#plenty of kings are getting killed

[transrevolutions]

how does that meme go again uh. save me daenerys targaryen

[abyssalpriest]

God I could and should write a whole fucking book by the end of this life here on Lev and his symbols

ill write it then burn it before anyone else gets a copy. or i wont. im supposed to be helping him this incarnation here to get a better anchor in this plane so maybe it would help more than itd be weird - im just getting from him the energy of "yeah no people already effectively have these things, people on my plane already know me inside and out to an extensive degree, may as well have it here too" you know. fair

[leafyeyes417]

Deal or No Deal

Danny, after he became Ghost King, was often summoned. After a time he got tired of the constant ‘cleanse the world’ and ‘give me immortality’ summons. At first he always refused them, as he had no need to kill when all would become his subjects eventually anyway. Then he thought of a plan which would hopefully change things.

So, using his domain as the Ancient of Space he created the Existing Prison. It was a world that only he had access to, that kept all who stayed in it existing until he released them. He used his power to slip plenty of warnings about the price of asking a protector for things not in his domain. Then he started to accept the immortality askers deal. He would kill their mortal forms and place their soul into the new cage. They could continue to exist for as long as they wanted. He would decide when to release their soul to their chosen afterlife on a case by case basis.

As for the world cleansers, he created another world for that, in combination with Nocturn and Clockwork. It was a shifting world. Those placed inside would be in a waking dream. They would get everything they wanted while living out the remainder of their mortal life span. The dream they lived was shaped by Clockwork’s time ability. If their desired cleansing made the world end then they would live through the nightmare.

He had quickly noticed a difference in the amount of summonings after he started his new policy. It seems removing all the crazies made a marked difference. The ones that paid attention to his warning got to continue as is, and those who didn’t were removed so as not to cause anymore trouble. It actually helped fulfill his Protection Obsession.

Then he met the Justice League. Having to explain that just because he was The Benevolent King didn’t mean he wouldn’t remove problems was a headache.

[copperhawks]

The funniest thing to me about Kel, and maybe one of the most interesting because of how understated it is, is that Kel becomes a good commander in the end, not by emulating Wyldon who was cold and implacable and insensitive, or by emulating Raoul who mostly only disobeys orders out of principle or because he has an issue with what the order says about his personal relationship with Jon, but by emulating JON.

Kel doesn't even LIKE Jon, she BARELY respects him as a person. He's a good enough ruler that she's willing to fight for him and swear loyalty to him and to at least mostly believe that he wouldn't work with Blayce to make his own killing monsters, but that's as far as it goes for Kel. If he's kind to her, she finds it uncomfortable and almost untrustworthy because she assumes he doesn't care about her and so his kindness and respect towards her must be fake.

But from the outside, as readers, we know just how much Jon fought for Kel. We know how much he does respect her right to be a knight. Jon is the sole reason that Kel DID get the opportunity to prove herself, if he'd capitulated to Wyldon completely, she just wouldn't have ever been allowed to join. Kel doesn't KNOW THAT, obviously, but we do. We know that Jon did everything he could to find a way to convince Wyldon to let Kel become a page. While Wyldon claims later that the reason he chose to let her stay at the end of the probation year was because his better judgment convinced him she'd earned it, I'd be willing to bet that part of that better judgment also included knowing if he couldn't prove to JON that she needed to go, then he'd be in trouble. Kel was training and working in front of plenty of other trainers and teachers who could easily contradict Wyldon's lies if he'd tried it, many of whom are closer to Jon than they are to Wyldon.

Kel's experiences and feelings about that experience are entirely valid, and she doesn't have the knowledge we do about how hard Jon fought for her, so it's not shocking that she's upset with him for a good portion of her series. She never even discovers this truth by the end of her series, even though she does get a lesson from Jon and Thayet (and Raoul to some degree) about how politics and compromises work in order to make changes happen. So her opinion of him by the end is boiled down to the quote from Squire: "good kings weren't always good men." It makes sense for her to think this, but because Kel's knowledge base is so limited (and her worldview so black and white for much of her series), it makes her an EXTREMELY unreliable narrator about this particular issue.

