat on the porch stoop. He looked up from his book, raising a sharp brow at the two of you, “How childish--!”

A wide toothy grin decorated your face as you poked his shoulder, “Tag! You’re it!” Then you took off, high-fiving Dante in the process.

He stared for a moment, deciding if he was going to participate; since it was your birthday, he decided to swallow his pride and play along. With a heavy sigh, Vergil shut his book with a loud thump and placed it inside the front door. A small happy smile unknowingly tugged at his lips as he shook his head, taking off after the two of you.

The three of you darted throughout the yard as Sparda watched from the window.

“Our Runt is keeping up well with the twins,” Sparda turned to his wife who had just finished placing dinner in the oven, “Perhaps we are wrong to assume--”

“Sparda,” Eva sighed, “The boys are probably holding back so they can play together.”

He opened his mouth but decided to keep it to himself. His lips turned to a thin line as he turned back to watch.

“You’re it,” Vergil’s voice was monotone as he tapped your shoulder.

You let out a surprised sputter, “How?!”

Both Dante and you stopped as you stared at the eldest sibling.

“What?” Vergil tilted his head to the side and folded his arms.

Dante smiled and laughed, “Since when can you do that?”

Vergil’s brow furrowed in confusion, “What?” In a cocky manner, he teleported to right in front of the two of you, leaning forwards, “Surprised?”

The two of you nodded before you reached out slowly and poked him, “Tag.”

Vergil’s eyes went wide, “Wha..?”

Dante busted out into loud laughter with tears springing to his eyes.

Vergil frowned in irritation and aggressively “tapped” Dante on the head, “Tag.”

The three of you resumed your scampering (and teleporting in Vergil’s case) around the yard, slipping and falling in the leaves several times. Despite what your parents thought, the twins never held back or handicapped themselves to play with you. They were just as rough and fast with you as they are with each other… Well, maybe not as rough but definitely as fast. The game finally ended when Dante fell face-first into a large muddy section of the lawn, taking an unintended mud bath.

The three of you came back inside. You all left your muddy dirty clothes and boots by the door and made your way to the kitchen. Dante ran in to give both your parents a hug but was promptly stopped by Eva sticking out her hand to stop him.

“Dante,” Eva let out a small laugh, “What happened to you?”

“I fell,” Dante gave her a wide goofy smile.

“You need to get washed up,” she shook her head and patted his mud-encrusted hair softly, “Definitely your Father’s child.”

Before Sparda could question his wife, she walked off with Dante. Then he turned his attention to his remaining children.

The two of you sat next to one another on the living room couch. Vergil had grabbed the book that he was reading outside earlier and had picked up where he left off. This wasn’t uncommon for Sparda’s eldest to immediately jump back into whatever literature he was reading before being interrupted. However, this time was different, this time he was reading aloud.

“ ‘Here alone I in books formd of metals/Have written the secrets of wisdom/The secrets of dark contemplation/By fightings and conflicts dire,/With terrible monsters Sin-bred:/Which the bosoms of all inhabit;/Seven deadly Sins of the soul.’.”

“Vergil?” Your voice was soft, not wanting to upset him by interrupting.

“Hm?” He watched you point to a drawing next to the poem.

“Who’s that?”

“The author’s rendition of what they think Urizen might look like. Urizen is the subject of this section of poems,” Vergil felt something on his shoulder and looked over. Only to find that you had leaned against his arm and were nodding at his answer.

The eldest continued through the collection of poems as you intently listened along; telling you the tale of Urizen.

“Vergil?”

“Hm?”

“Is Egypt a real place?”

Vergil laughed quietly, “Yes, it is quite far away. Maybe someday we can visit there together.”

“I’d like that,” you smiled, “We could read this again there, too!”

“Sure, if that is what you wish.”

You nodded vigorously, excited at the idea of traveling the world with your brothers--especially if you get to hear Vergil read more.

Vergil leaned his head atop yours and waited a moment before whispering, “Hey…”

“Hm?”

“I…” Vergil’s brow furrowed as he thought for a moment, he sighed, “I’m glad you are still alive.”

If you hadn't known about your odd illness as a baby, this comment would've seemed rather menacing. However, you were well aware of how sick you were and knew he was trying to be nice.

Your voice was loud and laced with an overflowing, almost sickly, amount of love, “I’m glad too!” You removed yourself from his shoulder and yanked his head down to yours, kissing him on the cheek, “I love you lots, Vergie.”

He stared at you for a moment before sheepishly looking away, “I love you too.”

The loud pitter-patter of running footsteps, made Vergil lightly push you away. Suddenly there was another sibling on your other side, jumping onto the couch with a bounce.

“What are you doin’?” Dante had his signature smile across his face.

“Nothing,” Vergil answered before you could.

“Aw, were you two waiting for me~~” Dante’s voice was laced with a knowing smugness.

“I was!” You chimed in, managing to beat Vergil to the punch.

Dante grabbed you and gave you an aggressive noogie.

“Dante,” Sparda folded his arms and raised his brow.

He stopped, “Sorry..!”

You grabbed him and did the same, ruffling up his just brushed and cleaned hair.

“I don’t know how you three still have so much energy,” Eva shook her head as she entered the room.

Vergil looked up from his book, confused about why he was grouped with you two.

“Now,” she gently placed two boxes on the coffee table, “Would you like to open your gifts?”

You looked up at her in confusion, releasing Dante from your grasp, “Gifts? … Oh! Yeah!” In all your fun, you had forgotten that it was your birthday.

Eva laughed softly before handing you the first box. It was heavy-ish and rectangular. The wrapping on it was crude and chaotic, with enough tape on it that it may as well have been wrapped in tape instead. In complete contrast to an intricately and well-tied ribbon surrounding the outside of it. A warm smile spread across your face, knowing immediately who this was from; Dante and Vergil.

The twins watched intently as you carefully undid the ribbon and the seventy layers of patchwork gift wrap. Your smile faded upon seeing what it was, but not in a bad way; no, rather, you were taken aback. It was a photo album.

You ran your fingers delicately across the cover which had a family photo of all five of you together. Underneath it, there was a small note neatly written in calligraphy, “ ‘Pretty joy!/Sweet joy, but two days old./Sweet Joy I call thee:/Thou dost smile,/I sing the while;/Sweet joy befall thee!’ Infant Joy; William Blake.”

A small bittersweet feeling tugged at your heart as you gingerly opened the scrapbook. Inside there were dozens upon dozens of photos, drawings, newspaper clippings, stickers, and other miscellaneous things. Most of them had dates or small snippets of information next to them, explaining why they were placed there.

Dante whispered to you as you flipped through the book, “You know, it was Verge’s idea to make this for ya--been workin’ on it since you were born,” his voice was playful and, yet, had a sense of pride to it. Of course, this was a teasing remark in an attempt to rile Vergil up, but you knew that deep down Dante was glad that he listened to his twin for once.

You tilted your head in curiosity, halfway through the book the pages became blank, “Why are these empty?”

Vergil huffed contently, “It is so you can fill out the rest as you grow up.”

With a small hum you turned to give him a wide close-eyed smile, “As we grow up,” you corrected him and looked back down at the gift, “Thank you both. I love it; almost as much as I love you! I'll cherish this forever.”

Eva and Sparda shared a small laugh at your enthusiasm over, what the twins’ would’ve considered, such a "boring" gift.

With overly cautious gentleness, you set the heavy book down on the coffee table in front of you. Eva then handed you the second, and last, box. It was a small square box with rounded edges. The wrapping on it was excellent and it had a small bow wrapped around it; it was from your Mother, Eva.

You quickly ripped through the wrapping and stared at the uncovered item. The box was a black velvet color and was unlike any other box you’d seen. Upon opening it, you (and your brothers) raised a curious brow at the contents. Inside, there was a well-taken-care-of palladium chain that had a sapphire pendant; one that is similar but much smaller than the twins’ (not yet received) necklaces.

“That necklace,” Eva started in, catching your attention, “has been in my family for several generations and now I'm entrusting it to you,” she smiled, “I know you’ll take good care of it.”

You got up and went to hug her, squeezing her tightly.

“Happy birthday, sweetheart,” she placed a small kiss on your cheek.

As she helped you put the necklace on, the twins noticed that Father had left the room. Before they could question it, however, he returned.

“Runt,” Sparda smiled widely, “Can you close your eyes and come here?”

“Sure!” You did as he asked, guided towards him by your Mother.

Sparda knelt in front of you, “You may reopen them.”

You stared in confusion and furrowed your brow, “Huh?”

Held between his hands was a large, over six-foot-long, blade. His right hand was on the grip of the sword and his left hand was grasping the back edge on the other end, “Happy Birthday.”

“What!” Dante shot up from the couch, “Not fair!”

“Dante!” Vergil elbowed Dante in the gut, making the red devil sit back down.

You turned back to look at your brothers before your Father spoke again, “Although you may not have a use for it now, I thought it best that you get the same treatment as your brothers.”

“What is it?”

Sparda looked at you with parted lips before they curled into a smile as he laughed, “It is--or, rather, will be--your sword. Just as Vergil and Dante have Yamato and Rebellion; you will have The Devil Sword Sparda.”

A nervous shake found its way to your hands as you reached out and placed your hands on the flat side of the blade. Admittedly the weapon was rather intimidating; I mean, Father doesn’t expect you to be able to lift that, right?

“Dad?” You meekly looked up at him.

“Hm?”

“Why is it named that?”

Another laugh emanated from the large devil, “Because it is my sword.”

“Weren’t Yamato and Rebellion yours too?”

“Rebellion and Yamato, were mine yes. However,” he looked down at the sword, “this is my pride and joy, the one that I still use.”

“Then why aren’t you keeping it?”

“Because,” he took one of his hands and patted the top of your head, “Someday you’ll need a sword too and I believe this one suited you best.”

“Oh,” you nodded and smiled at him, “Can- Can I ask one more thing?”

“Sure, I don’t see why not.”

Your fingers moved closer to the spine of the sword, making you cringe slightly at the fleshy feeling, “Why is this one so… scary looking?”

Eva laughed this time, even letting out a small snort of surprise at the odd question.

“I…” Sparda had a baffled look as he stared at you, “Are you asking why it has organic material?”

Once more, you nodded and gently grabbed one of the bony spines.

“Because,” he pursed his lips in thought, “Because it is most closely related to me and I come from a place that has a lot of organic materials like this.”

“You’re home..?” Neither you nor the twins knew much about your Father’s past, only bits and pieces, and you had always wanted to learn more about the strange man, “Can we visit there someday?”

Sparda shook his head ‘no’, “It isn’t a place that I want any of you to see, it is…” he pursed his lips, not knowing exactly how to explain things without frightening you, “it is not a nice place…”

“Oh…” You pushed down on the blue-grey scales, “Then how are you from there?”

“Par-Pardon?”

“You’re really nice and kind to everyone,” you pushed down on the large emerald stone that was nestled in the scales, “So how are you from there if it isn’t a nice place?”

Sparda didn’t respond.

You looked up at your Father and saw that he was staring at you with an odd expression, “Dad?”

“Sparda,” Eva moved next to you and gently placed a hand on her husband’s shoulder, “Is something wrong?”

The room became uncomfortably quiet. Both twins were staring at the three of you and you had removed your hand from the sword, opting to hold Eva’s hand.

Without a word, Sparda got up and left, taking the sword with him.

“Did I say something wrong?” You looked up at your Mother.

“No, sweetheart. I'm not sure what that's about,” she looked down at you, placing a hand on your head with a small pat, “Why don’t the three of you go play for a while? I’ll come to get you for dinner and cake later, okay?”

Although you all were uneasy, the three of you went to the twin’s room to play for a while. Eva made her way to Sparda’s office and found him sitting at his desk, staring down at nothing in particular.

“Dear?” Eva’s voice was soft as she entered the room, shutting it behind her, “What’s wrong?”

The large man looked up at his wife, “It is nothing.”

She moved further into the room and stood beside him, placing a hand on his shoulder, “I wasn’t born yesterday, something’s wrong.”

“It’s just,” Sparda removed his monocle and pinched the bridge of his nose with a sigh, pushing the corners of his eyes, “that they used to run and hide when I’d enter a room and then to tell me that…”

Eva gently ran her fingers through his hair and had a sad smile tugging at her lips, “They have come a long way. Is that why you are upset?”

His voice cracked a bit, “I know that it is rather stupid but it makes me sad…” he let out a wet huff of a laugh, “I never thought I’d have a family let alone,” his shoulders tensed as he leaned forwards, removing his fingers from his face, “let alone have children who see me as a good and kind man.”

The petite woman watched as Sparda let out a shuddering breath and placed his elbows on his desk as he pressed his palms into his eyes; doing his best to suppress his emotions.

“After everything I’ve done,” Sparda’s voice was quiet, shameful, “that I did…”

“Sparda…” Eva’s fingers tightened on his shoulder.

He looked up at his wife, tears welling up in his eyes, “Have I truly earned such words?”

The blonde woman held her husband close, doing her best to comfort him, "A thousand times over, my love."

They sat together for what seemed like a lifetime, intertwined within each other's arms. Neither you nor the twins were told about what happened; rather, everyone acted as if nothing odd happened in the first place. However, Sparda made sure that he tucked you in that night, gave you a hug and kiss, and told you that he loves you. A memory that you'd never forget.

Over the next year or so, you began to flourish more and more. The twins were able to outright treat you the same as they do each other without having to worry about your parents getting as upset. Along with that, the townsfolk that saw you three thought that you were a set of triplets; even though you didn’t look like your older brothers. The three of you did everything together; sparred, played, ate, slept--you were inseparable.

“That’s not fair!” You pouted as you lay on the ground, face up, “You promised you wouldn’t do that!”

Dante and you had been sparring, while Vergil was on the lookout in case your parents showed up.

The younger twin laughed a bit and offered you a hand, helping you up, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to.”

Recently, he had developed a new ability, one which he called “Royal Guard” and he just absolutely blasted you with it.

“You alright?” Before you could respond, Dante gently moved your head to the side, “Uh-- Hey Verge,” he looked over to his blue brother, “Can you come ‘ere?”

“What?” Vergil raised a brow and noticed what Dante was looking at, “Really, Dante?”

The red twin removed his hand from you, only to have Vergil replace his hold on your face. You pouted a bit in confusion, “What? Is something wrong?”

“Yes,” Vergil glared at his twin as he removed his hand, allowing you to turn back them, “Dante managed to leave a large bruise across your neck.”

“What if I said I fell..?” You tilted your head to the side and watched Vergil think.

“That might work, however--”

A loud crash and an even louder yelp from you caught the twins off guard. You were currently pinned face down underneath something really really heavy and were unable to move. Dante being Dante started to panic and sprinted off to find Mother; only to have Vergil chase after him and try to stop him--leaving you completely alone. Admittedly, things could be worse--you could’ve been blasted by Dante’s new godforsaken ability again; however, you weren’t exactly thrilled at the moment.

Every muscle and tendon in your body felt as if it were on fire as you pushed up. A loud shouting cry left your lips as you finally push whatever it was off of you--at least enough that you could worm your way out.

Your brow furrowed, “What..?” In front of you was the behemoth of a weapon, The Devil Sword Sparda.

Carefully, you ran your fingers along the flat part right by the sharp edge of the blade. You hadn’t been allowed to see it (let alone touch it) since it was gifted to you. Mindlessly, you grabbed the handle and tugged a bit. Sure, it was heavy when it was on top of you. But now? It felt like you could lift it. Before you were able to test it out, your Mother and brothers were right next to you.

“How did you get this?” Eva’s voice was stern but had a very light trace of fear pricking at the edges.

“I-” you shook your head and looked at her, “I didn’t-- I mean, I don’t know how--”

“It just appeared out of nowhere!” Dante chimed in, which Vergil then socked him in the arm; mumbling about how Eva wasn’t talking to him.

Her lips parted as if she were going to say something, but she said nothing. After a minute or so of silence, Eva cleared her throat, “We need to put this back in your Father’s office. Can you… lift it?”

You moved to the end of the blade and picked up. Seeing that you weren’t quite able to fully pick it up, Vergil and Dante helped; which was enough to lift the gigantic blade. The three of you, guided by your Mother, carried it to Sparda’s office and placed it on the floor of the room.

The incident was never brought up again.

A few weeks following, Dante and Vergil had their eighth birthday. It was an absolute blast as far as you were concerned. The three of you went ice skating, had a snowball fight, and then made snowmen; it was the most “human” fun you’d ever had as a family. When it came time for presents, Eva gifted them two semi-matching ruby amulets; the only difference was that Dante’s was silver while Vergil’s was bronze.

However, Vergil and Dante asked a question that had been on your mind as well, “Where’s Dad?”

Eva simply brushed it off saying, “He’s away with work right now; he’ll be home any day now.”

Looking back on it now, you know Eva was fully aware of your father's death and was just sparing the three of you from the painful terrifying news.

Things were fine for a while; the three of you continued to learn at home with Eva as your teacher and trained as a trio, waiting for Sparda to return.

It was late spring the last time you saw your Mother.

Her, Dante, and you were inside baking cookies together; while Vergil was outside playing--since he didn’t care for cooking.

“Can one of you go get Vergil? I’d like him to come in and help decorate these,” Eva smiled warmly.

Before Dante could even process what was said, you sprung up from your chair with a shout, “I’ll get him!!” and then sprinted out the door.

One moment, you were happily sprinting through the house thinking about what color frosting you wanted to use; and the next, you were engulfed in flames. Your eyes widened with horror as you gazed upon horrific monsters that you’d never seen and, quite frankly, never wanted to see again.

The front door was closer to you than running back to the kitchen, so you continued forwards and did your best to avoid both falling bits of building and whatever these creatures were.

“I just have to reach Vergil. He can protect me,” you repeated this thought to yourself as you sprinted as fast as you could. A half-choked sob left your lips as you felt your chest being to tighten from the smoke. In the end, your struggle was all in vain; you never made it down the hallway, let alone to Vergil.

The twin’s swords clashed as they darted around each other; enjoying their long-awaited reunion. Vergil hit Dante square in the gut and made him fly back several feet, leaving the red devil belly up and laughing heartily.

After a minute or two, Dante sat up with a small content sigh, “So… Not that this isn’t fun but, you got a plan to get us out of this place, Verge?”

The eldest twin straightened his coat and looked at his brother, “I do.”

“Well,” the red devil stood and cracked his back, “Why didn’t you say so.”

“As you said…” Vergil avoided Dante’s eyes, “you were enjoying yourself.”

“And here I thought you were all work, no play.”

Vergil glared at Dante for a moment then stood with his eyes closed, listening.

“So, now-”

“Silence-” Vergil’s face scrunched as he focused harder, before gesturing off to his left, “That way.”

“O-okay..?” Dante followed his brother, “So, what was that about?”

“Yamato can only create a portal at the highest points of the Underworld-”

“Where would we be closest to the human realm..?”

“Exactly.”

“That doesn’t explain the weird thing you just did.”

“I had to locate such a spot,” Vergil’s tone was flat, not wanting to have to explain the specifics; especially since Dante knows what he's talking about.

“Ah, gotcha,” No, Dante didn’t have a goddamn clue as to what the fuck his brother meant.

The two of them walked for what seemed like forever, only stopping to fight miscellaneous hordes of demons. Although it was unintentional at first, they used this time to talk about many difficult topics; starting from the freshest things and working their way back. Vergil’s mind was still a scrambled mess which caused him to have a rather difficult time recalling things the further back they went, so it took longer and longer with each topic.

Despite that small hiccup, they reached back to where this all truly began. Admittedly, neither of them wanted to talk about it but it was important--and it’s not like they had much else to do anyway.

Dante went first and explained what happened; how Eva hid him away and left to find Vergil, her then dying in the process.

The blue devil raised a brow at Dante’s words which didn’t go unnoticed by the red devil, “What?”

“Nothing.”

“No,” Dante shook his head, “No, we talked about this; we agreed to be upfront with each other,” at this point, the red devil sounded more akin to a parent scolding a child rather than a concerned sibling; because of how much he had to strong-arm his brother into talking.

The eldest moved his jaw side to side in thought before speaking, “Last you told me, you portrayed a very different tale.”

“Oh yeah? What did I say?”

Vergil’s response was beyond quiet and Dante was unable to make out what was said.

“Verge,” Dante carefully placed a hand on his twin’s shoulder.

The blue devil flinched from the action before stiffening his entire body, “You heavily insinuated that Mother did not care for me; that she had no intent to…” He clenched his jaw and broke from Dante’s stare.

Dante’s expression fell, “I know and… I’m sorry,” Vergil glared at Dante from the corner of his eyes, “but, if I’m honest, I was just doing that to piss you off,” he sighed softly, “It made it easier for me to fight you, because-- because if I refused to admit that I cared about you then I didn’t feel as bad about the whole thing... About fighting you…”

“Tch,” Vergil slicked his hair back, an action that Dante noted Vergil did when uncomfortable, “I doubt you needed extra reinforcement with that; you seemed to be just fine with fighting me.”

“Hey,” Dante grabbed Vergil’s shoulder, forcing him to turn to him, “You listen here,” he firmly grasped both of Vergil’s shoulders, much to the eldest’s discomfort, “I never wanted things to end like that. I never thought that you’d-- that we’d--” Dante let out an aggravated sigh as he unintentionally tightened his grip, “Don’t you think for a fucking second that I wanted to lose you or hurt you like that Vergil.”

The blue devil did his best to avoid Dante’s eyes.

“You are my brother, even if you did some stupid shit,” Vergil’s eyes snapped right back to his brother upon hearing that, “I mean, I did stupid shit too; but, I never thought things would turn out as they did.”

Vergil sighed softly, “You are a fool.”

“What’s that supposed to--” Dante let out a surprised ‘oof’.

Vergil had pulled his brother into a hug, albeit a rather aggressive one but it was still a hug.

Neither of them spoke, they just stood there for a moment; holding one another. However nice things can never last as they became engulfed by another swarm of demons. It didn’t take long for the twins to have the large horde taken care of and they were back on the road.

After some time, Vergil decided to give his side of what happened. How he was attacked and experienced his first Trigger; how it tore his body apart and he nearly died by doing so. Only to run as far away as possible, thinking that “-both Eva and Dante were dead.”

Dante’s brow twitched at his twin’s words, or rather, lack thereof, “Hey, uh, Vergil?” Dante’s voice was uncharacteristically quiet.

“Hm?”

“Aren’t you missing someone?”

With a confused shake and furrow of his brow, Vergil stopped walking and turned to Dante, “No, Father was gone by then.”

Dante’s lips parted slightly as he looked with great concern, “Are you sure?”

Vergil raised a brow, “What are you on about?”

“Verge…” Dante swallowed hard and placed a hand on the back of his neck, “We had a little sibling that you completely neglected to mention…”

Vergil squinted, “What..?”

“Holy shit,” the red devil’s shoulders, and overall posture, dipped with sadness “You really forgot?”

“If this is your attempt at a joke, I do not find it funny.”

“I’m serious Vergil,” Dante shook his head as he continued, “They were like a year younger than us--were super sick when they were born, which you very bluntly pointed out,” the red devil desperately looked for any sign of recognition in his brother’s face, “Father wouldn’t train them because Mom wanted them to be raised like a human-- Anything ringing a bell?” Dante stared at Vergil.

“I…” Vergil’s jaw moved in thought, “I don’t know…” Before Dante could speak, Vergil put a hand up, “Just give me a little bit.”

“Sure,” after which Dante just continued to ramble about things that the three of you did as kids or random information about you.

“Did we… make them a book..? Vergil scrunched his face in confusion at, what he thought, was a stupid suggestion.

The younger twin’s head nodded quickly, “Yeah that’s right.”

Vergil’s brow twitched as he tried to remember more, “I believe I used to… read to them?”

Once more, Dante nodded, “You did.”

“I see…” the older twin’s expression was rather forlorn compared to normal, “You will have to forgive my confusion, everything is still a bit foggy.”

The twins continued forward for another few minutes before Dante piped up again.

“So, you didn’t see them during the fire then..?” Dante pursed his lips, “I never was able to figure if they…” Dante gestured at nothing in particular, “Ya know.”

The blue devil sighed, “As much as I’d like to think otherwise; if you haven’t heard from them, then they are most likely dead.”

The younger twin nodded, “I figured-- I mean,” he sighed heavily, “I had hoped that maybe you’d seen or heard about ‘em when you were under… well, ya know-- Prince Dickwad’s control.”

Vergil let out a small laugh before freezing at his own reaction. After a moment, he recomposed himself with a nod and returned to his monotone self, “No. I don’t believe I did, anyway…”

The red devil nodded and swallowed his emotions.

Admittedly, Dante had hoped that Vergil would’ve known something about what happened to you. Hoped that, maybe, you had reached the older twin before everything happened; but that was wishful thinking. After all, you were treated like a human, it only made sense that you would have died like one as well.

They continued forwards in silence for what seemed like an eternity. Vergil was mulling over his memories; admittedly, he was rather perturbed that he didn’t recall you until Dante reminded him. In hindsight, perhaps splitting himself using Yamato did more damage to himself than he had originally anticipated. However, that was for him to worry about at some other point; if at all.

Dante, on the other hand, was doing his best to come to terms with everything. He had been living with the false hope of you still being alive. The only thing that was running through his mind was how he almost lost both siblings. Thankfully, Vergil was still with him; which, admittedly, only added to the fear of losing his brother again.

A small discontented huff from Vergil caught Dante’s attention. Before he could ask his brother what was up, Dante saw what Vergil was staring at. In front of them was a large desolate building that absolutely reeked of gore--worse than they’d encountered thus far.

“So, let me guess,” Dante half-ass pointed at the sight before them, “That’s where we need to go, huh?”

“It would appear that way,” Vergil took a deep breath. The blue devil wasn’t exactly thrilled about having to set foot in a structure like this; one so similar to the ones from all those years ago.

Dante noticed his brother’s apprehension, “You gonna be alright?”

“I’ll be fine!” Vergil’s answer was much snappier than intended. Before moving forwards, Vergil mumbled to himself, “It is only a building, it isn’t that big of a deal.”

Before Dante could try and comfort his brother, Vergil was nearly at the entrance. The two cautiously pushed the heavy doors open. The outpost had seen better days, that much was apparent; with every step forward Dante felt as if the pair were going to go straight through the floor--or worse, the building would collapse atop them. Despite the abhorrent smell of death and fresh kills, there wasn’t a body to be found--not even a single drop of blood.

While they made their way up the stairs, Vergil began to take note of how eerily quiet it was. Hell is far from a quiet place, constantly having the sounds of demons screeching and other miscellaneous sounds; here, however, you could hear a pin drop from five rooms away. It made him feel uneasy, only adding to how on edge he was.

Dante had also noticed and began to mindlessly whistle to himself. The unexpected noise made Vergil flinch heavily. The red devil stopped for a moment, waiting for Vergil to say something. After a few moments with no response, Dante continued to fill the silence with any sort of noise he could, unknowingly providing a little comfort to the eldest twin. As the pair ventured onwards and upwards, they both began to look around in a paranoid manner; awaiting the inevitable ambush.

Dante decided to make small talk, “So… can I ask somethin’?” He looked over to his brother who was standing in front of a large decrepit, nearly shattered, mirror.

“Hm?” Vergil’s eyes didn’t leave his reflection.

“Is this, like, one of Mundus’s outposts?”

Vergil shook his head and tilted his head to the side toward Dante, however, the eldest’s eyes never left the glass. He ghosted his fingers along the surface, “No--not his territory.”

“Then who--”

“Argosax… and this isn’t an outpost,” Vergil huffed and turned his full attention to his sibling, “This is, or was, one of their main strongholds; this one, in particular, is only a step below the main fortress”

“You don’t say…”

Vergil raised a brow at Dante’s odd reaction, “Don’t tell me you have forgotten about Argosax? After all, you are the one that killed them.”

“Eh,” the red devil shrugged, “Can’t say I remember ‘em much--they were pretty boring. Plus Argo didn’t put up much of a fight.”

The blue devil scoffed and continued forwards, Dante following a few paces behind, “Perhaps we are the only two people that would consider fighting a ruler of Hell an easy feat--no?”

“You got that right,” Dante playfully shoved Vergil’s shoulder and had a sheathed Yamato placed right against his throat for it, “Whoa--” he put his hands up with his palms facing Vergil, “easy there tiger.”

The eldest twin coldly eyed his brother for a moment before he took a slow deep breath and removed the sword, turning back around and continuing forwards.

“Sorry, I uh,” Dante jogged lightly and stood beside his twin, “I didn’t mean to upset you.”

Vergil didn’t answer but just kept walking.

Dante pursed his lips and stuck his hands in his jeans pockets. He wanted to say something, to continue talking, but it seemed like Vergil was done conversating for the time being.

Another set of stairs later, the twins came upon a large long hallway. Random bits of broken furniture and glass decorated the filthy marbled floors. The partially dilapidated ceiling was elegantly decorated with arch supports that had lavish latticework; which had large roots weaved within, destroying some of it. The walls had old craters that ranged from being small--almost fist-sized--dents to entire walls missing. Along the way, the walls were also filled with easily over a dozen doors; some were open, some were barricaded shut, and others were far from the hinges that they belonged to.

“This place seems much more refined than everywhere else,” Dante tilted his head to the side.

Vergil nodded mockingly, “Yes, very good; I’m glad that you can still see.”

“Hey,” Dante punched Vergil’s shoulder, “I just meant; like--Why is it nicer?”

The blue devil hummed in thought for a moment, crouching to get a better look at one of the large shards of glass, “I’m not sure; but, if I had to guess,” Vergil carefully picked up the piece, moving it around and watching the reflection, “These were the living quarters for whatever devil’s served Argosax.”

Dante made a surprised huff, “Really? I didn’t think that devils were into that whole thing,” he approached one of the normal-looking doors, “Figure they would be too focused on destruction and killing things,” he opened the door, but didn’t enter; opting to just stand in the doorframe.

The eldest twin raised a brow, placed the shard down, and walked over to his sibling, standing behind him, “What’s wrong?”

“I-” Dante stood with his mouth agape, a clear look of confusion across his brow, as he turned to Vergil, “You saw that, right?”

“What are you talking about, Dante?”

Dante looked back at the room, pausing a moment before speaking, “Nothing; guess I’m just tired.”

The youngest twin took a step into the room before being stopped by Vergil grabbing his shoulder, keeping him from moving further.

“Verge..?” Dante turned to his brother, who seemed paler than normal.

“Let’s keep moving,” Vergil’s voice had an odd shake to it and his fingers were tight enough that they were digging into Dante’s shoulder.

“S-sure..?” Dante turned and began to walk down the hall to the upward-climbing staircase, before finally asking, “What was that about?”

Vergil looked over to Dante but said nothing.

“Verge..?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Vergil looked back in front of them.

“Was that supposed to be comforting?”

“I didn’t think that I had to be.”

“What a wonderful older brother I have.”

Vergil glared at Dante before shaking his head with an eye roll.

The pair continued forwards, the feeling of unease only intensifying with each deserted story. Vergil stopped within the confines of one of the stairwells, “Dante,”

“Hm?”

Vergil looked around before looking at Dante, “Do you feel like we are missing something?”

“What?”

Vergil’s brow furrowed as he pursed his lips before turning his gaze back in front of them with a small shake, “Never mind.”

The two continued to the next floor. Once at the top of the stairs, Dante stopped and looked around, “Well, now that you mention it,” Vergil looked over to him, “I do feel kind of odd; like we shouldn’t be here.”

“Well… that’s a given; however,” the blue devil walked further, peaking inside different rooms, “that is not quite what I meant,” finally, Vergil seemed to find a room that fit whatever he was looking for, “Let’s rest here for a moment.”

“I uh-- okay..?” Dante walked into the room. Vergil followed suit, shutting and barricading the door with a nearby cot; piquing the red devil’s curiosity, “So what’s with the sudden break time, Verge?”

The blue twin looked around the room, “This one is safe.”

“Huh?”

Vergil sat on the edge of one of the dirty and tattered cots, “Sit.”

The younger twin hesitated a moment before sitting beside his brother, putting one leg up on the bed to sit facing his sibling.

“Do you recall how I first confronted you when under Mundus?” Vergil’s voice was soft as his eyes mindlessly stared at nothing in particular on the floor. His forearms were resting on his legs as he rapidly tapped his thumbs together--tapping one foot in the same fashion.

The red devil’s face contorted as he thought for a moment. Admittedly, Dante has a hard time recalling events from that time in his life. In the gap between Vergil’s fall and meeting Nero for the first time, Dante was beyond a depressed alcoholic mess leaving those memories a completely jumbled mess.

“Dante,” Vergil turned his head slightly, staring at his sibling from the corner of his eye, “Do you not remember?” Although his voice was still monotone as normal, there was a distant sadness to Vergil’s words.

“I do, kinda,” Dante’s shoulders fell as he placed a hand on the back of his neck, “everything from back then is kinda hazy--just give me a second.”

“I can just--”

“No-!” Dante’s voice was unintentionally stern. Quickly he added in a softer voice, “I want to-- I can remember, just give me a second.”

Vergil turned to fully stare at Dante; watching his brother’s contorted expressions as he was deep in thought. After a minute or so Dante’s face relaxed as he met Vergil’s eyes, “You used a mirror, right? Walked right out of it..?”

“That is correct--”

“Yeah, you were the first bastard that actually had some guts to give me a real fight…” Dante laughed, trying to lighten the mood a bit.

A small smirk ghosted Vergil’s face as he returned to stare at the same spot on the floor, “Surely you noticed the abnormally high amount of glass here, right?”

Dante shrugged, “I did notice but… uh- I got no idea what these places are supposed to look like; didn’t know it was weird.”

Vergil frowned slightly, “No devil is that obsessed with themselves that they’d have that much glass--it must have been placed on purpose.”

The younger twin’s brow lifted with confused curiosity, “So, you--or, well, Nelo--traveling using glass wasn’t some exclusive thing?”

Vergil shook his head ‘no’, “It is a skill that can be taught; however,” Vergil’s shoulders tensed as he turned to look up at the door, “it is extremely difficult to learn and even harder to master.”

“Vergil,” Dante sighed, “I don’t want to sound rude; but, what’s your point?”

The eldest twin sat upright and looked over at Dante, with a harsh squint and clear scowl, “I am saying someone or something is here with us; watching us.”

“Okay. Counterpoint,” Dante folded his arms with a raise of his brow, “What if those are all from someone who used to be here but left when Argosax died? Or are already dead?”

“You aren’t that stupid, Dante,” Vergil stood up, his grip tightening on Yamato, “I know you can feel it, too.”

“So what if they can do some fancy glass shit?” Dante stood up and cocked his head to the side, “We’ll just defeat them like everyone else.”

“In our current state,” Vergil sighed, “I’m not so sure…”

“Our current state?” Dante folded his arms, leaning back a bit, “What’s that supposed to mean..?”

The blue devil’s eyes slowly turned to stare at Dante, “Tell me, Dante; how long do you think you or I can hold our Devil Triggers? Or better yet, our Sin Triggers?”

Dante huffed, knowing that Vergil was right but not wanting to admit it.

Vergil continued, “Whatever or whoever this is, they aren’t to be taken lightly. Neither of us can take on something much more than Behemoths or Lusachias right now; so, it would be very unlikely that we could survive a fight with a real devil.”

After a minute, Dante let out a soft sigh, “Man,” Dante scratched his chin, “It’s that bad, huh?”

Vergil squinted, asking Dante to explain.

“I mean,” the younger twin moved his jaw in thought for a moment, “If you of all people aren’t confident about winning; then we really are fucked.”

“I-- I do not know if you are trying to insult me or not.”

The red devil laughed, placing a hand on his twin’s shoulder, “Let’s go find out who’s been spying on us; what do you say?”

Vergil shook his head with a quiet sigh and a small smile, “They are most likely at the top of the stronghold; where we are going.”

“The news just gets better and better,” Dante moved the cot from the door, “What’s next; you gonna tell me that they are immune to our swords or something?”

“Don’t jinx us, Dante.”

The younger twin laughed as they left the room, continuing onward and upwards. It only took two more staircases for them to reach the top.

Both twins pushed hard against the large double doors at the top of the steps, opening them just enough for the pair to slip by. They found themselves in a large waiting room of sorts. Directly across from them was another huge set of double doors.

The room was in an odd mixture of both good and poor condition; the room itself was relatively undamaged--no holes or what not, however, it was inundated with corpses and blood--which is what caused the rotten stench.

Marble flooring covered the space, which was so covered in filth and gore that it was impossible to tell what color it was intended to be. The walls were plain and relatively similar to the rest of the building; except for the one that housed the unopened doors. That particular wall was covered in rocks and miscellaneous gems. Which seemed rather out of place, as if someone had stuck them there after the wall was built.

Vergil’s eyes flicked up to the ceiling. Its base was covered in cracked grimy tinted glass which was broken up by several dome vaults. In each dome, there were different murals. As he looked harder, he realized that: A.) it was also not original and poorly done, and B.) the “paint” was demons' blood. The different murals were crude interpretations of different events, but he couldn’t quite make them out.

As Vergil tried to get a better view of the artwork, Dante was looking at the extravagant furniture and decor that littered the room. In the middle of the right side, there was a large stone table with several wooden chairs--a few of which were broken; both the table and chairs all seemed to be hand-carved, covered with various creatures and symbols. On the far left of the room was a large wood desk; that, once more, seemed to be hand-carved--it looked similar to Dante’s. This was enough to pique the red devil’s curiosity.

Dante sauntered over to the desk. Once he got closer, he noticed that there was an odd stack of thin paper-like items on it. Carefully, he moved the items around and tried to make out any of the scribbles.

“Hey Verge,” Dante turned over his shoulder, “Come take a look at this.”

Vergil slowly looked down from the ceiling and strutted over to his sibling.

“Does any of this mean anythin’--or are these just someone's failed art project?”

The blue devil pushed Dante out of the way and spread out the items of interest across the entirety of the table. He leaned forwards with his hands on the edge of the desk and began to pick through the papers.

After a few minutes, Vergil answered, “These are all made on dried demon hide,” Dante gave Vergil a look of surprise, “They are all very well done, some of the best work I have seen...”

“I didn’t know you could make paper from demons.”

“It’s more akin to leather rather than paper.”

“Still is weird.”

Vergil hummed in acknowledgment and moved some of the pages together before sighing, “There is a small paragraph here,” he ran his index finger along the area with writing, “However, the diction is very broken and the language isn’t consistent; using both Greek and Latin.”

“Is it anything important?”

Vergil hesitated, “I’m unsure.”

“Can you try and read it?”

The eldest sibling nodded then cleared his throat, stopping every few words to translate more, “ ‘ "Father, father,/where are you going?/Oh do not walk so fast!/Speak, father, speak to your little child,/Or else I shall be lost.". The night was dark, no father was there,/The child was wet with dew;/The mire was deep, and the child did weep,/And away the vapour flew.' .”

The red devil raised a brow, “Isn't that--?"

"William Blake's work? Yes."

"You didn’t by chance write these, did you?”

“No,” Vergil shook his head and stood up straight, “I never wrote this one down; not to mention I was never allowed to accompany Mundus to any “meetings” with Argosax--none of my belongings would be here.”

“Hm, wonder why?”

“Why what?”

“Well,” Dante placed a hand on his hip, “If you were Mundus’s prized knight, then why didn’t he take you with him? I mean, I would’ve if I were him.”

“I-” Vergil’s face contorted with sudden confusion and realization, “I don’t know.”

Dante shook his head, “Anyway, so why is there random poetry here? Argosax just decided to learn about human literature?”

“I don’t know that either; this is the first time I have seen human works that weren’t written down by myself,” Vergil’s eyes peered over the table, “It is rather off-putting that it is Blake’s work as well; there are hundreds of thousands of poets to choose from…”

“Yeah… I mean- I don’t want to sound mean but are you sure Urizen or V didn’t visit here?”

“Urizen and V did not visit here; I assure you,” the blue devil looked over to the unopened doors, “I think our break time is over.”

The younger twin looked over at the doors, joining Vergil’s stare, “You feel it too, huh?”

“Mn,” Vergil gave a curt nod, “Whatever is behind that door; is what’s been spying on us.”

“Welp,” Dante traipsed over to the doors, “Little help?”

Vergil shook his head, “I am going to get a peak at what is on the other side first; then we will decide our course of action.”

“What?!” Dante’s face scrunched as his mouth was agape in confusion, “Vergil, you are the one who keeps preaching about how powerful this thing is. You going over there by yourself is-- is--” he pinched the bridge of his nose, “stupid!”

“Us just breaking down the door without understanding what we are up against or what we are releasing is impetuous,” the eldest folded his arms, “I will be fine, it is just a peek.”

“But what if--”

“If I am not back within a minute,” Vergil went to place a hand on Dante’s shoulder but stopped, opting to lightly punch him instead, “Then break down the door.”

“Verge this is a little too heavy for--”

“You are a son of Sparda; a devil imbued with the fire of hell itself,” Vergil gave Dante a smug smirk, “A wooden door shouldn’t be much of a challenge.”

The red devil sighed, “Alright- Alright… Just, hurry back.”

Vergil gave him a small nod before disappearing into a cloud of smoke.

Once on the other side, Vergil was met with a muddy bronze-colored devil--just sitting in the middle of the room. The devil’s eyes were closed and its hands were placed on its thighs; as if it were meditating. The moment Vergil tried to move, however, the devil’s eyes snapped open. They were of a bright magenta hue and had streaks of the same color running down their face which joined up with a line that went across their throat--mimicking a slit throat.

It stood up, locking eyes with Vergil. Their body was riddled with battle scars and had a mixture of browns, blacks, and purples throughout. Its entire form was much more akin to Vergil's or Dante’s Sin Trigger’s, making Vergil scrunch his face in bafflement.

The more he looked, the more strange this new devil became. Notably, the devil had cloven hooves; a feature that Vergil had only ever seen on one other devil. His eyes widened, taken aback at the sudden realization of what he was looking at; however, before Vergil could return to his twin, the eldest was teleported to an unfamiliar location. It was akin to that of Malphas’s void that V had been placed in; however, there were no gates, no menacing feeling, just a room filled with junk..?