Kel believes that while Jon generally does his duty and keeps the peace, he doesn't actually care all that much about his people as individuals. But in their only meaningful conversation in Squire, Jon is able to point out that he (and Thayet, who is actually equal to Jon in power, something Kel either doesn't know which would be a failure in her education or just tends to ignore so she can focus her ire on Jon) has to make a LOT of compromises in order to get ANYTHING useful done at all. Sometimes, often, it means making deals with people he doesn't like or people he just fundamentally disagrees with, because it's the first step in a multi-step plan to help more people in the long run. He also points out that just throwing his weight and authority around in order to be able to change everything he wants to change immediately regardless of what anyone else thinks about it is a great way to get himself and his family killed. Because even if he had good intentions, that would be tyranny. It does make Kel think a little, but she doesn't tend to like him much still afterwards, her resentment from her page years will always color her opinion of him a little.

However, then she gets to Haven and she's suddenly tossed into a position of leadership over a lot of other people, many of whom disagree with each other or disagree with her or both. And all of the sudden, Kel has to make compromises. She doesn't LIKE the way the sergeants often treat their men, especially the sergeants whose men are convicts, but there's very very little she can do about it without really pissing off those same sergeants and that's not something she can afford to do. There's a moment when Neal starts getting frustrated about the treatment of the convicts and she takes him out to vent to her so he doesn't vent to the sergeants, something that the sergeants would then take out on their men. Kel's reasoning as she does this is that she "preferred to avoid battles with them now so she would have authority with them later if she needed to use it." Later, Kel is talking to Daine and she says "That's all this job is... Trying to please everyone and pleasing no one. And it will only get worse, not better."

Both of these moments showcase Kel choosing to make compromises. She may not like the way the sergeants treat the convicts, but she needs to stay on the sergeants' good sides because she doesn't have enough resources to butt heads with them nor enough authority to just force the issue, and even if she DID, it could cause the sergeants to become troublesome or take out their frustration with her on the men in ways she can't see as well. But staying on the sergeants' good sides might mean letting some of their maltreatment slide if it's not physically harming the convicts. And even setting that aside, she's dealing with nearly 500 refugees eventually, all of which are from different towns in the area and have different needs, not all of which she can accommodate. This requires compromise. Sometimes she can please some of them and not others, but mostly she probably just ends up not pleasing anybody because that's often how compromises WORK.

She never makes the active connection to Jon and his lesson on leadership from Squire while she's in Haven, but that quote up there about how this job (aka being a commander) is all about trying to please everyone and pleasing no one? It sounds a HECK of a lot like "good kings weren't always good men." You can try your best to help others, but often doing the right thing can involve making everyone unhappy. You can't be everybody's friend if you're going to get anything done.

Some of this she might've learned from Raoul's style of command, but Raoul commands a fairly small amount of people (at least in comparison to a King), and so we see him able to be pretty friendly to the people he commands in a way that Jon is perhaps unable to do. And she might believe that she learned some of this from Wyldon, but Wyldon had a tendency to be very unfair and biased due to his raging bigotry and conservative values, as well as the fact that he doesn't actually even LIKE being a training master and that likely impacted the way he treated the pages (he's almost never that kind to the pages, whereas we see him capable of being quite kind with the refugees later, which is where Kel comes to the conclusion that he hadn't enjoyed being a training master).

But Jon makes an entire speech about how he (and Thayet) have been working THEIR ENTIRE REIGN to change laws that help people. He explains how they have to consider the needs of merchants, nobles, farmers, street people, priests/priestesses, and mages. They have to consider not only what these people might need or want, but also what they could do when they feel sufficiently offended and how that could impact not just the royal family or the nobility but the realm as a whole. Jon points out that they HAVE made changes, for the better, and that just because they don't always succeed at everything or because they have to compromise sometimes, doesn't mean they aren't working at making changes or that they don't care about helping people. Not everyone you have power over is going to be your friend, they might not even be someone you like. But if you're going to take on the job of leadership, that's something you have to be willing to accept and work with, which often means making compromises with people whose needs and values are contradictory to your own.

Jon probably knows when he makes the compromise with Wyldon that it will likely impact a lot of people's good opinion of him. Alanna is right there and clearly angry, and we know Thayet doesn't like the decision, either. And it's entirely possible that Jon knows in the moment that Kel herself will put the blame on him because he's the King. But he also knows that if he insists on Kel being allowed to be a page without trying to compromise with Wyldon, Wyldon will quit over it and he'll end up with ten DIFFERENT problems that could cause a lot bigger issues to far more people than just one girl. So he makes the compromise. He sacrifices Alanna and Thayet and even Kel's good opinion of him in order to ensure that Kel gets the opportunity to become a Knight without turning all of his nobles against him which could ultimately lead to a civil war. Is it fair? No, and he knows it. But it's the best option he has in order to get the outcome they all actually want which is just for Kel to have the chance to prove herself.