I couldn't decide what I wanted the reader's SDT to look like, so here is a compilation of all the different sketches/two fully rendered works.

Dante paced uneasily behind the door, tapping his fingers against the grips of Ebony & Ivory, grinding his teeth together, “He will be fine; I just--!”

He froze and his eyes widened, he could no longer feel Vergil’s presence, “Son of a Bitch!” Dante holstered his side arms and Triggered then crashed through the doors--making them fly off their hinges.

The bronze devil caught one of the airborne objects and threw it back at Dante; who sliced it clean in two. He de-Triggered and looked around the room for any sign of his twin. Panic began to set in as he tried to figure out what happened; Vergil wouldn’t have left Dante here, right?

Before Dante could delve into those thoughts, the feeling of his feet leaving the ground brought him back to reality. The bronze devil had hit the red devil far off into the doors that lead into the waiting room he had just been in.

With a groan, he sat up and got to his feet, “Damn it, Verge,” his eyes met with the devil’s, “Where’d you go?”

Crouching down slightly, Dante readied his Devil Sword and dashed at his attacker. The devil curled both sets of its leathery wings around itself, using them to take the brunt of Dante’s Devil Sword’s power; before expanding them back out, sending Dante flying back once more.

“Tch,” he quickly caught himself and sprinted at the devil once more, cracking the ground in his wake.

It grabbed Dante’s blade, which sliced into its palm. It looked at the wound in confusion, as if it didn’t understand what happened. Using their free hand, the devil tried to grab Dante but he managed to teleport out of reach. The bronze devil stared down at their injured hand, seemingly enamored by the pooling blood.

Not wanting to let up, Dante attacked again--using Trickster to get closer and take the devil by surprise. This, however, didn’t go as planned. His opponent flicked their head toward the direction Dante had teleported and, using one of its forward-facing horns, skewered him through the thigh.

“Shit,” Dante pushed away on the devil’s head, attempting to break free; however, an odd blue glint caught his eye and he stopped.

Before the younger twin could get a better look at the odd object, the devil yanked Dante off its horn. In a flash, they slammed him into the floor, creating a large crater with Dante’s body. They attempted to gut Dante using its claws; however, they were stopped by Dante’s Devil Sword being laid across his body. Using his free hand, Dante grabbed Ebony and shot his attacker between the eyes--at point-blank range.

He waited for the devil’s body to go limp but it didn’t; no, it just sat there, looking down at him. The bullet was lodged deep in its head and was bleeding but they were still alive. Getting frustrated with this fight, Dante triggered.

The bronze devil hissed quietly and jumped up in reaction to the sudden molten hot temperatures of the red devil, which allowed Dante to do the same. The bronze devil grabbed the bullet from its forehead, looked at it with an odd curiosity, and then flicked it at Dante; with the same velocity that it would have if it had been shot from a gun.

Of course, it missed the younger twin. Shaking off his confusion, he re-engaged with the devil. Dante’s wings flew out behind him as he lunged at the devil. It put up its forearms and caught the sword with them. Although it wasn’t as deep as it would’ve been against any other devil or demon; the sword sliced into the meat of the arm.

A strange huff of a growl came from the devil, as it locked eyes with Dante. Despite the fact the devil had no lips, the younger twin couldn’t help but feel as if it were smiling at him--mocking him. In frustration, Dante pushed harder into the devil’s arms and that’s when he felt it.

“What..?” Dante sprung back and looked at his forearms; large deep cuts that mirrored the ones on his opponents decorated his arms and were bleeding heavily, “That’s a new one.”

The bronze devil cocked its head slightly and flared its wings outwards; now it was definitely mocking the younger twin.

With a small growl, “Fine,” Dante stuck his sword into the ground and pulled out Ebony & Ivory, “Let’s try this on for size.”

The red devil kicked up into the air, hovering several feet above the bronze devil, and rattled off several rounds. If it had been any other devil or demon, Dante knows that all of his shots would’ve landed; however, only a handful of the bullets managed to knick the devil’s hide. Despite the devil’s sheer size, it was much more attentive and more of a contortionist than he’d anticipated.

Dante shot off Ivory several times in hopes to distract the devil from the slowly charging Ebony in his left hand, “Here’s a lil’ somethin’ for ya’,” Dante yanked up Ebony and fired--not allowing his opponent any time to react… or so he thought.

The moment he pulled the trigger, his target disappeared. A chill ran up Dante’s spine and, before he could process what was going on, the devil was behind Dante and grabbed him by the wings, holding them by the base. The devil spun around in the air and threw Dante into an upper part of a wall. The younger twin let out a strangled gasp as he felt the air leave his body and de-triggered. He fell from the high-up spot face down onto the floor. Slowly he stood back up, stumbling a bit and taking deep uneven breaths. He tossed his coat off to the side--not that it mattered much since it was pretty tattered at this point--and revealed that his entire back was raw. Large slices ran along his spine where his wings were attached and were bleeding profusely.

Not knowing what else to do and steadily becoming more and more exhausted, Dante summoned his sword back to his side and used his Sin Trigger--healing his wounds. The bronze devil took a step back and tilted its head in confusion before Dante was back upon them with blinding speed. He stabbed the sword through the devil’s middle; not caring that it made his own insides burn. They let out a sputtering gasp and grabbed at Dante’s neck and face; wedging their claws in between his scales, pulling them off. The two struggled for a while before the son of Sparda was finally tossed off to the side.

The bronze devil looked around for a moment quickly concluding that it was outmatched. They stuck out its hand to the side and waited. Although Dante is only a few short steps away from feral when in this form, he froze upon seeing what was within the bronze devil’s grasp.

Their fingers tightened around the sword’s dingy crimson grip as they placed the back edge on their shoulder. However, the sword wasn’t the only thing that Dante was in shock over; no, there was something else. Hanging onto the grip was Vergil, who teleported to his twin immediately upon returning.

Dante was in such shock that he could no longer hold his Sin Trigger. The bronze devil lunged at the pair, missing only by a hair because Vergil grabbed his twin and teleported to the story below.

“Are you alright?” Vergil looked over his visibly exhausted twin.

With heavy breaths and a half-hearted laugh, Dante smiled, “That’s supposed to be my line.”

“They seem to have given you quite the hassle.”

“Eh, I’m just tired.”

“Tch,” Vergil shook his head, “We don’t have much time-”

“Verge,” Dante’s voice cracked, “Why does that thing have The Sparda?”

“Not just that,” Vergil reached into the edge of his coat and pulled out a large book that had an old faded happy family pasted right on the front cover, “They also had this.”

“What-”

“I don’t know exactly what’s happened; however,” Vergil looked up and saw cracks beginning to form, “We need to figure it out and fast.”

Dante copied his brother’s stare before returning to him, “So what-- They were “Nelo Angelo-d”?”

“Do not call it that,” Vergil snarled at his sibling lightly, “If it were that easy then I would’ve taken care of them myself.”

“Then what happened to--!”

The ceiling caved in and both brothers jumped back. Vergil quickly tucked the book into his coat and readied Yamato.

“Wait, Verge,” Dante grabbed his brother’s shoulder, “Careful what you do,” his eyes locked with the magenta hue of the bronze devil’s, “I got stabbed by myself when attacking.”

Vergil side-eyed Dante, “How odd, that--!”

The bronze devil lunged at the twins, who split apart in two different directions. Dante pulled out Ivory once more. The bronze devil snapped their attention to the red assailant and swung The Sparda. Dante rolled out of the way and knelt at the end of it, firing a few shots. However, the bronze devil wasn’t done; it followed through and pivoted around on its hooves. This opened The Sparda into its scythe formation, which was perfectly in line with Dante’s body.

“Shit,” Dante leaned back and hit the floor with his shoulder blades, still having his knees in a kneel. His turquoise eyes watched as the blade just barely missed his body.

Dante spun up around and onto his feet. Wondering what the plan was, he looked around for Vergil, only to find that he had disappeared again. Another aggressive lunge came from the burly opponent which Dante swiftly sprung upwards, landing on the (now-closed) Sparda’s spine.

A smirk tugged at Dante’s lips as he squatted down, placing his forearms on his knees, “Man you’ve gotten big, huh?” The devil pulled The Sparda back up, forcing the red devil to dismount, “You know, it took me forever to learn how to properly use that thing; surprised you already figured out how to open it--!”

He instantly reacted to the devil’s teleportation by doing so himself and stood with a hand neatly placed on his hip.

“I don’t want to fight you,” Dante’s brow twitched, using his free hand, he summoned his Devil Sword, “You don’t have to do this.”

A small, but noticeable, hesitation came from the bronze devil before it re-engaged with Dante. The two exchanged blows. Dante noted that it was almost eerily similar to how the two of them used to spar as kids. Suddenly, he got an idea.

He made sure that he was correct about the pattern that the bronze devil was using before dodging at a very particular point, the same one he used to take advantage of when you were kids.

“How’s this?” Dante unleashed Royal Guard, sending the devil flying back onto its ass.

It laid there for a moment as it stared at the ceiling.

The younger twin’s brow scrunched as he tried to remember what he’d say to you after accidentally hitting you with his ability, “Sorry… You alright?” Dante pursed his lips waiting for a response.

The bronze devil slowly leaned up, tilting its head at Dante. After a brief moment, they stood up with a shake of their head and readied The Sparda again.

Dante squinted as he readied his sword, thinking to himself, “Where the hell did Vergil go? He’d better have left for a good reason, I’m getting sick of this.”

The two of them exchanged blows again. It seemed to go on forever until Dante, in his exhaustion, slipped up and got slammed by the back edge of The Sparda; flying off into a nearby wall.

“Damn,” he groaned as he sat up, “I’m getting too old for this.”

They walked over to Dante, staring down at him with their wings flared out; debating what to do next.

Blood splashed onto Dante’s face as he watched Yamato peirce right through the devil’s hide. Vergil yanked Yamato downwards before removing the blade, causing the bronze devil to hunch over and hold its middle.

“I see,” Vergil wiped the blade against the wrist of his coat, cleaning it. Carefully, he placed it back in its scabbard, “You can only reflect attacks that you see coming, how enlightening.”

The bronze devil turned its head to the side before teleporting. Vergil pivoted around and blocked the devil’s attack. The eldest twin jogged over to his younger brother, tossing him the book. In return, Dante tossed Vergil Ebony before the blue devil turned back to the problem at hand.

Vergil reapproached and snapped his fingers, summoning his doppelgänger. The pair separated, Doppel shot upwards while Vergil did his best to keep the bronze devil’s attention. A grimace found its way to Vergil’s face as he used Yamato to block a heavy-handed swing from The Sparda. Sparks flew from the blades as they slid across one another.

Doppel attempted to repeat the same attack that Vergil had done before; however, the bronze devil dodged it and grabbed Doppel… or would’ve grabbed them if Doppel wasn’t an apparition. Vergil used the distraction to skewer the devil once again, this time pushing even harder into them with Yamato. The blade was deep enough that the tsuba was against the devil’s spine. Vergil’s feet were placed on the legs of the devil and he was leaning his whole body weight into the attack.

The bleeding devil flailed about, shaking its body vigorously and trying to claw at its back to grab their attacker. Unable to shake the annoying blue devil, they fell backwards, attempting to crush Vergil. Although it was unexpected, Vergil had enough time to use his Sin Trigger. This, in turn, protected his body; however, the floor was a different issue. The pair went straight through the structure and were now a few stories lower.

Vergil shoved the bronze devil off him, removing Yamato. The two stood staring at one another, waiting for the right moment to-

“Hey! Assholes!” Dante jumped down, fumbling his landing slightly, “You trying to kill me?”

Vergil’s eyes didn’t leave his opposer, however, the same cannot be said for them. Currently, its eyes were fixated on the book in Dante’s hand which the red devil noticed.

He held the book up in one hand, “Lookin’ at this?”

It tilted its head.

“Verge found it in the little pocket dimension you stuck him in- That’s what it was, right?”

The bronze devil looked away from Dante, staring at a random point in the room. Although he couldn’t be sure, from the odd reaction, Dante felt as if the bronze devil was confused--perhaps even trying to place the book or the twins.

“Let’s see,” Dante licked his finger and began to thumb through the pages, selecting one at random. With a loud cough, he began to read, “ ‘Today, we all went to the beach. It was fun-’,” The devil snapped back to attention and lunged at Dante, only to be stopped by Vergil.

Seeing this violent reaction, the red devil stopped only to have Vergil yell back at him, “Keep reading.”

The younger twin nodded, “ ‘-and I learned how to make a sand castle. Vergil kept making them with me and Dante kept destroying them; so mean.’,” Dante snickered to himself.

Vergil’s hold broke, allowing the bronze devil to continue its course. Dante managed to teleport out of the way and onto the opposite side of the room, using Vergil as a mid-way blockade.

“ ‘I asked if mom wanted to swim and she said ‘no’. Then I asked Dad, he told me he couldn’t swim. So my brothers and I offered to teach him. Mom laughed.’.”

A low guttural growl emanated from deep within the devil’s throat.

“Keep going, Dante,” Vergil and the bronze devil traded blows again, all the while, Dante kept reading.

He flipped to a new page, “ ‘Vergil and Dante came to get me from school today. They got to meet all my friends. Tristen said that they were weird and I punched him in the nose. There was a lot of blood and Dante told me to ‘beat his ass’. We all got yelled at when we got home. Worth it.’.”

The devil swung The Sparda and nearly sliced Vergil’s tail in half.

“Let’s see, uh…” Dante flipped further into the book but stumbled upon something unexpected; entries made after the fire, “Vergil, give me a minute.”

Although the eldest wanted to banter with his sibling, he was much too focused on the fight.

Dante’s eyes widened as he scanned the later pages. Things continued as normal, however, there was a turning point about ⅔ of the way through. There were no more drawings, no more newspaper clippings, no more stickers. The once-happy thoughts and quippy comments were replaced with ramblings about how much they wanted to go home; how much you wanted this to end. Dante’s eyes rapidly flicked across each section, a mixture of both despair and anger becoming more and more apparent with each entry.

You had been wandering for what seemed like days on end. In the beginning, you’d tried to summon The Sparda or call out to your Father, in hopes that he’d save you. Days on end were spent screaming and crying out for someone to find you--to wake you from this unending nightmare. But no one ever came, no one could even hear the whimpering lament of this lost child.

Your body was growing weary and your limbs felt like lead as you began to meander slower and slower. At one point, you found a small out-cove and stopped in hopes of getting some rest but found yourself quickly attacked by those creatures again. So, you’d run until you lost sight of them. The incessant sounds of snarling nightmarish demons filled your ears, only to be broken up by the calling out of your long empty stomach.

Everything hurt: your eyes, your lungs, your head, your legs; every single inch of your body was exhausted. The lack of water only drained your muscles further, adding painful cramping to each inch of your legs; but you had to keep going. However, despite this sentiment, you couldn’t pick your feet up anymore and collapsed on the ground.

A burning sensation brought you back to. You tried to flip yourself over but found that you were unable; something had a hold of you. Panic quickly spread through your body as you struggled against whatever had you. With each movement, the pain became worse and worse; all you wanted to was scream but nothing came out.

What happened next was a blur. You remember feeling both as light as a feather and as heavy as a boulder. Whatever had a hold of you no longer did, rather, you had a hold of it. When you became fully aware again, you had a rock in your hand that was coated in blood. Pinned beneath you was a dead (Riot) demon. Its head and neck were barely distinguishable from the ground underneath it, smashed into a thick red pulp with bits of scales and other organs inside.

Terrified and revolted, you threw the rock at the mangled corpse in fright and stumbled upright, taking a few steps back; only to fall on your behind from a growing agonizing pain in your middle. Slowly, you looked down at your body to see what type of damage had been done. Your fingers shook as you lifted your tattered shirt.

Deep dark bruising had covered your entire body, however, it seems that your ribs and abdomen had taken the brunt of the damage. Each breath felt like someone was carving up your innards, making your chest tighten. If you’d had any food or anything within your stomach, you would have thrown up from how painful everything was; however, you were running on empty.

With a shaky and unsteady hand, you slowly touched your middle and winced. All you could think about was wanting to go home; curling up in bed with your siblings or with your parents. You began to cry once more and curled up into a fetal position on the ground.

After some time, you calmed back down and found yourself blankly staring at the nearby corpse. Slowly, you inched towards it; not standing but rather scooching over to it. Cautiously, you poked it and waited for it to spring back to life or something to happen; however, it just laid there. You grabbed its hand and looked at the claws on it.

If you couldn’t summon The Sparda, you needed a weapon. Despite your fear and the putrid feeling inching its way up your throat, you twisted the creature's fingers. Loud cracking and popping filled the air until you had several of the claws separated from the body.

You then had a horrible thought, “Is this edible?”

A grimace of disgust found its way to your face as you looked at the dead demon. You were starving, sure; but were you really going to eat that? Loud growling from your stomach answered your question for you. Closing your eyes, you used one of the claws to slice open the creature’s bicep and obtained several strips of flesh.

You opened your eyes cautiously. Your arms and hands were stained a sticky dark red-black and you had obtained what you needed. Another loud impatient growl came from your gut. A part of you wanted to just eat the raw meat but you were much too repulsed to do so. With your prize in hand and your repurposed claw-daggers, you slowly stood up and wandered off; trying to find one of the many open flames of this strange place.

Upon finding a small flame, you used one of the claws to hold the cutlets to cook. The environment smelt of brimstone and rot, however, the smell of the meat was quite pleasant. Perhaps it was because of how starved you were but you swear that it smelt of something between a steak and fresh chicken that had been seasoned with copious amounts of various peppers. Your mouth began to water, it smelt so good.

With a deep breath, you closed your eyes and placed a piece in your mouth--gagging instinctively. After several attempts, you managed to eat a full piece. It was tough and rubbery but it at least tasted as good as it smelt. After finishing your few pieces, you rested a while; letting the food settle. Once again, you found yourself crying and wanting your family; your Father in particular kept coming to mind.

“Why did he leave us?” A hiccup left your trembling lips as you held your painful middle, curling back up into a fetal position on the ground, “Why wasn’t he there to protect us?”

You cried for some time before taking a blackout nap. When you woke up, thankfully, nothing was trying to eat you and your middle seemed to have healed to some degree. With a deep breath, you stood and continued your aimless meandering.

Nothing interesting happened for some time. You had become quite the vagabond. You’d quickly learned how to survive in the harsh environment; living off of demon flesh and hell ice (for water). Although you never forgot about your family or the human world, you’d become rather comfortable here; a distant part of yourself wondered if this was where Sparda grew up.

As time went on, you began the early stages of--what could only be described as--a metamorphosis. From your elbows down, you had several rows of thick bronze scales, the same with the skin from your knees down. At first, you were scared and tore them from your skin. This quickly became much too painful for you to bare and you stopped trying to get rid of the re-growing scales.

Around ten you had developed scales throughout most of your body. Your hands and feet were completely covered in them now and had sharp claws instead of nails. You’d given up on clothing--or, rather, had none. After which, your body quickly developed scales on your chest, lower back, and entire hips; protecting you.

Your teeth had become much sharper and seemed much too large for your prepubescent mouth and would regularly cut your, still human, lips with them. The upside was you no longer had to cut the meat from corpses or had to cook it; you could consume it straight off the bone.

Finally, after almost three years of wandering, you’d found something. A large building that was crawling with demons. Despite your uneasy feeling, you had an intuitive feeling that this could be your way home, at least, maybe provide an idea of how to do so.

For a few weeks, you watched, waited, and schemed. Every few days, the demons would leave in mass and then return no sooner than a day later. So, you used that time to break in. Of course, there were still guards but that wasn’t an issue. You quickly killed every demon that crossed your path; from Empusas to Sargassos to Plasmas; nothing was too difficult for you to kill.

You’d made it to the deepest parts of the building, it was a throne room of sorts. There was a large seat in the middle of the far wall that was covered in scorched burn marks. The room itself was decorated rather elegantly and was tidy--something rather hard to come by in the Underworld. None of this concerned you, however; you just wanted what you came for. Making quick work of the room, you pillaged the entire space, digging into every nook and cranny. There was nothing. Frustrated hot tears welled up in your eyes as you realized this was a huge waste of time. Before you could leave, another horde had entered the room.

You turned to them and gave the group a once-over. It was a fairly large pack of random demons, nothing you hadn’t seen or couldn’t handle; but, there was something else--something nearby that felt much stronger than anything you’d faced so far.

Fearing the oddly dangerous presence, you made quick work of the demonic horde and bolted out the door. Upon reaching one of the lower rooms, the evil you felt earlier made itself known. A large grey skeletal devil stood in your way. In his right hand, was a large Viking sword, and on each side of him there were twin white wolves that had heavy chain collars. A chill ran up your spine and your stomach began to turn. For the first time in a long time, you were afraid.

As you tried to scrabble for a way to escape or a way to get past him, one of the wolves lunged at you.

Quickly you dodged out of the beast’s way only to find the second to be right in your face. You sliced at its face with your nails and cut it through one of its eyes, but it didn’t flinch. A loud crunch echoed through the room as you felt its teeth tear into your arm, right through your scales--breaking your bones. You grimaced and, in your anger, used the hand of said broken arm to grab the chain around its neck. With all the might you could muster, you threw the wolf into the first; knocking them off to the side.

Feeling the same terrifying devil’s power right behind you, you teleported out of the way and watched as the bony devil’s sword struck the floor where you had been standing. Your mind was reeling. It had been a long time since you had teleported and you were unable to control it. So, despite your best and most desperate effort, you couldn’t replicate it again to escape.

The wolves had stood back up and went for you once more, but you managed to sidestep both of them and used one as a jump pad; springing yourself at the skeleton. If you couldn’t leave then you are going to die trying. This action took the devil by surprise and allowed you to wrap yourself around his back. Your hands dug at his skull as you tried to pull it from his body; which, despite it not having a physical representation, was stubbornly strong.

Growing tired of these games, he grabbed you from his back and held you up; reading his sword. You struggled and growled, scratching at his arms and kicking wildly, waiting for the end of your journey. However it never came, rather, you found yourself stumbling forwards. It seems you had teleported again and, this time, you were right where you needed to be to run for the exit.

Confused as to what just happened, the devil did a double take before sicking his wolves upon you once more. The entire time you ran down the hall the twin wolves were practically nipping at your heels. Distantly you found yourself wondering if they were toying with you, enjoying the thrill of the hunt as you had done many times before--perhaps this is a sick form of karma?

Things came to a head when you reached the foyer of the building. In the room stood a fiery devil. You froze, inadvertently allowing the dogs to catch up with you. They tackled you to the floor and began to bite at your body while their claws dug into your middle. You shouted loudly as you did your best to fight against them, biting and scratching at them in return, but you were unsuccessful.

Unexpectedly, the dogs stopped, looked to the side, and removed themselves from your body; leaving you face up on the floor.

A part of you thought you had died, that this nightmare was finally coming to an end. In reality, however, the fiery devil had dismissed the dogs back to their owner and was standing above you. Although you know you should’ve been afraid, between the large wings and the gentle warm feeling their body gave off; you felt as if you’d met an angel. Then they began to speak in a language you didn’t understand.

“Bolverk,” they turned to look at the bony warrior from before, “Where are the others?”

“Lord Argosax, I-” he turned to look down at you, “I had sent a troop in to dispose of this vermin, but none returned.”

Their voice tilted in disbelief, “Really now?”

Your heart was racing as you sat up, a part of you wanted to run and hope to make it but you knew that this flaming devil was different somehow. Besides, you needed a moment to heal your wounds.

“You,” they turned to you, speaking in a tongue that you did understand, “What were you even attempting to gain by breaking in here? There are easier ways to die, I assure you.”

An aggressive furrow decorated your brow as you tried to speak, unsure of yourself since it had been many years since you’d done so, “Fuck you--!”

Instantly, you were kicked across the ribs and into a nearby wall. Blood dribbled out of your mouth as you fell back to the floor, laying face down.

“Such a shame,” a sound of footsteps and slight sizzling told you that the fire devil had moved beside you, “You would’ve been quite the addition to my cause.”

Everything went dark. Then you took a deep gasping breath, despite your current situation of being impaled, you were still very much alive.

You slowly got up, moving to a push-up, sitting on your calves, kneeling, then stumbling to a stand leaning against the wall. A glint caught your eye as you looked down, the bony devil’s Viking sword had been plunged through your chest cavity, straight through your heart. With a grimace and a groan, you pulled the blade from your body and held it at the fiery devil’s neck; a crazed look in your eyes and a thunderous growling from your chest.

You’d expected a fight or some sort of violence, however, that couldn’t have been further from what happened.

Rather, the fiery devil lightly ran its finger along the blade, “What a feisty brat,” if they’d had a mouth, you’re sure they would’ve been smirking, “No wonder you managed to make it in here; a power like that is quite rare,” they grabbed the sword and melted it, “To make others feel the attacks that are done against you... I only know of one other devil that could pull that off.”

Although you were radiating confidence, you couldn’t have been more doubtful of your skills. Right now, you were completely and hopelessly outmatched. As the fiery devil melted the sword, your shoulders tensed as you heard a noise to your left; dodging instinctively.

One of the wolves had been sent after you again. You grabbed the wolf’s scruff and bit down through it; piercing its hide. It yelped and thrashed about but you dug your teeth further into its flesh, gripping onto it hard enough to pull its front paws off the ground.

“Bolverk,” the flaming devil stood and looked to the swordsman, “Call off your dog; I wasn’t in any danger,” they turned their attention to you, “Can you release Geri?”

Your lip twitched as you let out a low rumbling growl. After a moment of thought, you did as you were asked.

“Good, you are smarter than I thought,” they moved in front of you, “Now, what is a child of Sparda doing here?”

Another low growl left your lips at that name, Sparda. You’d conditioned yourself to hate your Father, blaming him for everything that you’d been put through.

“This is Mundus’s fault, isn’t it?” They took their forefinger and placed it underneath your chin, tilting your face up to look at his, “You’ve been here since Sparda’s demise, haven’t you?”

You recoiled your head from his touch and took a few steps backward.

“My name is Argosax; I’m sure Sparda told you a story about how evil myself and Mundus are, didn’t he?”

“I don’t know and I don’t care,” your voice was low and your eyes remained on their face, unblinking.

“Well then,” Argosax took a step towards you, “If you’d allow me, I would like to know more about you and what has happened; perhaps I can help you attain your revenge--that is what you are seeking, right?” Their voice was gentle however it had a sinister feeling deeply woven beneath it.

“Revenge…” your brow softened ever-so-slightly, “No.”

They sighed, “If you are looking for your family then I’m sad to say but,” they placed a hand on your shoulder, “they are all dead.”

Your gut dropped and your eyes widened as you shook your head ‘no’ backing up till you hit the wall, “No, you are wrong; they are still alive, I just need to get to them.”

Argosax clicked his tongue quietly, “I am afraid that they are all gone; the fire took them. The fire that happened because of Sparda--for Mundus to send a message.”

You ground your teeth and clenched your fists tight enough that your palms began to bleed, “Because of…” your lip twitched as you felt a hot burning sensation fill your body.

“Mhm,” Argosax bent down slightly and was at face level with you, “Don’t fret; I can help you obtain all that you desire,” your eyes snapped open, noticing that the room had become engulfed in magenta-colored flames--courtesy of your angry outburst, “All I ask in return is for you to swear your servitude to me,” they stuck out their hand, waiting for you to seal the deal.

Admittedly, you were hesitant but you weren’t stupid; it was either accept this deal or Argosax would kill you. What choice did you truly have? Cautiously, you reached your hand out and grabbed theirs. Marking the worst mistake of your entire life.

Over the years you had lost all of what little humanity you had retained; you couldn’t even remember how to speak anything besides basic Greek or Latin. The training was harsh, borderline unbearable, but you kept going. Your intense hatred for Sparda pushed you over the edge and there was no returning.

Quickly you had become the strongest devil in Argosax’s ranks, only being surpassed by them and, their right-hand knight, Bolverk. Your heritage was quite apparent even just by looking at you. No human parts remained, you were fully outfitted in your (Sin) Devil Trigger. Although it wasn’t exact, your form had many similarities with your Father’s, many distinctive things--such as his hooves, knees, or horns.

Because of how strong you’d become there wasn’t much left for you to learn, so Bolverk and, to some degree, Argosax began to train you. The brutality from the two was like nothing you’d even been through. Perhaps it was because they wanted you to be a perfect warrior or perhaps it was rooted in their deep-set hatred for Sparda; regardless, they tortured you more than they taught you.

Any little mistake would put you in what was nicknamed “The Chamber”. Within those four sound-proof walls many vile things happened to you, from things as simple as being starved for weeks on end to much more physically abusive things; you’d been through it all. During this time, Argosax did most of the more extreme punishments.

However, despite that, you retained your respect for Argosax; whether it had to do with the deal or an odd form of Stockholm syndrome, you weren’t sure. Every time they’d punish you, you’d almost get off to it; it was as sickening as it was alluring. In your endless torment, you’d convinced yourself that Argo was doing this out of love, out of compassion, for you and your situation. Something that they played into. Telling you that they loved you and that you loved them; however, none of that was true. It was all just to keep you within their pocket and use whenever they needed.

“Dante!” Vergil shouted at his twin, snapping Dante out of the horrifying implications in the journal before him, “Any time now-!” Vergil rolled out of the way, barely missing the bronze devil’s attack.

“R-right, sorry!” The red devil shook his head and shut the book, “Vergil, you know Greek right?”

“Of course,” Vergil growled loudly, shooting Ebony at the aggressor's eyes; unsure of what else to do at this point.

“Well, I think--”

“Just get to the point!”

“They don’t know English anymore.”

Vergil let out a low nearly inaudible whine as he landed near his twin with a small stumble, “So what, you want me to read?”

“Not read, just talk.”

“If you don’t think I haven’t tried that--”

“Tell them Argosax is dead.”

A small confused tilt adorned Vergil’s brow before he shook his head with a sigh, “Fine. Not like we’ve got much else to go on.”

The bronze devil waited for the twins to attack again; radiating a sickly amount of cocky confidence.

Vergil slowly approached and spoke calmly, “Are you waiting for Argosax to return?” It took a step back in confusion at Vergil’s words, “They are dead and have been for a very long time.”

With a loud huff, the devil responded in a low, rough voice, “No, they will return; who are you to tell me otherwise?”

The eldest twin shook his head, “As far as I or anyone else is concerned, Argosax has been dead for nearly two decades; they’re nothing but ashes in the wind.”

“No!” Its voice reverberated throughout the structure as it slammed The Sparda into the ground, “They can’t be-- No one has that kind of power.”

Vergil raised a brow and folded his arms, “Really now? Are you aware that any of us could beat Argosax or Mundus? The three of us are much stronger than any of them; surely you knew that you could’ve defeated Argo yourself..?”

The devil took a step back and looked between the twins, “You speak as if you know about me; when you have no clue who I--”

“ ‘So Fuzon call’d all together/The remaining children of Urizen:/And they left the pendulous earth:/They called it Egypt, & left it./And the salt ocean rolled englob’d.’. Does that ring a bell?”

It took another few steps back, “I-- How,” it shook its head, “Are you mocking me?”

“I don’t mock, I only wish to remind you of yourself; of your humanity.”

“I am no human,” it placed a hand back on the grip of The Sparda, “Humanity has no place within me, Lord Argosax told--”

“Then where did your items in your pocket dimension come from? Where did the book that Dante has come from?” Vergil gestured to the devil’s forehead, “Where did that sapphire pendant come from?”

It said nothing.

“I understand if you have taken issue with our Father but,” Vergil sighed, “Our Mother, Eva, had nothing to do with that day; it wasn’t her fault. So why denounce her side?”

The devil yanked The Sparda back out from the floor and spook in an aggressive manner, “You do not know anything, I was shown the truth,” it lunged at the twins, who split apart and dodged the attack.

“By whom? That manipulative bastard Argosax?” Vergil’s voice became louder, “Perhaps I could tell you the truth that Mundus showed me? The fabricated story of how Sparda was responsible for our Mother’s death and for us three being split apart.”

It swung the sword wanting nothing more than for Vergil to shut up, “Silence!”

The eldest’s voice was filled with an ever-increasing aggravation and vexation. Now, lost within his own thoughts he had stopped speaking in Greek, “How that traitor Sparda shouldn’t have sullied demon blood with a human womb?! How he could’ve used a child with some grit?!”

Dante’s eyes widened upon hearing what his brother was saying. All he could do was stare in disbelief and with mouth agape in shock, this was no longer aimed at their youngest sibling; no, Vergil was being swept away by his own memories.

Vergil darted at the devil, leaving a cloud of dust and cracked tile where he stood, “Do you honestly think that Argosax wanted anything more than a puppet? A pet with the name Sparda attached to it?”

The pair interlocked swords and ground against one another in a hold. The blue devil’s eyes had a crazed expression; a mixture of a primal devilish wickedness and a deep-rooted terror that sent a very distinctive chill up Dante’s spine--the same feeling he got seeing what happened to his brother after Mundus.

In Vergil’s anger, he unintentionally used his Sin Trigger and snarled at the bronze devil, “Argosax was no different than Mundus; they were playing savior to a disgraceful weak half-human offspring,” Vergil stood eye to eye with the bronze devil, “Tell me, do you still remember yourself or have you lost it with all that putrid shit Argosax told you?!”

They froze at Vergil’s sudden overwhelming anger, giving the blue devil a chance to tackle them to the ground, pinning them.

“I know you can understand me,” his wings flared out behind him as his tail flicked around, “Answer me!” His claws dug deep into the bronze devil’s arms.

The pinned devil opened its mouth but said nothing. Despite Vergil piercing their hide, it didn’t use its power to make Vergil hurt; no, it just laid there and stared. After a few minutes, Dante slowly crept closer and peered over Vergil’s body to see what was going on.

The blue devil’s claws had dug far enough into the bronze devil’s flesh that his fingertips were inside their arm. Despite this, the pair just were just staring at each other. The bronze devil wasn’t struggling or trying to move; the only thing it did was wince when Vergil shoved his claws further.

Another few minutes passed. Dante had begun debating if he needed to step in and separate them, however, this was quickly answered.

A loud snarl of a cry came from Vergil as he de-triggered. His eyes were filled with tears and he had enough running down his face that they were collecting at his chin, dripping down onto the pinned devil. He wanted to say something, anything, but only managed a weak, “Please,” that was followed by a voice crack.

Dante placed a gentle hand on his twin’s shoulder, “Vergil…”

“Ver-gil?” The twins could see the gears turning in the devil’s head as it tried to place the name before its gaze slowly turned to Dante, “You are Da-nte then..?” It turned its gaze back to Vergil, and with a slight pause, it let out a low exhale, “My brothers..?”

Vergil’s fingers tightened on the devil’s arm, making it flinch, “Yes.”

The younger twin grabbed Vergil’s shoulder again, this time sternly, “Verge, stop--”

“How-,” The devil’s gaze flicked between the two, “How are you still alive? More importantly,” the devil sat up, making Vergil sit on its lap in the process, “What are you doing here? If Lord Argosax truly is dead then the Underworld will be in ruins; you two are in immense danger.”

Dante stared at Vergil for translation, but only got to hear Vergil’s response… That was also unintelligible to the red devil, “Who do you think killed such vermin? We aren’t in danger, only lost.”

“Lost..?”

With a nod, he let out a heavy wet sigh hoping to re-compose himself, “Yes,” Vergil carefully removed his fingers, a thick line of blood connecting him to the open heavily-bleeding wounds, “We are trying to get home and Yamato can do so but-”

“You need a place close to the human world?”

Vergil nodded and stood up, assisted by Dante. He looked up, “I don’t know if this place will work anymore…”

The entire top six floors were missing and you all were staring at the open sky.

“Ah, sorry about that,” you sighed, “I can escort you to another pinch-point if you would like?”

“There aren’t any others close by.”

You laughed and stretched out your wings, “I am faster than you’d believe.”

“Ehem!” Dante put his free hand in his pocket, still holding the scrapbook in the other, “Care to share? Or are you two like shit-talking me or somethin’?”

You stumbled over your words a bit, still struggling on how to say your brothers’ names, “I first want my book back, Dante,” you stuck your hand out, waiting.

“Uh…”

Vergil wiped his blood-stained fingers off on his coat, “They want their book back.”

“Oh! Sure thing, here,” Dante placed the book in your hand; which you held up and it disappeared, returning to your small dimension of valuables.

“So…” Dante walked over to his coat that, thankfully, had fallen with the floors but wasn’t any more damaged than it already was, “What’s the plan?”

Vergil straightened his coat, “They are going to take us to a new place; this one is no longer suitable for Yamato to work.”

The younger twin sighed, “So, how long is this walk going to be?”

You scooped up both brothers, holding one in each arm, as they wrapped themselves tightly to your neck.

“Verge,” Dante looked to his twin.

“Hm?”

“We sure this is a good idea? I mean, they were just beating the shit out of both of us..?”

Vergil did a slow turn to the red devil, “I destroyed an entire city and threatened the entire human race, again… Then you decided to come down here with me… How is this any different?”

“Fair, I umphf-!”

You abruptly turned to the left, making both twins jolt violently within your arms, “There,” your wings stretched out wide before you neatly dug your heels into the ground, “Hold on tight.”

With that, you flew straight up and felt both brothers tighten their grip tenfold. You took a moment to stabilize yourself since you aren’t used to having all the extra weight. Then, there was a thunderous clap. Both twins flinched at the ungodly loud noise, especially since neither of them was used to such noise from flying. Although you’d told Vergil that you were fast, breaking the sound barrier wasn’t exactly what he imagined.

It didn’t take long for the three of you to find the new pinch-point. Once again, it was a structure within Argosax’s domain. You landed on the roof and placed your siblings down. Both of them were dazed and Dante actually had leaned over to throw up (which he had nothing to purge so he just dry heaved).

You gave them both a curious look, “Are you alright?”

Vergil looked at you and unknowingly yelled in response, “What?!”

“I see, never mind,” you waved a hand in dismissal and waited for the twins to return to normal; however, the three of you were paid some company.

Both brothers readied themselves but, once more, you raised a hand, “Allow me, the two of you need to return to a stable condition before you leave.”

The horde was nothing more than a sneeze of a challenge to you. You didn’t even need to use The Sparda; no, all you needed was your hands. It was times like these that you had grown to cherish during your time here in the Underworld; times where you could let loose, to rip and tear without any repercussions. You took only a minute to desolate the horde, finishing by ripping out a Fury’s throat with your teeth.

You turned to your brothers, gore still hanging in your mouth, and waved shyly. The expression on both of their faces was a mixture of impressed and horrified--Dante was mostly just horrified. You sucked the bits of flesh that were in your teeth into your mouth, eating them.

“That’s,” Dante stared at the floor unable to look at you, “I’ve seen some gross shit but--”

“It is the way of the world down here,” Vergil ran a hand through his hair, “Eat or be eaten.”

“You ever have to..?”

“No,” Vergil shook his head, “Nelo did not require food.”

“Huh, really? How’s that work?”

Vergil turned to his twin, “Perhaps I can explain more at a later date. For now, we have a more pressing engagement.”

Dante nodded, “ ‘Suppose you’re right.”

The twins walked over to you, who was currently gnawing on the last Fury’s corpse. A quiet “Ehem” from Vergil caught your attention and you stopped eating.

“Sorry,” you stood up, “Are you two ready to go?”

Vergil raised a brow with folded arms, “You mean us three? If you think we are going to leave you down here then you are mistaken.”

Your eye flicked between the pair, “I do not know if that is--”

Vergil huffed lightly, “This isn’t up for discussion, as the oldest child and the one who is making the path home; I have the final say,” his arms relaxed to his sides, “You are coming with us.”

In an almost shy manner, you wiped your face using one of your forearms; doing your best to clean yourself, “Can you make a portal that can handle all three of us? Yamato’s original use was only for one at a time.”

A confident smug smirk tugged at Vergil’s lips, “Trust me when I say,” he removed the blade from its scabbard, “I can do much more with Yamato than anyone knows.”

Dante moved to stand next to you, grabbing your hand, and he mumbled quietly, “You’re gonna like the human world, I promise.”

Before you could respond, Vergil sliced open a large plus-shaped hole; opening a large portal. He looked at the two of you before grabbing Dante’s free hand, “Tread lightly and keep close to me.”

The two of you nodded, making sure to keep hold of one another, and traversed through the portal.

Once on the other side, the three of you found yourself in the middle of a snowy pine forest. You hissed loudly at how ungodly bright it was and covered your eyes. Dante stretched his arms up with a loud groan and then flopped face-first into the thick snow.

His voice was muffled as he laid, unmoving, “Nap time.”

Before Vergil or you could protest, Dante was already snoring.

Vergil let out a content sigh, a small smile adorning his face, as he sat down in the snow. You joined him, cautiously sitting in the snow. After a few moments, you tried to relax and allowed your wings to lay flat behind you on the snow, sending a shiver up your spine.

After some time, Vergil ended up curling up in the snow; which, a half-asleep Dante proceeded to smother by wrapping himself around his twin. If this had been any other situation or context, Vergil would have gutted Dante on the spot--that is if Vergil allowed himself to sleep in the first place. However, both of them were exhausted from who knows how long they’d been traveling.

You, on the other hand, were wide awake. Sleep had become something you couldn’t afford to do when working under such circumstances. A small sad, almost envious, feeling pricked at the edges of your mind as you watched the fast-asleep two-person pile.

They slept for several hours and Dante at one point even offer (and beckoned) for you to join their cozy pile; however, you shook your head. Keeping them safe was all that you had in mind; something you’d wanted to do since they were taken from you.

Once fully healed and mostly rested, the twins decided to figure out what the next course of action would be.

Dante sighed, “What I wouldn’t give for some food right about now--”

You stood up, “I can get something! I’ll be right back.”

Vergil snickered slightly, “That’s not what he means, however, that is a nice--”

It was too late, you’d already run off into the woods.