Kel has to make similar choices once she's finally in a position of leadership of her own. And whether she realizes it or not, without ever even spending more than a few minutes with Jon, she ends up emulating his leadership style more than anybody else's because it WORKS and it works WELL. She'll probably never admit it, she might never even realize it herself, but she's so much more like Jon than any of the other men she sees as role models. And I love that. I love the dramatic irony of that, that the one person Kel only barely respects because of a compromise he made on her behalf that she'll never even know about, is the person Kel ends up most resembling. Jon is the reason she has the opportunity to become the Protector of the Small in the first place, Jon is the person who created that environment that allowed her to nurture those values, and she'll probably never even really be able to acknowledge that, because sometimes that's what being a good leader means.

[bookshelf-in-progress]

A Father's Heart: A Beauty and the Beast Retelling

For the Four Loves Fairy Tale Challenge at @inklings-challenge

Let me tell you, I sure confused that Beast when I returned. Have you ever seen a cat pounce on its own tail? That was the look of confusion the Beast had when he saw me in his palace. Only this cat was enormous—standing seven feet tall on his hind legs—black as soot, with claws this long, and a mouth full of teeth like butcher knives.

"Where is your daughter?" he asked me. Yes, that's what he sounded like—all deep and raspy, like he was growling and purring beneath his words.

"At home," I said.

"You did not bring her?"

“You told me,” I told him, "that I could return to be devoured or send her to take my place. I returned.”

"She did not wish to save you?"

“I never told her. Do you think I could lay that kind of burden upon my own daughter? What sort of father do you take me for?”

He had taken me for a cowardly one, I guess, because it took me a long time to convince him that my daughters were all safely at home, and I didn't plan to fetch any of them. He didn't seem to know what to do with me after that. He wasn't as bloodthirsty as I'd have expected someone with that many teeth to be.

"You will be my guest," he said at last—and he didn't seem too glad about saying it. No doubt he'd have preferred a pretty young girl as a houseguest to a weathered old sailor. But he gave me run of the place—I could help myself to anything, go anywhere I pleased. I didn't understand it. He'd been ready to kill me for a rose, and now he was giving me everything in the house?

I wasn't about to complain, though, so I set about to enjoy the place. The Beast encouraged me to enjoy the luxuries of the palace, but I've always been a working man—I didn't fancy living the life of an idle aristocrat. Before the week was out, I was working in the gardens—the place was overgrown like you wouldn't believe. When I wanted a rest, I'd explore the castle, and boy, was there plenty to see. He had rooms upon rooms of treasures—paintings, silks, wines, musical instruments, even an entire room full of exotic birds! I'd made my living selling such things, and my head swam at the sight of it—a tenth of it would have been worth more than all the riches I could have transported in ten lifetimes.

I didn't make my fortune by having dull wits, and I didn't lose it for lack of courage, so it wasn't long before I began to piece together the truth of this place and confronted the Beast with it.

"How long have you been cursed, your highness?" I asked him one evening at supper.

That great big cat was so shocked he knocked a wine bottle off the table. "Who says I am cursed?"

"Blazes, man, I'm not blind! This palace is worth more than most of the kingdoms of the world put together. If there was a king out there this rich, you can bet every merchant in the world would know of him. He'd have destroyed the world's economy. Fairy magic's the only way you get a horde like this, but you, sir, are no fairy."

Now the Beast seemed intrigued. "How do you know that?"

"A fairy would never have let me live—if he promised to kill me, he'd have killed me. No mercy among their kind. Only a human could have changed his mind like that—for which I'm very grateful, by the way."

"You're welcome," he said, seeming dazed.

I went on, "You're definitely more than a dumb beast; you walk and talk and dress like a man, so it stands to reason you were a man once—that furry coat of yours is just some fairy shell. Same way all these riches are probably just dirt and ashes once you take away the magic. Which means you must have run afoul of a fairy sometime in your past, who decided to curse you with an animal body and then trap you in a palace full of false riches."

I looked at the furnishings, the food, the Beast's clothes—everything spoke of royalty. "Fairies always meddle with royals, so you must have been a prince. The seventh son of the king of Gher went missing just before I went on my last voyage, so I'd wager that he is you. Am I right?"