“Hey!” Dante went to chase after you only to be stopped by Vergil grabbing his arm.

“They are going to bring back food,” Vergil shook his head and spoke quietly, “What that food is or what that means, I’m not sure.”

“Let’s just hope that doesn’t mean that they are going to hunt humans…”

After a moment of silence, Vergil reached to his lower back and pulled something out, “Here,” he held out Ebony, “I do not wish to use this any longer.”

“Alright,” Dante grabbed the gun and put it back in its holster, “If you ever wanna use ‘em again,” he winked, “Just lemme know.”

Vergil rolled his eyes. They sat in comfortable silence for a while, Dante resting his eyes and Vergil looking over Yamato for any damage or filth to clean.

“Hey, Verge, why can’t we just use that again,” he gestured to Yamato, “to get back to Red Grave.”

“I need to know where we are to use Yamato correctly,” Vergil mindlessly tapped his fingers on the scabbard.

“So we need to find a town or something then…” Dante sighed as he flopped face up into the snow, arms spread out, “Wonderful.”

Vergil turned over his shoulder to look at Dante, “I do not see what the problem is with that?”

The red devil’s brow furrowed, “Really?” The eldest gave no response, “Verge, we look like shit, we are covered in blood, and who knows what else-- we probably smell horrid- and we are traveling with an over seven-foot tall devil,” his eyes went back to staring up at the sky; however, instead of the sky, his gaze was met with a dead Elk. To say Dante jumped would be an understatement.

The blue devil raised a brow, “I see you’ve returned?”

You nodded. The dead creature was supported by your arms, however, your teeth were still deep within its neck.

“Dante,” Vergil turned to his now calm sibling, “Can you make a fire?”

“Sure, I--”

Instantly, there was a small magenta fire in front of them and they turned back to you; who, even if you couldn’t properly emote it, they could tell was smiling.

The twins helped you cut apart the meat, you’d long forgotten how to properly process an animal. Then using The Sparda’s spines, you hooked the meat up over the fire to cook.

“Alright, I gotta ask,” Dante looked at you as he cocked his head in curiosity, “Why didn’t you have The Sparda before..?”

“Because I couldn’t summon it between realms, my pocket dimension is different and transcends such physical limitations.”

Dante stared at you in confusion before Vergil translated for him, “Ah, I see.”

As the meat cooked, the twins and you shared stories; both good and bad. Admittedly, this was the most you’d spoken since your last time seeing the twins; the most you’d spoken in over three decades.

The venison was unseasoned and cooked unevenly but was still rather tasty. It took you a few tries to get it down, not because it was bad or anything, but because it was much different than a demon’s meat.

It was nearly midnight by the time you’d all finished eating. Dante and you ate most of it, Vergil isn’t used to eating more than a few scraps but he made sure to eat a decent chunk. You snuffed out the fire and put The Sparda away, as you did so the twins had curled back together and were sleeping. All you could do was stare at them.

As the weeks went on the three of you hadn’t found any sign of where you were, only seeing a few unoccupied hunting tree stands and abandoned campsites. Dante and Vergil had begun to re-teach you how to speak English (or rather remind you.). It took a while for you to re-grasp the language but you were able to finally communicate with both siblings, no longer relying on Vergil to be your translator.

At one point the three of you found a small lake. In a blink, Dante was nude and was easing his way into the cold bath. His arms were held close to his body with his fists in front of his chest, shivering heavily and saying various things; such as, “Holy shit that’s cold,”

“Are you going to join him?” You asked a very unamused Vergil.

“Are you?”

The question caught you off guard, “Am… I?” You paused in thought for a moment, “It has been so long since I’ve seen water like this,” you let out a low growling laugh, “I don’t know if I remember how to swim.”

Vergil began to strip off his blood-soaked clothing, placing it in a neat pile next to Dante’s disheveled mess, “Then that makes two of us.”

Your head moved back a bit in surprise, before you could question him, Vergil moved to join Dante in the lake.

The blue devil’s shoulders shot up to his ears as he hissed from the freezing temperature. Dante was already comfortable enough that he was swimming around. A wicked smirk decorated his face as he snuck over to Vergil and splashed water up at him. Vergil’s body arched from the sudden icy feeling, cursing Dante in the process.

The younger twin’s laughter died down when he got a better look at Vergil’s bare skin, “Hey,” his fingers lightly touched Vergil’s back, who instinctively flinched away, “What..?”

Without meeting Dante’s eyes he mumbled, “I don’t want to talk about it.”

Unsure how to help, Dante grabbed his twin into a vice grip of a hug; despite the eldest’s protests.

All the while you watched from the shore. Slowly you’d inched your hooves into the water, but you hadn’t moved since then. A part of you wondered what Vergil had meant by telling you that he might not know how to swim either; combine that with the abhorrent scarring on his back, and you were more than confused.

“Hey!” Dante yelled over to you, “You coming in? The water’s nice~!” He let out a hardy laugh.

You looked down at the rolling liquid, unsure if you should. That’s when you felt something push you. When you whipped around, you saw that Vergil’s doppelgänger was behind you and it pushed you again.

Dante noticed and began to laugh harder as Vergil had a warm smile tugging at his lips. Slowly but surely the apparition made you enter the water. It wasn’t warm per se, but your body was hot enough that the temperature of the entire lake shifted up several degrees. The twins both washed themselves as you played with the water like a small child. You’d set your hand on the top and slowly push it down, feeling the surface of it give way to your scaled digits.

Having already finished cleaning himself, Dante swam over to you and splashed you. In shock, you shot downwards; submerging yourself. Under the water, you saw so much that you’d never seen before. Little fish that were playing with each other, small crabs that you put your hand out to and they pinched your fingers, several different types of vegetation, and many colorful stones. You felt something tug the end of your wing and resurfaced, seeing that Dante and Vergil were staring at you.

“Thought I made you drown, heh…” Dante placed a hand on the back of his neck, “Sor--!”

You used your wings to splash him--and Vergil by accident. The three of you engaged in a water fight, splashing and rough-housing with one another. It was fun, right up until the three of you heard a loud crunch from the embankment.

A large polar bear was standing at the edge, watching you. Curious as to what it was, you got up and out of the water; despite both siblings telling you to stop. Upon reaching it, you stuck your hand out to pet it when it bit you. Enraged at the sudden act of aggression, you killed it. Then, you stared at the body horrified at what you’d just done. You flipped your gaze to your brothers who stared back, Dante was the only one that had any expression and he was just as horrified as you.

Vergil walked out of the water and placed a hand on your shoulder, “It is alright, accidents happen.”

Without another word, you placed a hand on the dead bear, petting its soft blood-stained fur. Carefully, you incinerated the carcass. The twins got dressed and the three of you headed back on your way, never bringing up the incident again.

Another week passed and the three of you finally found a small town.

“Alright,” Dante said, getting up off the downed tree that he’d been using as a resting spot, “You two stay here and I’ll go get some info.”

“Are you sure you do not want me to accompany you?” Vergil raised a brow.

“Nah, I’ll be fine. Besides,” Dante looked over to you, “Someone needs to stay with ‘em.”

Vergil’s gaze joined Dante’s and watched as you were intently watching a caterpillar as it inched along, your wings flapping a bit in excitement. The two smiled softly. Although you were a rather twisted version of the child they once knew, seeing you partake in such innocent things made them both feel happy.

A short pause later, Dante slapped Vergil on the shoulder, “Alright, I’ll be back later,” he leaned over and whispered just loud enough for Vergil to hear, “Try to keep them from killing anything or anyone, yeah?”

“Of course,” the blue devil folded his arms, “I am still the eldest, I know how to take care of my siblings.”

“Had me convinced otherwise--”

Vergil jabbed Dante in the gut with his elbow.

The younger twin left, waving goodbye to you--who was much too enamored with the small bug to notice.

“That is called an Arctic Woolly Bear caterpillar,” Vergil meandered over to you with his hands folded behind his back, “They are quite common in North America.”

You looked over at him, “Is it dangerous?”

He shook his head, “No, they are harmless,” gently, the blue devil picked up your hand, “Open your palm and do not shut it,” you watched as he placed the small fuzzy bug in your hand.

A quiet purring could be heard from you as you watched it crawl on your hand, Vergil still holding the underside in case you accidentally shut your fingers.

“They do not have these in Hell… I wish they did.”

Vergil laughed softly, “I know, I am quite knowledgeable about how things work down there.”

“How?”

The eldest twin’s face fell into a somber frown, “Here, let’s let the little creature go first,” he grabbed it from your hand and placed it back where he had grabbed it from. He sat on the ground, gesturing for you to do the same, “I cannot tell you everything just yet, however,” he paused and stared at the ground in front of him, “I can tell you about my time serving Mundus.”

You tilted your head, “I remember you mentioned something about that when we were fighting.”

He nodded, “I was forced to serve Mundus after I foolishly tried to defeat him, alone,” you watched as Vergil’s brow furrowed further and further with each sentence, “I knew it was a bad move but what other choice did I have?”

You grabbed one of his hands, giving it a gentle squeeze.

He gave a small half-hearted smile and took a minute before continuing, “In my arrogance and desire for power, I ended up being defeated by Mundus. Who proceeded to take my humanity from me, entombing me within armor made by Machiavelli…”

Your body stiffened, “In the Nelo Angelo?”

“You know of it?”

“I was taught about Devil Arms and Machiavelli’s work was somewhat of an obsession of Lord Argosax.”

“I see,” Vergil’s posture slumped forwards a bit, bringing his shoulders to his ears, “I spent nearly ten years trapped like that.”

“I am surprised that we never met.”

“Mundus was smarter than that,” Vergil’s voice was quiet, almost meek, “Seeing Dante and his amulet half nearly broke the hold it had on me, but after so long I…”

He went silent. You wanted to know more but you could also see how distressed your brother had become, even if it didn’t look like it from an outside view. So, not knowing what else to do, you manhandled him into your lap and embraced him; holding him tightly and wrapping your wings around the two of you--cocooning you together.

Although you couldn’t fully understand the pain and suffering that the eldest son of Sparda had gone through, you could relate to some degree. At first, he pushed you away and tried to escape, which he could’ve done if he had wanted; however, he didn’t. No, Vergil wanted to be comforted--to be held--but was much too proud to admit it, especially to Dante.

Vergil’s cursing slowly turned to soft sobs. His shoving turned to a vice grip, grabbing you as tightly as possible. All the while, you were purring and telling him that things will be alright now. You made small circles on his upper back, mimicking what Eva used to do when any of you were upset. Underneath the fabric, you could feel the scarring you saw earlier; the deep chasms that turned his once identical body into something so far off from his twin--something that secretly pained the eldest twin.

After some time, Vergil’s cries ceased and he just quietly sat within your gentle hold; relishing in an affection he had long since forgotten. He quietly murmured something against your chest, “I’m glad you’re still alive.”

A pang of bittersweet shot through you, those words that were said to you many times when you were young. Words of endearment.

Softly, you whispered back, “I’m glad too,” you gently squeezed him, “I love you lots, Vergil.”

He let out a wet half-hearted laugh, tears welling at the edges of his eyes, “To think this was something any of us could only have merely dreamed of for so long,” his fingers gently grabbed your hand, intertwining them, “to be back together as a family.”

“I wouldn’t trade you both for the world,” your voice was low and soft, doing your best to sound as human as possible, “All I wanted was to have my brothers back…” now it was your turn to let out a huffed laugh on the verge of tears--or what would be tears if you could cry in this form, “I threw everything away in the pursuit of avenging the two of you--and Mother.”

“It’s almost poetic that the most hot-headed of the three of us would be the only one not to blindly follow something to the point of destruction,” this, of course, was in reference to Dante; a child who would regularly get in massive trouble for doing things he shouldn’t be doing.

The two of you shared a small laugh before a third voice broke the conversation.

“Hey! I’m back!” Dante waved to you as you unfurled your wings, letting Vergil out.

“Well,” Vergil stood, folding his arms, “Where are we then.”

“Here,” the red devil handed him a map, “Up in Northern Canada, I guess.”

“I see,” Vergil looked over the large North American map, finding Red Grave, and sighing heavily, “The trip through the portal will be rough and long, it is quite a distance to travel.”

“Eh,” Dante shrugged, “I’m sure we’ll all be fine.”

Vergil looked back at you, who had stood up as well, “Are you ready to go home?”

You looked at the ground for a moment in thought, “Home…” Before nodding slowly.

“Alright,” Vergil looked over the map one more time before handing it to Dante, “I will take us back to the house.”

“Why not Devil May Cry?” Dante raised a brow, stuffing the map inside an inner jacket pocket.

“Because I don’t know where that is,” he unsheathed Yamato and took a deep breath.

As the blue devil opened the portal, you moved towards Dante and grabbed his hand, whispering, “I don’t want to lose you.”

The red devil’s eyes widened as he turned up to you, unsure how to vocalize the sudden warm feeling in his heart; so, he squeezed your hand hard and smiled.

Vergil slid Yamato back into its scabbard, “Let’s go,” he stuck out a hand, which Dante grabbed tightly.

The three of you walked through the gap in dimensions. A portal created by Yamato is essentially a pocket dimension with extra steps; however, it can be used to transport the one who opened it as well--not just the items within.

It took what felt like a few minutes for the three of you when, in reality, it took nearly an entire day to traverse such a wide span. Once on the other side, the three of you stood within the destroyed remnants of your childhood home. You were the first to let go of your siblings and began to wander towards the mantle.

Upon it was the family painting. It was burnt beyond recognition. Although Eva was almost perfectly preserved and the twins’ were semi-damaged, Sparda and yourself were tattered to the point of not knowing what you looked like. You carefully reached toward the canvas and placed your fingers on the place you used to be. Perhaps it is some sort of pathetic irony that the only one who died in that fire is the only one whose portrait wasn’t damaged. The only one who was truly a saint amongst devils.

“Hey,” Dante gently touched your wing, making you flinch and pivot around, “Are you okay?”

You froze at the odd question. Were you? After everything that’s happened, are you still truly the same sibling they used to know? The same child that was eternalized in those oil paints? Or are you some sort of out-of-place and unwelcomed creature? Do you really belong up here with humans or should you still be in that crumbling building, waiting to be rescued by someone who will never come?

Dante grabbed your hand, “Let’s go to my shop, it is where I’ve been living since I was a teen,” he smiled softly, “I’m sure you’ll like it.”

A small whimpered huff came from you as you tightened your fingers around your brother’s.

“Wait,” Vergil folded his arms, “Perhaps it would be best for Dante to go first and see who is all at the shop? I do not wish for your first interaction with your nephew to be one of violence.”

Nephew?

Dante nodded, “Fair point, alright-- Fine, I’ll go make sure the ol’ beaut is shining and perfect.”

Vergil rolled his eyes, “If it is anything like it was when you first moved in,” he sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose, “It is a disaster.”

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad and besides,” Dante let go of your hand, “It was your fault it got trashed in the first place, Verge.”

“Are you sure about that, Mister “Let me kick down my own doors”?”

“The shop was ruined already-- Look we can debate this later, I want to go get this done and finally get some good rest.”

“Fine, just,” Vergil grumbled, “be careful.”

“Aw, what was that oh sweet big brother of mine? Urk-!” Dante grabbed his shoulder which had a small blue sword stuck in his bicep.

The youngest twin waved goodbye and, once he turned back away from you both, used his Devil Trigger to get to the shop faster.

Once he got within the city limits, Dante de-Triggered and began to sprint down the sidewalk. The air was nice and cool, making Dante’s run feel rather rejuvenating; plus, it had begun to rain. It was late and not a soul was in sight, so Dante used Trickster to move even faster. He couldn’t wait to get home, to show both Vergil and you the shop. He joyfully hopped up the stairs and knocked on the doors.

No response. “Huh…” He peered around the corner and saw that the foyer lights were on, so he knocked again. This time, however, it was fast and hard; making sure to be as loud as he could without breaking the door.

The door slowly opened just a crack and a sleepy man's voice simply said, “We’re closed.”

Dante laughed, “Well, then, guess I’ll have to come home tomorrow then.”

There was silence. The door didn’t move, staying open just a crack. Dante could hear the heart rate of the man spike upon hearing those words. As if he were afraid to see, the door inched open; revealing a very disheveled-looking Nero.

“Man, I thought that I needed a haircu--umphf-!” Dante felt the air leave his lungs.

Nero grabbed his uncle into a tight hug, gripping handfuls of Dante’s jacket. Hot bitter tears ran down his face as he sobbed into the red devil’s neck.

Dante lovingly clasped his arms around the young man, “I missed you too, Nero.”

“I thought that,” his voice cracked, “that you weren’t going to come back.”

“And leave you to carry on the family business all by your lonesome? Not a chance,” he pulled back out of the hug, firmly holding Nero’s shoulders, “Look, I know that I have no right to ask you but, can you do me a favor? Just for tonight.”

The teal devil’s voice was apprehensive, having a feeling as to what was going to be said, “What?”

“Verge is with me,” he heard Nero sigh, “The two of you can settle things tomorrow… I need the shop to be calm tonight, please?”

“Why?” Nero didn’t mean to be so blunt but he couldn’t help but be a bit salty.

“Because,” Dante smiled, closing his eyes, “I’ve got a surprise family member for you to meet; I think they’d be called a ‘Pibling’..?”

“You and Vergil have another sibling? Since when?”

“Since they were born.”

Nero punched Dante’s shoulder harshly, “Very funny asshole.”

“Just promise me you’ll be nice? Please?”

“Alright, alright,” Nero sighed and wiped the few stray tears from his face, “So where are they?”

“I gotta go get ‘em. Unlock the garage door, yeah?”

“Sure,” Dante turned to leave before Nero called out to him, “Wait!” Nero stepped out of the shop and stood face-to-face with Dante.

They stood in silence for a moment before Dante softly sighed, “I promise I’ll be right back,” Dante ruffled up Nero’s hair.

Vergil sighed, resting on the partially still intact staircase, “It was an accident.”

You gave Vergil a sorrowful stare, “Have you told Dante about--”

“No,” the blue devil’s voice was sharp, “and you are not to tell him either,” he sighed and placed his forearms on his thighs, “Nero has been through enough, knowing that his mother did that… It would only make things worse.”

With a small nod, you looked up at the sky. It had begun to rain. The water was cold as you watched it fall, this had been the first time you’d seen rain since returning to the human world. You flinched for a few minutes from the droplets hitting your scales, however, you got accustomed to them bit by bit. After some time, you stood up and spread out your wings, watching the water roll off the tips and onto the desolated flooring of your childhood home.

Vergil watched from his seat with an amused smirk. Once again, the fact you seemed to be so innocent and child-like despite what happened piqued his interest. Upon seeing you shake off like a wet dog, he couldn’t help but laugh.

Noticing your brother’s odd reaction, you stared at him and watched as his face became flushed with embarrassment, turning away. Much to the blue devil’s ease, Dante appeared before you could question him.

“Alright kids,” Dante was standing in his Triggered form, his hands on his hips, “Let’s go, shall we?”

Both Dante and you stared a Vergil, waiting for him to Trigger.

After a few moments, Vergil stood up, “Fine…” A flash of cornflower blue filled the room and there stood Vergil in his regular Devil Trigger.

Dante wolf-whistled, “Been a while since I’ve seen you like that--Lookin’ good tiger,” he winked just to top off the corny line.

“Silence,” he glared at Dante, making you laugh slightly.

The three of you took off, the red devil leading the trio. It was difficult for you to travel at such low speeds, which made you almost hit both brothers several times during the flight. Often you’d find that you’d need to stop and wait before continuing, giving yourself small gaps to fly in. The twins found it rather amusing and even made a few jokes about how “Everyone has issues with finishing too fast” or things along that line--even Vergil made a few, much to Dante’s surprise.

The three of you landed in the back alleyway behind DMC. Both brothers de-Triggered and Dante bent over to pick up the roller shutter door.

“Welcome home, kids,” he smiled widely and placed his hands on his hips.

Nero stood in the garage, leaning against one of the workbenches, but stood up straight upon seeing the three of you.

Vergil was unable to look Nero in the eye, a strong feeling of guilt eating at his mind. You didn’t take all of two seconds before walking into the garage, ducking under the door, and walking up to Nero. Curious, you bent down to look at him closer. His eyes were wide and he was fighting the urge to grab Blue Rose from his side.

You curiously tilted your head and stared at him, “You’re smaller than I thought you’d be.”

Nero’s brow furrowed as he sputtered, attempting to figure out a response.

Carefully, you reached your hand out and ruffled Nero’s hair, “Soft…”

Dante snickered loudly, reveling in the embarrassed expression on Nero’s face.

The teal devil finally managed to say something, “What the fuck?”

“Hm?” You titled your head to the other side, still petting the top of his head.

“H-Hey! Knock it off!!” Nero unintentionally stuttered as he tried to look angry, which was completely ruined by the bright red tint of his cheeks.

“Oh! Sorry,” you removed your hand and stood back up straight.

“It’s fine, I guess,” he cleared his throat and regained his regular composure, “So, your Dante and Vergil’s sibling then huh?”

You nodded, “You’re Nero, right? Vergil’s son?”

“Tch. Right,” he glared at the blue devil from the corner of his eye, “His son.”

“I’m sorry-- maybe, your donor would be better? I didn’t mean to upset--”

Dante wheezed super loud and doubled over in laughter, making you turn to view your brothers.

“What is so funny?” You tilted your head.

“It’s nothing,” Vergil shook his head, “Dante is just immature.”

“Hey,” Dante stood back up, wiping tears from his eyes, “That’s harsh. You can’t tell me that isn’t funny.”

“It’s not,” Vergil’s tone was flat.

“Ehem,” the three of you turned to Nero, “Can we go inside? It’s late and I have a contract in the morning.”

“A con-tract?” You cocked your head to the side, “For what?”

“Uh… I don’t know if I should tell you. Seeing as your all,” Nero gestured up and down your body, “like that.”

“Like what?”

“I--”

Dante cut in, “Nero’s got a demon hunting job in the morning, it’s what he--and I--do for a living.”

“Ooo!” Your wings fluttered a bit in excitement, “Can I come?!”

“Can you-- what? Shouldn’t that be--?”

You laughed softly, “If you are worried about offending me, I assure you,” you leaned down and made eye contact with him, “I have killed more demons than any of you in this room and, moreover, eaten their corpses,” you tilted your head and had a happy tone to your voice, “Only good demon, is a dead demon.”

Nero stood with a pale expression.

Your elated state fell, “Did I say something wrong?”

Dante grabbed your shoulder, “Nope, he just thinks that you’re gonna kill us three too.”

“Oh no,” you shook your head, “We aren’t demons-- we are devils, there is quite a large difference.”

“R-right,” Nero swallowed hard.

“Welp,” Dante smiled widely, “Why don’t we go inside and relax for a bit?”

Coyly you nodded, embarrassed that you’d just freaked out your own nephew. The red and teal devil both went in the door, leaving you with Vergil.

Using one of your wings, you nudged him and gestured to the door with a nod, “Come on, let’s go inside.”

He went first and you followed, ducking under the frame. A sudden overwhelming melancholic feeling shot through your body. The shop was relatively clean; which, compared to how Dante left it, the shop may as well have been spotless. Both twins and Nero had moved further into the shop and were talking amongst themselves; you, however, were standing at the dividing line between the main section of the room and the small off-shoot that had the bar.

All you could do was stare, unable to move from your spot. Perhaps if you had the ability to, you would’ve cried.

“So,” Dante put a hand in his pocket, “How long have we been gone anyway?”

Nero pursed his lips as he stared at Vergil for a moment, “Nearly two years.”

“Holy shit,” the red devil stood in disbelief, “I-- I gotta call Trish and Lady in the mornin’... They’re gonna freak.”

“Yeah,” Nero’s eyes finally left Vergil, “They are supposed to stop by in the morning to pick up a contract Morrison left tonight, you could surprise ‘em then..?”

“Good idea pipsqueak,” he ruffled Nero’s hair, getting some venomous cursing in response, “So, my room still mine or you’d move into it?”

The teal devil gripped Dante’s forearm, trying to pull him off, “I didn’t touch your shit.”

“Ah, alrighty,” the younger twin removed his hand and placed it on Vergil’s shoulder, “Let’s go, Grandpa, it’s way past your bedtime.”

Vergil frowned but said nothing, much to Dante’s disappointment.

“What about them?” Nero pointed to you, who had moved ever-so-slightly into the foyer and were playing with the jukebox’s buttons (thankfully it still didn’t work fully).

“They’ll join me and Vergil,” a devilish smile filled Dante’s face, “Actually, you two wait down here--I’ll be right back.”

“Wait-- and he’s gone,” Nero pursed his lips and sighed. He turned to Vergil who still couldn’t look him in the eye, after a short pause, the young man walked over to the desk and opened the top drawer, “Catch.”

Vergil grabbed the object that Nero threw, it was Vergil’s poetry book.

“Been keeping it in case you two decided to return,” now it was Nero’s turn to not be able to look at the other, “Figured I should after what V told me about you.”

Vergil pursed his lips, “Thank you, Nero.”

“Yeah, whatever,” he scoffed, doing his best to keep his emotions in check, and walked over to you, “What are you trying to do?”

“I remember always wanting one of these when I was a kid,” you tapped the silver decoration on the top edge, “Sparda used to talk about jukeboxes quite often,” a bittersweet feeling filled your heart at the thought, unsure how to feel about your Father, “Told me for my sixteenth birthday that he’d get me one that I’d always fixated on,” you sighed, “But that was a long time ago, I doubt you care for stories like those.”

Nero leaned against the bar counter, “Actually, it is funny hearing about how much of a normal guy Sparda was after being raised in a cult that obsessed over the old man.”

“A Sparda-based cult? How stupid,” you laughed and turned to Nero, “He was just a devil, nothing more.”

“That’s what I thought,” Nero smiled.

A loud thump caught everyone’s attention. At the bottom of the stairs was a large pile of blankets and pillows. Dante was trotting down the staircase with a juvenile excitement on his face.

“Dante,” Vergil raised a brow and folded his arms, “What in the world is this about?”

“Well,” Dante walked over to the couches and grabbed the cushions from them, placing them on the floor, “I always wanted to have a sleepover when we were kids, but,” he grabbed some of the pillows he’d thrown, “was never allowed to or able to.”

“You’re joking, right?” A skeptical brow adorned the eldest’s face.

“Nope,” the red devil smiled and began to fold some of the blankets, continuing to make the nest of plush on the foyer floor, “I just spent two goddamn years in Hell and almost died countless times,” he closed his eyes and smiled wider, “and I would’ve died without having even one sleepover. So,” he tossed the last few blankets near the pile, “before I kick the bucket, I am having one.”

“And you are expecting Nero, myself, and them to join you?”

“E-yup!” Dante placed his hands on his hips, “Come on it’ll be fun.”

Nero’s lips turned to a flat line, “I don’t want to agree with Vergil, but, what the fuck?”

“I’ll do it,” you raised your hand slightly, “Although, I don’t sleep,” you began to mumble a bit, “The two of you always looked so cozy, but I didn’t want something to happen to you so…”

The red devil walked over to you and grabbed your hand, “Well then let’s change that, hm?”

He led you to the center of the nest and gestured for you to lay. Carefully, you did so and laid face-up with your wings tucked behind you, trying to give the others as much room as you could.

“This is pointless,” Vergil grumbled, moving his jaw in thought, pouting ever-so-slightly.

“No,” Dante smiled, “This is comfortable,” he flopped onto you, laying flat across your body

You laughed and placed an arm around Dante’s shoulders, holding your brother close.

Eventually, Vergil broke. With a heavy sigh, he hung his coat on the stair railing. He laid down beside you, his back facing you, to which you grabbed him and pulled him close.

Nero shook his head, “Nope, sorry, I’m gonna pass.”

“You sure?” Dante looked up at him, very obviously half-awake.

“Yeah. I’m sure alright,” with that, the young hunter turned off the shop lights, “I’ll see you all in the morning,” he stood with mouth agape before closing it with a shake and going up the stairs.

A few hours passed. You were feeling tired, at least, you think you were feeling tired; it had been so long since you’d slept that you weren’t sure if that’s what it was. Both twins were fast asleep and Vergil had turned to face you in his sleep, grabbing onto you tightly.

A deep bittersweet melancholic happiness tugged at your heart. Deep inside, you feared that this was all an elaborate nightmare and that, soon, this would all disappear; making you lose your family once again.

Creaking from the staircase pulled you from your thoughts. Before you could react, you saw Nero standing over you.

“Hey,” his voice was quiet and meek, “I uh…”

You removed your hand from Dante and patted the empty space beside you, which Nero immediately laid in.

Another hour passed and all three of the white-haired men were asleep. Nero’s actions echoed that of his father’s; starting with facing away from you and now he was gripping onto you as if he were going to be ripped away from you. Your eyes felt heavy and you were fighting the urge to close them, but you couldn’t help it. The loud purring from your family and the warm bundle that the group of fire devils created was enough to push you over the edge into a deep sleep.

The sound of a phone ringing woke you up, slowly blinking awake. A groan left your lips as you felt something (or rather someone) heavy laying on you.

Dante was still on top of your chest but he felt heavier for some reason. He felt much taller too. Both Vergil and Nero were still latched onto you, however, they’d settled to grab your arms instead of your chest. They, too, felt much heavier and larger.

An unexpected loud voice rang through one of your ears, “What on Earth?” The eldest shot upright, “You..!”

“Mmm, Verge,” Dante mumbled, his warm cheek was placed against your chest and he had drooled in his sleep, “What are you shouting for?”

“Dante, open your eyes.”

When the red devil did, he pushed up and stared down at you with wide eyes.

Quickly, he stood up and grabbed a free blanket, “Here, wrap yourself in this before the kid wakes up.”

Confused, you tried to pull your arm free, only to have Nero grip you tighter.

“Here,” Dante leaned back down and wrapped your body in the cloth.

That’s when you realized what had happened. Your skin was no longer covered in scales --your teeth were no longer too large for your mouth --your hands were no longer clawed.

No longer trapped in your state of survival.

You were what you once were all those years ago.

Human.

ENDING NOTES: Poems quoted: ❥The Book of Urizen; Chapter II, IX, Preludium: William Blake ❥Infant Joy: William Blake ❥The Little Boy Lost: William Blake--changed slightly; replaced “boy” with child. ➖➖➖ I hope y’all enjoyed this. It took me SOOOO long to finish this. Not sure if I’ll do something like this again, I couldn’t switch between writing this and then writing some “x reader” stuff (because it would bleed into one or the other.). Please let me know if y’all liked this or not! I’d love to hear feedback! Thanks again for the request and I hope everyone has a great day/night! :))))

Want to see more like this? Check out the book on AO3 or check out the Masterlist for Tumblr!

THERE IS ALSO ART THAT GOES WITH THIS BUT I AM TOO FUCKING TIRED TO DEAL WITH THAT RN LMAO IT IS SO LATE AND I HAVE SPENT SO LONG ON THIS (Not that I'm complaining, I enjoyed writing this; it just took so damn long lmao)

If anyone is interested, there is a chapter on my AO3 of all the scrapped content from this fic. As you could/can probably tell, there was so much stuff I wanted to put in this and just either didn't because of time or scrapped because it became too overly saturated with the stuff. Please give it a read, it actually explains some stuff that I left in (like the ceiling paintings for example).

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clownmaggot · 1 year

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CW: Body horror, vomit, v0re??? and gore??(just to be safe for both these, the fucking cheese pull fake dough looks really gorey so its better to be safe than sorry) More triggering images are in the read more

sorry this is kinda gross. I just felt like drawing Fpep being nasty and feral but also cute. Idk, he's like a really weird dog that throws up on your carpet, eats your tv remote and works in the pizzeria.

#not adding this in the main tags #idk #its just gross and i pref not to put it there #sorry i stopped giving a shit the last two panels.#ive had a really bad episode today.#my art

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bbgem329 · 2 years

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Where’s My Love—Chapter Six

Pairings—Bucky Barnes x F!Reader

Summary

Two years ago, you and your husband built a life for your growing family at a safe camp during a world wide apocalypse. Everything is good until Bucky catches wind that a rival group is out to dominate the rest for their own gain.

What happens when, one day, the most capable men and your husband are out on a hunt when the camp is attacked? Will you be able to get your children and your heavily pregnant self to safety? Will Bucky find you before it’s too late?

Warnings

MINORS DNI! 18++. Violence. Language. Apocalyptic world. Childbirth. Protective!Bucky. Little dark. Little gore? We love feral, protective men. Did I miss anything?

Note

This is my birthday present to myself. So sorry for the delay! Work and school and life tend to get in the way! I will finish this and in about a month my schedule will open up for summer break so expect more soon!! Thanks for the support and love! Always!

Series Masterlist

—————

Run. Run. Run.

Just keep running.

Don’t think.

Just run.

Bucky didn’t let his mind wander too far. He couldn’t afford to. If he let his thoughts run rampant–his worries, it just might tear him apart and twist him up from inside out.

What good would he be then?

No. He needed to be calm and collected. He needed to keep his head.

You were fine. You had to be.

You were smart.

You were resourceful.

You could handle your own, he’d made sure of that with all the training he’d forced upon you in the past few years. You wouldn’t, in a million years, let anything happen to his babies. You would fight.

But what if…

No.

Bucky shook his head, letting out a frustrated growl as he picked up the pace. Arms pumping harder, stride longer, steps lighter, and his head held high.

JUST RUN.

Don’t. Think.

He couldn’t remember the last time he worked up such a sweat. Or got his heart pumping this hard. Or his lungs burning this much.

Has he ever run this fast before?

He doesn’t think so.

Not as the Winter Soldier as far as he remembered.

No, when he was the Winter Soldier he would stalk, not run, after his targets–his missions.

Like a hunter after his prey.

That’s exactly what he would do if–

No.

How long had he been running?

Bucky stole a glance up at the sky. The sun was at its highest position, meaning it had to be somewhere around noon. And if he had left just around sunrise, he’d had been gone for over six hours by now.

Bucky’s stomach rolled and he could nearly taste the bile clawing its way up his throat.

A lot can happen in six hours.

He swallowed thickly, shaking the thought from his head. There was absolutely no need to go there. You would always tell him how silly it was to worry. Remind him that whatever he was in his head about was out of his control.

Whatever happened, happened.

Worrying was nothing but a waste of time and energy that could be put to good use.

It’s almost as if he can hear your voice in his head–clear as day, telling him the exact thing or something along those lines.

You’d spoken those exact words more than a few times in the years you’d been together but there was one time in particular that came to the forefront of his mind.

“You better knock it off.”

Bucky’s gaze lifted to meet your eyes in the mirror, the pressure of his hands on either side of your hips lessening for just a moment. He tried to hide his surprise over the bite in your tone but he clearly didn’t mask his deer-caught-in-a-headlights reaction quick enough.

“What?” He asked, sounding a little offended. “I’m not doing anything, baby. Just trying to help relieve the pressure…”

He was quick to avert his eyes, instead focusing on his hands on either side of your waist, making sure he was adding just the right amount of pressure to ease the pain of the contractions.

He damn well knew you were onto him–knew you knew him better than he knew himself by now.

You’d probably gauged his mood long before he did. There really was no point in trying to hide it anymore.

You’d get it out of him eventually.

But that didn’t stop him from trying to distract you from his little slip up by laying a little trail of kisses along your exposed spine, thumbs kneading the soft skin along your hip.

And he thought it might work, that he might’ve actually gotten away with it.

Then you let out a long, frustrated huff.

The jig was up.

You went to move, trying to shift back and sit up but his hands on your waist stopped you.

“Bucky.” You protested.

“Just stay there, woman.” He groaned, “I’m fine.”

“Don’t make me feel dumb.” You wiggled in his hold, trying to brush him off. “You should never lie to a pregnant woman, let alone one in labor-”

You let out a long moan, fingers digging into the sheets as you burrowed your face in the pillow to not wake Jamie on the other side of the tent. Your body shook and trembled through the pain as the contraction continued. Bucky did his best to help you through it, whispering sweet nothings and encouragement in your ears, rubbing your back and hips, wiping a cool, wet rag along the back of your neck and over your shoulders.

Your contractions were closer together and longer now.

And just to be sure, he used your current position to his advantage to check how dilated you were now.

“I feel like I need to push.”

Bucky’s stomach rolled, his heart thumping wildly in his chest as he bent down to examine you. His eye nearly bulged out of his head when his fingers came in contact with something soft but firm at the edge of your cervix.

Holy fuck.

Was that…?

He shifted to get a better look between your legs.

Yup.

Definitely a head.

“Fuck.”

He regretted that word the moment it left his lips.

“What?” You lifted your head from the sheets to look over your shoulder at him, face unnaturally flushed and a new flash of worry in your eyes. “What’s wrong?”

Bucky needed to keep his head. He couldn’t get worked up because then you would get worked up and everyone knew that a worked up woman in labor never led to anything good.

No, he needed to keep you calm to make this process as smooth and easy as possible.

“Nothings wrong, baby.” He assured you, working hard to keep his voice soft and steady. “You’re doing so great. I can see baby's head, that’s all.” He pressed a soft kiss to the base of your spine, his left hand brushing gently over your hip. “You’re fully dilated so whenever you feel the need to push go ahead.”

He was a little proud of himself for remaining so cool and collected on the outside because the turmoil blazing through him on the inside was bound to be catastrophic.

“I know you’re worried.” Your voice startled him out of his thoughts and he lifted his head to meet your gaze in the mirror across the tent again. “But you can do this. You’re ready. No point in worrying, Buck. Whatever happens, happens. It’s out of your control.” You took a deep breath, offering him a soft smile, “So worrying is a waste of time and energy.”

His expression softened as his heart clenched in his chest, nearly beating out of control. You would never cease to amaze him.

Your strength, your resilience, your selflessness.

Here you were, on your hands and knees, in one of the most vulnerable moments of your life, trying to comfort him.

He wasn’t the one about to push an actual human out of their body.

He wasn’t the one who’s life was at risk.

Though it might as well be his life too because there wasn’t a chance Bucky could go on without you.

“Pretty girl.” He whispered, fighting a smile as he shook his head in disbelief. “I should be the one comforting you. You’re the one in labor.”

You tried to smile but it came across as more of a grimace. Despite it all, the pained smile, the sweat gleamed skin, the cherry red cheeks, and the wild, snarled hair, you still looked as beautiful to him as ever.

“I know that but I’ve birthed a baby before, you have never delivered one.”

It was moments like these that made him wonder what he did to deserve you.

Sometimes he wondered if you were really real. If you were really his.

“Those are two very different things-”

He was cut off but your strained cry.

“Okay.” He mumbled to you or himself, he wasn’t sure. “Okay, you got this.”

Bucky positioned himself back between your spread thighs, rubbing reassuringly along the back of your legs and hips coaching and encouraging you through it as best as he could.

A few good pushes and the head was out–this was called crowning, he’d remembered from one of the many books he’d read and you weren’t allowed to push, only breathe so as to not risk tearing. Before the apocalypse a tear was an easy fix but here and now, it could mean life or death. As far as you were both aware, you were the only medical professional that could even remotely handle that sort of situation and you couldn’t very well stitch up yourself if you found yourself in that position.

“Just breathe, baby.” He pleaded, rubbing his metal hand reassuringly along your waist and back, trying to distract you from the pain. “Follow my lead.”

Finally the contraction ended, and he was able to guide and carefully maneuver the shoulders out.

One more determined push and the baby–his baby girl was sliding out and into his eagerly awaiting hands.

And you both let out a matching sigh of relief when she immediately let loose with a piercing wail.

That had worked out.

This would too.

Whatever God or higher power existed wouldn’t dare take you or his babies from him. Not after everything he was put through and faced.

You, Jamie, Becca, and the baby were his redemption.

His light at the end of a very dark tunnel.

The world wouldn’t be able to handle James Buchanan Barnes without you.

So you would survive. You had to, if not for his sake.

Bucky couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief when finally the ‘Brookstown’ sign came into view. He always hated that sign, thought it attracted too much attention and would only bring trouble into their little town, and maybe he was right but he’d never been happier to see it than he is now.

It served, somewhat, as a beacon of hope.

He was close.

His chest tightened as he turned down the familiar path, leading into the woods. Just on the other side of this mini forest, was the truth and he wasn’t sure he was ready to face it.

He didn’t hear gunshots, in fact, he didn’t hear anything at all.

It was dead silent.

And that was enough to alert him that something was off.

No.

Something was wrong.

Normally, he could hear the life that lay beyond as he approached the front fence–giggles of children, people talking as they washed clothes in the river, and the clanking of tools because they were always fixing up and improving things around camp.

There was always something going on, even in the dead of the night.

He steeled himself, steps deliberate yet reluctant as he pushed through the bush and came out on the other side.

Bucky wasn’t sure what to expect but it wasn’t this.

The fence had been knocked down on two sides, a good amount of the dead had already rounded up, wandering around the completely lifeless camp, feasting on the bodies that were left behind.

Bucky didn’t let himself think, body numb as he took off in a sprint towards your shared tent on the other side of camp. His mind was on one thing and one thing only, completely oblivious and unaware as he screamed your name at the top of his lungs.

It didn’t matter that it attracted a lot of unwanted attention, the rage bubbling up inside him was no match for the infected that wandered his way.

They were nothing more than an outlet and he took whatever came his way out without batting an eye–a knife to the eye, a stab to the top of the head, a cut clean across the neck that sent a still growling head rolling across the flattened grass.

He intentionally didn’t look at the bodies littering the ground, kept his gaze up and his head held high as he moved closer and closer to his tent. If he stole a glance and connected each body to a face and name in his head..

It would only slow him down.

He couldn’t afford to feel or think about anything else right now.

Once the coast was clear, Bucky barged through the door of his tent, relief hitting him square in the chest as he took in the familiar space.

The backpack–gone.

All the coats–gone.

The chest at the end of the bed–open and rifled through.

You were in a rush, that much was obvious.

He pressed a hand to his head, letting himself have a moment of relief.

His girl.

His girl was strong. Resilient.

If you made it back here and had enough time to gather some stuff, there was no doubt you made it out.

Your next move would’ve been towards the fence–the back fence specifically and seeing as they attacked from the front, you most likely had a smooth escape.

You were okay. You were out there.

And he was coming after you.

Bucky snatched up his own backpack, quickly stuffing a few more smaller guns and knives in the pockets before racing into Becca and Jamie’s space to collect his worn blue blankie and her stained stuffed rabbit.

Once he had everything packed, he slung the bag over his shoulder and grabbed his old M249 Paratrooper off the bed.

“I’m coming.”

He couldn’t imagine how scared you must be, didn’t even want to think about what you went through. But he knew you trusted that he would come after you and that he would find you.

With one last deep breath, he positioned his gun in his right arm and carefully pulled back the flap of the tent with his left.

But never in his wildest dreams, could he have prepared for the next moment.

Barely a step out of the tent and he was frozen in shock as his gaze locked on a familiar pair of warm chocolate eyes. The breath was nearly knocked from his lungs as he subconsciously jolted back, one hand over his frantically beating heart.

“You… You” He stuttered out. “What..”

“Hey, Buck.” Followed by a chuckle. “ Good to see you too.”

“Sam?”

—————

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donteattheappleshook · 1 year

Text

Not Broken At All Chapter 15/?

Summary:

A season 1 Neverland AU. Emma is still trying to adjust to her new life as Sheriff of Storybrooke and mom to Henry, who still believes everyone in town is a fairytale creature. When she finds a badly beaten, one handed man while patrolling, she’s convinced he’s crazy. He is, after all, rambling about fairies and shadows and crocodiles. But when Henry is suddenly taken out the window of a house everyone believes is haunted, the madman in the hospital might be her only hope of getting her son back. Whether he likes it or not.

Rated E

Catch up on Ao3 (where my italics work) or on Tumblr 1 2 3 4 5 6 7 8 9 10 11 12 13 14

CONTENT WARNING! This has the hunt which includes lost boys (kids) being killed and while it's brief, it's a dark scene. There's also some gore afterwards and violence (again against lost boys) referenced off-screen. If you're at all uncomfortable you can DM me and I can let you know which sections to avoid. I had a few people review it and tell me it's "dark but not too dark" but better safe than sorry. And hey, there’s also smut to make up for it.

Thank you thank you thank you thank you always @the-darkdragonfly and @elizabeethan for your help with this feral fic 😘 and thank you @kmomof4 for being a fantastic beta for this chapter! 💕💕

*****

Part 15

She can still feel the burn of his kiss - her kiss - on her lips when the moon hangs high above the Jolly. She’s been watching it, tracking its slow climb across the sky since she came out of the forest to find Will waiting on the shore - Wendy having taken the dinghy and leaving them stranded. Emma was almost relieved that she wasn’t there, that she didn’t have to explain why she was standing there alone, why Killian wasn’t with her. No matter how angry Wendy was at her Captain, she would have noticed. Will, on the other hand, was too fixated on the sea, on the ship rocking rhythmically against the waves to notice. But the way he watched it, as though it were miles away and not metres, betrayed what the longing in his eyes was really for.

She’d suggested they swim, the ship not far and the water most likely clear of vindictive sirens. Mostly she’d just wanted to get that look off of his face, to stop feeling the guilt that accompanied it. They’re risking their lives for you, Swan, all of us are - for you and for your son. He didn’t put up an argument. Will only shrugged dismissively, looking back out to the ship and wading into the sea.

It’s been hours since then, hours of waiting and staring out at the dark water, searching for any movement in the dimly lit night. She can feel the cold breeze seeping through her thin shirt, chilling her skin and sending a tremor through her bones. But she can’t go below deck, can’t leave her spot by the railing. Not until she sees some sign, any sign that she didn’t just send him to his death to protect Henry. Henry, who's still out there, who’s waiting for her to come get him, who may already hear the Lost Boys’ cries.

It’s late, the moon already growing dimmer against the lightening sky. Will had come up some time ago, only sparing her a passing look before finding a spot far enough away that they wouldn’t feel the need to speak. He’d gone straight below deck once they’d climbed out of the water, his small plea of ‘Wen, please’ carrying over to her in the silence. The nights are always so quiet here, the sea soundless against the ship, the wind not stirring in the trees. It’s wrong, and unnatural, this island not a place rooted in reality, the piercing wails of the children in the jungle starker against the silence, echoing over the sea.

Emma casts a glance over at Will, leaning over the railing, looking out at the water rather than the beach, though she imagines he’s not really looking at anything at all, and wonders if he can hear them. He’s never said. Only that Wendy did. And now Killian is out there risking his life to make it up to her, to atone for the daughter he left behind by making sure she doesn’t lose the man who stayed by her side. Because of her. Because she begged Will to go, begged anyone to go and do what she couldn’t.

Daylight begins its slow crawl over the night sky and still there’s no sign of Hook, no sign of Wendy since the forest. She doesn’t hear Will cross the deck until his arms fold over the railing beside hers, his shoulders tense as he leans heavily on them, his question leaving him in a heavy breath.

“He went, didn’t he?”

Emma nods, fingers pressing into the soft wood beneath them. But he’s not looking at her so she lets out a small ‘yeah’ and watches his jaw clench, teeth pressed together as anger and relief war on his face.

“Bastard.”

“How far is the camp?”

Will gives a small shrug. “It moves. But it can be found if you know what to look for.” When she doesn’t answer he finally turns his head, just a fraction and she feels his gaze from the corner of her eye as she goes back to watching the beach. “He’ll be back.”

“How do you know?”

“The man’s bloody impossible to kill. Trust me,” he insists. “I’ve tried.”

“That’s not funny.”

“It’s a little funny.”

He sighs when she doesn’t answer. “Pan doesn’t want him dead. He never has. He enjoys torturing him too much.”

“What if he changes his mind?” Especially if he catches him trying to meddle in whatever plan he has for Henry.

“He could,” Will acknowledges. “But he expects Hook to try and stop him. It’s all part of the game.”

“This isn’t a game.”

“Everything is a game to him. Sometimes… I used to wonder if he even knew what was real and what wasn’t. I didn’t. Not until…” The little girl he brought to Wendy. “He’s a child. Everything, this whole island, his hunts and his raids and his conquests, it’s all make believe, one big, never ending game.”

Emma doesn't know which is scarier, the thought that Pan is a monster that murders and maims and torments without remorse, or that his acts of cruelty can be carried out without care, without any true understanding of consequence - for fun. How many times as a child did she play cops and robbers? How many times did she and the other children in homes sword fight with sticks and cardboard tubes, laughing while they ‘killed’ one another. Because it was all just make believe.

Her thoughts are cut off by a slow roar of something in the trees, the dull, faraway sound carrying over the water. Will looks out at the sky, suddenly alert and she follows his gaze, the sun just breaking over the horizon. “It’s starting.”

It’s shouting, she realizes, a low rumble of a battle cry making its way towards the beach. “The hunt?”

“Aye.” The voice comes from behind them, Wendy having finally emerged from her cabin, staring out towards the shore. There’s a moment where she takes in Will standing beside her, frown pulling at her brow before relief softens it. But her gaze snaps back to the beach, eyes wide, brow marred again. “Where’s Killian?” The question is sharp, an order. But neither answer. She knows. Wendy rushes to the rail, looking frantically out over the water as though she could see him through the jungle. “Bastard.”

It takes her a moment to school her features, to regain control of herself, hands still clenched into fists against the edge of the Jolly. But once she does, she slips back into the role of the fierce pirate captain Emma met that first night - the one that ended a deathmatch with a single word. “Ready the crew” she tells Will. “Be sure they’re prepared to take on the wounded. And no one,” she adds, tone commanding and almost frightening, “no one is to leave the ship. Is that understood?” The question is directed at her.

“I-”

“If you go on that beach, you’re signing your death warrant. You’re to stay below deck,” she orders. “Understood?”

“I’m not staying below deck if Henry comes out of that jungle,” Emma argues.

“Killian is taking care of Henry. If Pan sees you you’ll be putting both of them at risk. You’ll stay below deck, Emma,” she repeats. “That’s an order.”

“Let me help. I can -”

Before she can finish, she’s being lifted off her feet, a small nod from Wendy to Will, some unspoken command and suddenly she’s tossed over his shoulder and letting out a cry of protest as she’s carried below deck.

“What the- Put me down!” she snaps, but Will and his stupid, freakish strength holds her steady, the arm across the back of her thighs vice-like.

“I swear to god, you better not lick me again while you’re back there,” he warns.

She gives a hard elbow to his ribs in retaliation, the small grunt he lets out immensely satisfying before she’s being dropped on her ass, the damp room one she doesn’t recognize, and a lock clicks into place. It takes her a second to register where she is.

“You’re throwing me in the fucking brig?” she demands, fingers wrapping around the solid iron bars. “You can’t be serious.”

“You're part of this crew. You don't follow orders, this is what happens,” Wendy tells her before heading back towards the deck. “You’ll be let out when it’s over.”

“Maybe,” Will adds with a mirthful smirk that makes her wish he was close enough to hit again. But the door slams shut between them and she’s left alone with her outrage.

The shouting is getting louder now, the sun climbing quickly - too quickly - into the sky. She can distinguish words now, cries of ‘get them’ breaking through the hollering and the cheering… and the screams. The first one she hears- sudden and sharp and cut off in an instant- sends her heart dropping into her stomach. She hardly has time to let the dread take over before another takes its place, this one worse, drawn out, fading into a whimper, small and heartbreaking and horrible. It’s followed by cries of victory.

Reaching for the bars on the small window of her cell she hoists herself up onto the small bench, just able to look out if she holds her weight up, standing on barely touching tiptoes. She wishes she hadn’t. The beach is a bloodbath, bodies strewn out across the sand, dead, or soon to be. They’re too far for her to recognize any, but they’re all so small, narrow shoulders and lanky limbs. Any one of those bodies could be Henry. Every single one is a child.

Emma nearly falls off the bench, barely managing to land on her feet as she doubles over, emptying her stomach on the floor of her cell. It doesn’t stop, the chaos on the beach echoing in the small room, screams, cheers of triumph, the slice of metal and the batter of arrows falling over one another until they all fade into the endless din of battle.

She can’t bring herself to look again, sitting with her back to the horror, hands over her ears as she tries to drown it all out, stuck and helpless to do anything about it. It’s not Henry. Henry’s not there. She needs to believe that Killian got to him in time, that he stopped him from being a part of it. Those aren’t his cries of pain she’s hearing. That’s not him celebrating. Henry’s not there. She repeats it, again and again, curled on the floor, trying to block out the horror. They were right. She wouldn't have been able to stay below deck- either above or below. She wouldn’t have been able to stay off the beach.

It goes on for ages, growing in volume, the Lost Boys riled up more with every fallen victim. She could almost believe they were playing, were it not for the crying, the pleas for mercy. Then, almost as quickly as it started, the sounds begin to quiet. She hears a flurry of footsteps thundering onto the deck above her head, hears the muffled shout of Wendy ordering her crew to aid the survivors.

The mayhem on the beach finally settles, the slashing of swords and the cries dropping one by one until there’s silence. And then there are only hoots and hollers echoing across the shore - a celebration. Someone is congratulating them. She doesn’t have to guess who it is. She’ll recognize that twisted, childlike voice for the rest of her life.

It’s over. It has to be. Please let it be over. There’s no more clash of swords, no more wails of pain and death and she can almost breathe again until she hears it. A single, sobbing whimper from the shore, a cry of “mama” that burrows itself deep, echoing through her. There’s another. And another. And it’s the worst sound she’s ever heard, worse than the Lost Boys at night - children crying for their mothers.

She’s on her feet before she can think, yanking at the goddamn padlock on her door, clawing at it and shouting with rage when it doesn’t give. She doesn’t have anything to pick it with - no tools, no pins, not even a goddamn pen to break apart. Fucking pirates knowing better than to leave anything within reach that could help her break out.

She pulls the heavy leather boot from her foot, the heel solid and adorned with metal. It’s flimsy and awkward but it’s all she’s got and she reaches, arm scrapped raw by the stripped bars as she tries to get any force behind the blow. Reaching for the padlock, the angle awkward, and hitting it again and again, she curses when she hits it hard enough to knock the boot out of her hand, fingers aching where they still connect with the iron.

But she doesn’t stop, not so long as she can hear the kids crying from the shore. She may not be their mother but she’s a mother and she’s getting to that fucking beach. She yanks off her other boot, trying again, hanging on so tightly this time that her knuckles go white. Emma’s not sure how long she tries, how many times she brings the heel down on the lock, her skin damp with sweat, her shirt bloodied where the bars scratched her.

“Come on you stupid son of a bitch.” She’s tired, her arm aching, fingers bruised, but there’s a fury in her, a rage that builds until it feels like it will burst out of her. And then it does. She smashes the lock again, a spark of light flashing when it makes contact, bright enough that she has to shut her eyes. But when she opens them, the lock is on the ground, broken in two.

The cell swings open easily as she runs for the deck, yanking the door of the brig open only to crash into a figure on the other side. Fingers and metal wrap around her arms as she tries to push past him, shouting obscenities and shoving at him. But he doesn’t move, his grip tightening until she hisses, flinching, skin scratched raw beneath his hand and he lets go.

“Swan.” The name is what snaps her out of her panic. Her name. The one only he calls her - the one he promised not to let her forget. She looks up at him, finally realizing that it’s him, that he’s there and alive. The blue of his eyes, sad and anxious, shines even in the dim light of the room. “It’s over.”

She hears it then, the absence. There’s no more noise, no more screaming, no crying, the awfulness faded to nothing, the only sound the creaking of footsteps above them and her own ragged breathing. Her hands slide over his chest, pulling back enough to look for any sign he’s been hurt, that he didn’t come back in one piece. She searches his face, remembering the way she’d first found him, battered and bleeding, but those wounds are long healed, no new ones in their place and she sighs gratefully.

“Henry?”

“He’s fine. He wasn’t there. He’s safe.”

She nearly gives into the sobs that are trying to spill out of her, too full of anguish and fear and relief to keep them from overflowing. But her hands find the sides of his face, rising on her toes to capture his mouth with hers. She’s cried enough today - cried enough every day since she got to this stupid island, since she lost Henry to it. She doesn’t want to cry anymore. Her tears serve no purpose. They won’t keep Henry safe - but Killian did. Killian kept him safe.

He lets her kiss him, lets her slide her fingers into his hair, lets her seek his tongue with her own and keep him there with a death grip on his collar. But when she presses herself closer to him, seeking more of his heat to warm her frozen skin, more of him to fill the ache growing inside of her, he pulls back. He watches her carefully, searching for something, maybe remnants of the wine or that the events of the last hour haven’t completely destroyed her.

But Emma sees it then, the same exhaustion she feels darkening his eyes, pulling at the lines of his brow. The mask of resilience and unflinching coolness in the face of everything that’s been thrown at them slips, and he lets her see the suffering she knows is reflected back at him. She doesn’t know how long he’s been on the ship, how much of the massacre he had to watch before he came to find her - how many times he’s had to watch it before, just as powerless as she’d been to stop it.

She opens her mouth to say something, to ask him those very questions, but his lips crash down over hers before she can get the words out. The force of it sends her stumbling back and he follows, kiss hard and demanding, the door slamming as he kicks it shut behind him, and he leads them both across the room until her back collides with the bars of the cell, knocking the wind out of her. He swallows the sound she makes, tongue sliding over her lip in apology before pushing its way into her mouth to taste whatever he can reach, whatever he can take.

He kisses her with the same desperation she feels - for all of this to be finished, for the horrible feeling and memory that’s sunk its teeth in to be drowned out. She understands. She doesn’t want to talk either. This day - the last hour alone - all she wants is to forget it. Just for a little while she wants to forget every wretched thing about Neverland and lose herself in the one person who’s helped her survive it.

Emma shoves at the lapels of his coat, pushing it over his shoulders and he lets it fall to the floor with a heavy sound. His lips find her neck as she reaches for his vest, fingers fumbling on the buttons when he works a mark into her collarbone and tugs her hair loose from its messy knot. Far more adept, even with only one hand, her borrowed vest is opened and tossed unceremoniously aside before she’s managed to undo all his fastenings, Killian pulling her shirt over her head almost frantically.

She cries out when his mouth closes over her breast, hot and wet, tongue rolling over the hardened peak while his hand finds the other and he turns her into a panting, whimpering mess just like he’d promised to in the fae woods. When she hisses out a warning ‘Killian’, his lips start a path down the length of her stomach, dropping to his knees, shucking his vest and shirt.

The look he tosses up at her, checking before his hook tugs at the laces of her stupid, inconvenient pants, sends heat burning in her stomach and wetness pooling between her thighs as he yanks the heavy fabric down her hips. Desperate, wrecked, the blue of his eyes nearly eclipsed by the black, heavy-lidded and full of shameless want and dirty promises.

“Fuck.” Her hands find purchase in his hair, stumbling back, hardly stepped out of the leather before his mouth is on her, hooking a leg over his shoulder and pressing her against the bars once more. The rough iron scrapes at the bare skin of her back, but she doesn’t care, not with the way he’s sucking at her clit, tongue flicking over the sensitive bundle of nerves and growling into her skin when she bucks into his mouth.

He presses his brace across her hips, holding her still as he eats into her, fucking her with his tongue and nothing about today matters anymore. Nothing feels real apart from his mouth between her thighs, the scrape of his jaw rough against sensitive skin. She whines at the push of his fingers inside of her, pleasure tightening in her stomach, the anticipation building in every muscle, the promise of release and fucking ecstasy just out of reach.

“Please.” The word escapes on a whimper, wanton and desperate, and then he’s moaning against her, teeth scraping sharply against her clit, making her cry out and her hands fist harshly in his hair when he pulls it into his mouth, fingers curling in time with the pulse of his tongue against her, his lips around her, and then she’s shattering.

She barely manages to catch her cry of release between her teeth as her whole body shudders and it escapes as a muffled sob in the dark room. But Killian doesn’t relent, egged on by her coming apart on his tongue, working her frantically, drawing out the aftershocks until they start to build to a new height altogether. She’s about to fall again, so close to the edge, but she pushes at his shoulders.

“Wait.” He only resists for a second, eyes dark with hunger when he looks up at her, but it’s the small hint of desperation, the unbridled abandon emanating from him that makes her remember that he needs this just as much as she does. That he’s been through as much as she has. And it’s not the first time for him. She can’t imagine living through today again and again for centuries. It’s no wonder he found solace wherever he could and with whoever he could in this horrible place. She’s been living a nightmare for a week. He’s been living it for lifetimes.

Emma joins him on her knees, not caring about the dirt and the damp as she pulls him to her, mouth finding his easily. The way their lips move against each other is familiar now, but no less heated as his arms come around her waist, pressing heated skin to heated skin, hand snaking up the length of her back to tangle in her hair, gathering it at the nape of her neck.

She explores the length of his arms with careful fingers, muscles hard under her hands from years at sea and endless fighting. She feels the rise and fall of scars across his skin before dragging her nails down his shoulders, leaving her own mark and feeling the bite of his teeth against her lip. Her fingers move to his chest, sliding through the coarse hair and finding the evidence of years spent in bloodshed. The gasp he lets out when she rakes them over the flat of his stomach to his hips is choked and she ducks her head, lips leaving his to trail the length of his jaw, tongue sliding over the spot below his ear he can’t seem to leave alone.

“Emma…” It’s a plea and a warning and a question all in one as she pulls at his laces. The feel of him straining hard and hot beneath her palm only urges her on as her mouth explores the taut line of his neck, leaving a mark on his collarbone to match the one he gave her.

He hisses out a word that isn’t in English but she’s almost positive is a curse when she slides into his leathers, fingers wrapping around his cock and running her hand over the hard length in rough, purposeful strokes. She touches him the way he’d touched her, urgent and desperate and aware that they’re on stolen time, revelling in every sound and unconscious thrust of his hips she draws from him.

His grip on her hair becomes vice-like, tugging her head back enough that he can taste her neck again, mouth and tongue sloppy between the small growls and sharp breaths he lets out hot against her skin. The drag of cool metal over her nipple makes her falter in her rhythm. He does it again, circling the hardened peak with the sharp tip of his hook and she releases him altogether, desire burning impatient as she pushes him back to sit on his discarded coat.

Killian takes hold of her hips as she climbs into his lap, settling a knee on either side of him before taking his cock in hand again and sinking down over the length of him. His muttered ‘bloody hell’ reverberates through her as he holds still, straining as he gives her a moment to adjust to the size of him, the burn and the fullness that turn to heat and want, and she needs more.

When she rocks her hips over his, they both let out a groan at the drag of his cock- so fucking perfect inside of her. Emma braces her hands on his shoulders so she can move over him, desperate to find that toe-curling pleasure he gave her again.

His fingers dig into the curve of her ass, rolling and guiding them into a rhythm, hips rising to meet her every time she takes him in again, refusing to be a passive participant as she rides him towards their release. His hook and mouth are everywhere, touching and tasting, finding the places that make her tremble, bearing down relentlessly when the curl of his tongue or the scrape of his hook causes her to cry out and soon she’s right on the edge again, lips pressed hard together against the moans of encouragement and of his name that want to fall from them.

His hand releases her, letting her keep their pace, change it how she wants, and his fingers trail over her hip, ghosting over the sensitive skin on the inside of her thigh. His thumb slides between them, finding where they’re joined with practiced ease and circling with every roll of her hips until she can’t keep quiet anymore, hands gripping madly at his back, teeth biting into his shoulder as she tries to muffle her cries.

He presses harder, circling faster, murmuring filth and praise into her ear and holy fuck she doesn’t think she’s ever been fucked so properly in her life - every inuendo and brazen conquest on the island entirely justified. There are no thoughts left apart from how badly she needs to come, all senses muted, drowned out by the overwhelming build, the delicious drive of his cock inside of her, thrusting harder, deeper.

His mouth nips at her ear, begging her to let him see her fall apart again, telling her how good she feels, how he wants to feel her shuddering around him, how he wants to come inside her. And then there’s nothing but ecstasy, nothing but fire and release as she comes apart at his hands.

She’s still shaking when he rolls her onto her back, braced on his hooked arm as the other slides under her knee, spreads her wider for him, fucking into her wildly, harder, deeper, chasing his release as fervently as she had hers. The grind of his hips, the scratch of his chest hair against her breasts sets off another wave of lust in her, begins another rapid climb as he takes her, using her however he wants, building on the high of her orgasm before it’s faded and sending her over the edge again.

The sound he lets out when he feels her coming once more, feels the dig of her nails in his back, is almost feral. Her name is a curse and a plea as he pounds into her until he goes rigid under her hands, pulling out and spilling himself hot on her stomach with a moan muffled against the crook of her neck.

There’s nothing but the sound of their breaths, heavy in the stillness of the room, the chaos of the deck far away above them as they lay still tangled in one another for a moment, drawing out the feeling of relief as long as they can, hiding from reality for just a little longer. Here in the dark with the weight of his body still over hers and the gentle hum of her skin, the heaviness of her limbs, it’s easy to pretend the rest of the world doesn’t exist.

It's too soon when she feels him shift, the press of his lips to the hollow of her throat before he lifts his head, reaching for something in one of the many pockets of his coat they’ve sprawled out on. How he knows where anything is in the (she suspects) dozens of secret compartments that may or may not be magically hidden is beyond her, but he pulls out a handkerchief - dark like everything else he wears, but fine like everything else as well.

Tracing it gingerly over her stomach, he begins to clean the mess he made of her, erasing every trace of him from her skin. Emma takes it from him when he’s finished, sitting up to take care of the rest when she feels the brush of his fingers over her shoulder, tracing lines down her back with a furrowed brow and leaving goosebumps in his wake.

“What?” she asks, voice raw and rough from exhaustion.

His knuckles ghost feather-light along her back again, her skin burning slightly under his touch. “You’re hurt.”

There’s a bit of guilt in his expression as she turns to try and look over her shoulder, to see what he sees, the marks probably left on her skin from the iron bars. “I’m fine,” Emma promises, but he’s tracing the cuts on her arm now, ones that are definitely not his doing. “Those are technically Will’s fault,” she tells him casually, still pissed at her friend for tossing her in here, and he raises a brow at her blasé shrug. “Just if you were looking for an excuse, is all. I wouldn’t hold it against you if you wanted to defend my honour or something.”

The corner of his mouth ticks up in amusement. “I think you’re plenty capable of defending your own honour, love,” he tells her, brushing a stray lock of hair back over her shoulder. She watches him fight a smirk out of the corner of her eye. “There’s a bottle in my coat,” he says then. “If you don’t mind.”

Emma looks down at the heavy leather she’s still sitting on, the Mary Poppins bag of coats, and raises a brow at him. “You’re kidding right?”

Shaking his head with an exasperated sigh - the one she’s come to consider her own - he reaches over her, digging into one of the infinite pockets and she tries not to let him see the way her breath catches, heat burning low and slow everywhere he’s nearly touching her.

She could lean forward, just a fraction, and press her lips to the spot behind his ear, see if he’d say her name again in that shaky, pleading way he had before. If she kissed him now would he press her into the floor again, drag his tongue over her skin and make her fall apart with mouth and hand and cock? Would he let her do the same to him, let her bring him over that edge with her mouth on him, while she rode him?

Get a grip, she scolds herself when he finds what he’s looking for, pulling back to face her. She hopes he can’t read where her thoughts had strayed, can’t see the evidence she’s sure is written all over her, you literally just came three times. It’s just Neverland, just like it had been when she’d kissed him in his cabin and had been ready to let him fuck her on his desk where anyone could walk in (and had). It has to be - because if it’s not and it’s just him, then this could become a problem really quickly.

If Killian does notice though, he doesn’t say anything and her own spiralling thoughts are halted when she sees the bottle in his hand, the water swirling of its own volition, a pattern that has no ties to the world around it.

“Is that water from the spring?” she asks hesitantly as she watches him pour some onto another bit of cloth, one that looks like the same kind of bandage she’d made for him.

“Aye.”

“You’ve just been carrying that stuff around? Might have been helpful when you were stuck in that hospital bed.”

Another exasperated look. “I filled a bottle when we arrived - It doesn’t work in your realm. Thought it might come in handy. And look, it has.” She has to fight a laugh at his snark; he’s been spending too much time with her. “Now are you going to let me help you?” he asks, what was obviously originally a kind gesture now spoken with a familiar sigh that makes her catch her amusement between her teeth even as she nods and turns her back to him.

“How did you find out about this stuff?” she asks when his hook brushes her hair out of the way over her shoulder - mostly to distract herself from the feel of the metal against the nape of her neck, remembering it other places.

His tone is solemn when he answers though, cloth not touching her skin as he hesitates. “When I first came here… my brother was poisoned - dreamshade.” Brother? The water is cool against her back, his touch careful. “Pan showed me the spring.”

“The water saved him?”

The length of his pause makes her wish she hadn’t asked. “For a time.”

“He drank it.” It’s not a question and he doesn’t answer and her heart breaks for him. “And Pan let you leave.” How many people has he lost - how much pain has he suffered at the hands of the cruel people who took them from him? “Why did you come back?”

“Because I was a fool, looking for revenge against the Crocodile. Sometimes I wonder if he knew - if he showed me the dreamshade because he knew I’d return for it one day. He has a way of seeing people, finding the parts they don’t want seen, and using them to get what he wants.” She wants to tell him that he’s wrong, that whoever he thinks Pan saw in him isn’t who he is. But she can’t find the words, all of them sounding like platitudes. He misunderstands her silence. “Henry’s far stronger than I was, love. He won’t give in so easily.”

Killian presses the cloth to her back again, meticulous in his task and she wraps her arms around her knees, pulling them to her chest. “What did you say to him?”

She can feel the tension radiating off of him, matching it immediately. “Nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“I couldn’t risk him seeing me and knowing you were here. For all he is, Henry’s still a child, and little boys can’t keep secrets.”

“So what did you do?”

The way he clears his throat is almost indecipherable, his hand going over the same spot by her shoulder again and again, the scratch definitely gone by now. “Pan’s camp is always moving, but he also always sets it near a body of water, usually a stream.”

“Why?”

The cloth slides over her skin slowly, buying time, avoiding looking at her. “For the Lorelei.”

Emma whirls on him. “What?”

“Calm down, love,” he says softly, trying to get her to turn back around. “The sirens are his messengers; they relay his desires and bring him news of any stirrings on the island.”

“Killian. Did you send fucking Ianeira to him?” The mermaid who’s apparently so fond of drowning and eating humans.

“No.” She breathes a sigh of relief, but it’s short lived. “...Ianeira has a daughter.”

“What?!” That’s not any better.

“Swan.” He gives up his task for a moment, finally looking at her. “Do you really believe I’d have sought their help if they posed any threat to Henry? The Lost Boys are off limits to the Lorelei, and they’re on our side, bound by a bargain you made.” Her shoulders relax a little, still not happy about it. “The girl is hardly older than Henry in appearance. I thought she would have a better chance at getting through to him. The Lorelei can be…”

“Fucking terrifying?”

“Aye,” he nods. “She drew him from the camp and passed on our warning - that he can’t trust Pan, no matter what he says, that the hunt tomorrow is real and Pan would try and make him hurt the other boys, that if he did… he would never be able to leave Neverland.”

“Is that true?” Emma tries to keep the tremor out of her voice as she turns away, resting her chin on her knees. She doesn’t want to see his face when he answers. She'd rather be able to believe him if he lies.

“I don’t know,” he admits, drawing the healing water over a mark by her spine. “But we won’t find out, aye?”

She nods, halfheartedly. “And you’re sure he wasn’t there?”

“I watched the camp from the treeline all night and into the morning. Your boy resisted Pan’s manipulations. He’s stubborn, like his mother.” She shoots him a look over her shoulder, eyes narrowed and he smirks. “It’ll serve him well here. I kept watch until it would have been too late for him to join. I told you, love, he was far away from all of it.”

“But you weren’t.”

She feels his sigh hot against her skin. “I took a shortcut back to the ship. I couldn’t risk Pan wondering where I was when they reached the beach…”

Emma nods. “Today was -” She doesn’t have words for it.

“I know.” She feels the backs of his fingers ghost over the nape of her neck, brushing away hair that hasn’t fallen, thumb tracing along her nape. “I wish I could say it gets easier.”

She nods again - she wouldn’t believe him if he did - and tightens her arms around her knees, banishing the memories that try to creep in, wanting to stay here where they don’t exist for a little longer.

“So Ianeira has a kid.” He doesn’t comment on her change of subject, only hums. “She doesn’t really seem the motherly type.” And then thought suddenly strikes her. “Is she…”

Killian laughs. “Mine?” It’s not that ridiculous. He might have accidentally boned all the mermaids in Neverland. He could have dozens of little merbabies swimming around. “No, Swan, sirens don’t reproduce. They’re born of chance and magic, and very rare.”

“What about all your ‘creative’ encounters?”

“Those are… recreational.”

Emma rolls her eyes. “Of course they are.” She doesn’t have to see his smirk to know it’s there, hook looping around her arm, tugging it gently free from its death grip around her legs so he can tend to the skin she marked up in her attempt to escape. The water stings slightly, the cuts deeper there, the cloth no longer as cold. “I can’t believe she let you use her daughter,” she admits. “She was so protective of her sisters.”

Killian hums in agreement, “It took some convincing.”

“Did it?” She doesn’t think she’s ever failed so spectacularly at sounding indifferent.

He lets out a soft huff of laughter, lips pressing to the back of her shoulder before he rests his chin on it. “Jealous?”

Emma scoffs. “Yeah, right. You wish.”

He’s quiet for a moment, her teasing not returned and he takes a slow breath in, lifting his head to look at her, the weight of his gaze enough that she twists to meet it. His exhale is warm against the curve of her neck, the sincerity in his eyes stripped bare, holding her captive with their intensity. “Perhaps I do.”

She swallows, heart racing at his confession. Because that’s what it is, a confession of intentions, of feelings she’s not sure she can face - his or her own. He’s watching her, waiting, that openness, the little bit of hope she can see breaking through absolutely terrifying. It’s one thing to find comfort in each other after a tragedy. But this, what he’s so clearly asking, isn’t something she thinks she can give.

Her tongue runs over her lips, mouth suddenly dry, the motion drawing his attention and breaking whatever that was that just passed between them. Her voice is tinged with gravel when she tells him, “I think you’ve got enough jealous creatures on this island for one man to handle.”

Emma sees the barest hint of disappointment he lets slip and makes herself ignore it. “You make me sound like quite the scoundrel,” he smirks, reaching for his discarded shirt and draping it over her shoulders. “I assure you I can only devote myself to one woman at a time.”

She raises a brow at him, pulling the shirt closed around herself, feeling less vulnerable than she had a moment ago and she thinks maybe he’d known. “There were three fairies throwing themselves at you yesterday - four,” she corrects, having forgotten the handsome gold-hued man. She thinks she sees the slightest hint of a blush on his cheeks beneath the cocky shrug.

“That was Solstice. It doesn’t count.”

Emma rolls her eyes, pointing out for the second time, “How convenient.”

A thud from upstairs draws her attention, followed by a shout of pain, and she hears Will cursing. Stay bloody still, damnit. When she looks over at Killian, he’s watching the ceiling too, whatever lightness he may have held onto for a moment now gone.

“We should get up there,” she says, not looking forward to whatever devastation awaits them on deck. There’s no lesser horror. Either many survived and there’ll be dozens of wounded and traumatised children awaiting them, forced to join a life of being hunted by Pan forever, or there won’t be - and the beach will be littered with bodies.

“Aye,” he agrees, standing and finding his pants, tugging the leather over his hips as she does the same. She’s lacing them up when she notices his attention.

“What?”

“You’ve got my shirt.” She looks down at the soft black fabric he’d wrapped her in, then at the bloodied white shirt in his hand. “Not that you don’t look quite fetching in it, love, but unless you want Wendy and Scarlet to know -”

Emma snatches her shirt from him, shooting him a half-hearted glare. “Turn around.” The look he gives her tells her what she already knows, that she’s being absolutely ridiculous, but he just gives her an amused little smirk before doing as she asked. It’s not that she thinks Will and Wendy don’t already know, or that she’s oblivious to the fact that he’s already seen everything, but preparing to walk into a tragedy after they’ve been hiding down here, selfishly pretending it wasn’t happening, sends guilt churning in her stomach.

When she’s dressed, hat tugged low over her head to try and hide her face from the new boys, she lets him turn back around, tossing him his shirt and waiting until he pulls the heavy leather coat back over his shoulders. “Ready?”

No. She nods.

The scene is worse than she imagined. She’d been prepared for the blood, for the pain and the chaos as the crew do their best to tend to whatever injuries they can. There’s buckets of bloodied spring water, discarded bandages stained red, former Lost Boys shouting and struggling against the holds the pirates have on them as they try and heal them. They’re still the enemy, she realizes. They may have just been nearly murdered by their comrades but until this morning, the Jolly was enemy territory, and now they’re being held captive.

What she hadn’t been prepared for were the ones who weren’t injured, who weren’t fighting, the ones sitting along the side of the ship, knees curled tight to their chests and hands over their ears as they stare at nothing with eyes that aren’t seeing.

Killian moves quickly, hurrying over to where Will is trying to hold down a boy who looks about twelve while Wendy attempts to reset his leg, broken with an arrow pierced through the bone. He takes the boy’s shoulder and arm so Will can do the same, both pressing down on his torso until he can’t move - Emma looks away but she hears the crunch of bone and the scream nonetheless.

“Hand me some bandages.” It’s not until Wendy shouts her name that she realizes she’s talking to her, the boy still fighting, though he’s growing weaker now. She scrambles to grab some from one of the buckets, bringing them to her. The captain begins wrapping the injury with soaked bandages, the arrow that had pierced him used as a brace, and the kid’s eyes fade in and out of focus, finally shutting as he passes out.

“A little help!” one of the pirates calls, struggling under the weight of a boy only a few years younger than himself. A stain of dark red blood is blooming on his stomach, soaking through his leather vest and Emma doesn’t freeze this time, running over and looping the kid’s other arm over her shoulders. They set him down against the mainsail, Emma watching as the pirate, barely more than a teenager, pulls open the boy’s shirt.

“What happened?”

“Looks like a rapier,” he answers, inspecting the gash, blood flowing freely from it. “Gimme a hand,” he tells her and grabs the kid’s shoulder so they can turn him over. “Dammit. It’s gone right through him.” Emma doesn’t know much about medicine but she does know that without treatment, a stomach wound is basically a death sentence.

“Can you do anything?”

“Nothing good,” he sighs under his breath. He reaches into his pocket, pulling out a bottle like the one Killian carried and uncorking it. “Listen, mate, I can make this better okay?” The boy glares at him, face pale and clammy, distrusting. “If you drink this, you’ll live. If you don't, you're gonna die.” Emma’s thrown by his bluntness, by how calm he is despite being so young and she wonders how many hunts he’s already lived through. The boy continues to glare, looking away from him, rejecting the offer. “But if you do - hey,” he snaps, grabbing the kid’s chin and making him face him. “You’ll never get to leave, okay? You’ll be stuck here. Forever. And it fucking sucks here once you’re out. But you’ll be alive. And you’ll be one of us.”

“Can’t you just give it to him?” Emma demands, a second away from snatching the bottle and forcing it down the dying teenager’s throat.

The pirate shakes his head. “Captain’s rules.” She wonders which captain.

The boy still looks resistant, like he’d rather die than become a pirate than switch sides, regardless of what Pan’s just done to him. But then he starts to cough, a fit that takes over, the rough sound gurgling and wet as blood begins to drip from his lips and he turns panicked eyes on the pirate. The older boy nods, handing him the vial, but not letting go yet, waiting until the kid meets his gaze. “Never,” he reminds him. “You’ll never go home, okay?”

Emma watches him nod, bring the water to his bloodied mouth and drink, wincing and coughing as he tries to swallow, finally managing to get some down. They wait, a few long, drawn out moments, before the pirate looks at his wound again and Emma watches in amazement as it begins to close, blood flowing backwards along his torso in streams, pulled back into the tear in his skin.

The older boy pats his shoulder. “Try and get some rest. That’ll still hurt like a bitch for a while.” And then he’s gone, moved on to the next injured Lost Boy, and the next.

When everything is over, wounds bandaged, survivors counted, bodies laid carefully on the deck, a strange sort of silence settles over the ship. It’s not the silence of Neverland, that unending, eerie quiet, but the silence of dozens choosing not to speak, unable to speak in the wake of bloodshed. A crew member is cleaning the deck, the oldest here by far in his mid twenties, gaze somehow both unbothered and far away as he mops up the blood that ripples with the whim of the spring water spilled on the wood. Will is over by the side of the ship, talking to some of the boys who won’t speak, who don’t look at anything, voice falling low and gentle on deaf ears.

Wendy and Killian are with the dead, placing coins over their eyes and wrapping their bodies in sails. She can count five, five who made it to safety only to die on the bow of the Jolly. Emma stares out at the beach. There are more than five out there. Almost a dozen Lost Boys left out under the hot sun.

Sometime, this has been both the shortest and longest day of her life - the sun setting before it had managed to reach its highest point in the sky.

Killian had explained, as she’d helped to place a boy gently on a stretch of canvas and sew the fabric around him, that night always came quickly after a hunt. “There’s always a celebration for the victors.” Wendy had said the word with so much disgust it made Emma’s stomach turn. “They feast and fly and dance around the fire, bragging about their conquests.”

“Did you ever-” she started, but stopped when the woman’s face darkened, regret and anger. “I’m sorry.”

“They’re children,” is all Wendy gave in answer, casting a look towards Will, still trying to reach a boy, shaking and huddled by the helm. “So were we.”

Sleep doesn’t come easy, the sound of footsteps above her making her jerk awake - boys who’d refused to take a bunk below deck, still not willing to accept their new fate, their new role on this island. Voices set her heart racing, forgetting every time that the hunt is over. The crying tonight is louder than it’s been since she arrived, and the sounds of celebration carry over on the water.

She wants to go up there, wants to help them in a way she couldn’t this morning. But she saw the way they looked at her on deck, anger and hatred and fear. She’d be no comfort to them, not as a pirate. She could as herself, as a mother like ones they keep calling out for even now. Little boys can’t keep secrets. Emma’s shared her secret enough on this island. She can’t risk it without knowing they’re allies.

Knowing that doesn’t make it any less horrible, doesn’t make the guilt any lighter or stop each wail from piercing through her chest. And it doesn’t bring sleep either. She hears the door to the room beside her open quietly and shut with a click, hears the muffled voices, one hissed anger and the other gentle compassion, back and forth until they both go silent, finding comfort amidst the chaos.

It makes her want to cry, to let her own tears join those she only hears because she’s always been alone, because she’s always been abandoned - time and again. That may be the worse part, the small, selfish part of her that couldn’t help but understand their sorrow. She’s never lived through anything like they just have, but she knows that betrayal, the heartbreak of having trusted someone so completely, only to be cast aside. Alone again. Always alone.

“Emma?” He’s not asleep when she sneaks into his cabin, pads across the small space to his bed. He’s half sat up, hand reaching instinctively for his sword at the first creak of the door opening, but his brace and hook are on the small table beside him, blunted arm and chest bare, sheets pooled in his lap. “What’s wrong?”

She tries to answer, all of her explanations feeling weak, and her words get caught on a shaky inhale. She doesn’t want to talk about it, so instead she closes the rest of the distance between them, climbing carefully into the bed beside him and sliding beneath the covers. He tenses for a moment when she curls herself against his side, head resting tentatively on his shoulder, but then he softens, letting out a breath and sinking back against the pillows.

His arm hovers, hesitating before wrapping around her. She brings her own hand to his chest, focusing on the feel of the dark hair beneath her fingers rather than the way her hands still shake, listening to the rise and fall of his breaths rather than the sobs upstairs she can’t escape, and the steady beat of his heart as she tries to forget all the ones that won’t beat again.

His lips press to her crown, not quite a kiss as he speaks against her hair. “Sleep, love. Neverland can’t find you here.”

******

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