The Beast goggled. "I…can't say."

"Which means I'm right. No fairy worth his salt would let you say you were cursed. Which means all I have to do is figure out how to break it. Those fairies always give you a way out—the more improbable the better."

I came around to his side of the table so I could walk around him and examine him from all angles. "You were disappointed when I came—you wanted one of my daughters, not me. When I did come, you didn't seem too keen on killling me—which makes me think it was an empty threat, trying to convince me to send my daughter instead. Which means she must be the way to break the curse. What can she do that I can't? Easy—true love. No fairy would think a girl could love a hulking monster like you, so that would be their impossible way to break the curse. You needed, what—true love? Marriage?"

"I can't say," the Beast said, but I knew by his face that I'd hit upon the right answer.

"That makes things simple. You let me out once before. Let me go home again and fetch one of my girls, tell her there's a prince waiting for her, and bring her back to join you in wedded bliss."

He seemed genuinely horrified by that. "I…can't say."

"Oh, of course. It won't count if she knows you're a prince. Well, I'll leave that part out. Tell her that the Beast who spared my life is in need of more company. With a bit of time and a bit of encouragement from her old dad, we'll have you back in human form by Christmas."

He thought it was worth a try, and something he could arrange with the conditions of his curse. So I went home to my children, convinced my sons not to follow me to slay the Beast, and made the castle sound intriguing enough that all three of my girls agreed to join me. I thought that maybe Hope would be the one to break the curse—she's always been the boldest of my girls—but it turned out that my quiet, gentle Beauty brought out the soft side of the Beast. It was the cutest thing you ever saw, the way they'd sit together reading in the rose gardens, that great big cat as shy as a schoolboy with her.

It wasn't three weeks before the Beast worked up the courage to propose—and my Beauty accepted without hesitation. Then there was blinding light and earthquakes, and when the dust cleared, the palace was gone. We were standing in a clearing in the woods—and a black-haired prince stood where the black-haired Beast had once been.

He's an excellent boy—I'll be proud to call him a son. He doesn't mind at all that his bride's the daughter of a failed merchant or that she once worked on a farm. We'll all be moving to his palace across the sea to live as honored members of the family.

Which is why we're moving out on such short notice—his highness doesn't want to be away from his kingdom any longer than he has to. I'm sure you'll find someone else to take the old place off your hands.

No, you don't have to believe me, but it's much better if you do. You'll look much less like a fool once it comes out that it's all true.

[mikansei]

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some weird guy who wears a statue on his head, who was kind of a dick to us, but then we went on a little entomological field trip where he was oddly encouraging. surprisingly nice to us afterward for all that he literally interrogated us first. but herta runs around as a doll and we're plenty weird ourselves, so dr. ratio is whatever, i guess. we probably think of him as "that weirdo who was on the herta space station once," which is an association i'm sure he'd hate - but hey, at least we don't call him "scholar king."

from the trailblazer's perspective:

we met some flashy IPC guy because we accidentally held him up in line at the hotel check-in, himeko tried to negotiate and it turns out he's a professional cutthroat negotiator, but it all worked out and he gave us his fancy room. he also loomed over us with freaky glowing eyes and maybe threatened us, but it was kinda vague and it's not like he really hurt us. well... until he did. the trailblazer gets the opportunity to be verbally sore about that, but the fight didn't really feel like cocolia, like phantylia; like aventurine had gone mad and wanted to take over and/or destroy the world. his grandstanding didn't make any sense to us at the time, though, and fighting him sucked ass. but we lived and - as we found out eventually - so did he.

then the trailblazer boards the radiant feldspar, and we see aventurine's hologram talking with ...boothill? okay. who explicitly says they're working out some kind of shady underhanded deal to find oswaldo schneider which, subtlety thy name is not boothill, but that's none of our business i guess. but aventurine's there(-ish) and alive and not cackling mad, which is an improvement.

then we go into the next room over and see that herta space station weirdo, dr. ratio.

huh???

and the first thing he says to us is "no wonder that gambler likes you so much."

huh???????

everything about this is news to the trailblazer. since when is dr. ratio not only on penacony, but in the dreamscape, aboard the exclusive invitation-only dream cruise ship? since when does he not only know of aventurine, but was apparently on this mission with him? since when does aventurine like us??? we just got done mutually trying to kill each other! his hologram didn't seem sore about it, which is great for us, but doesn't exactly translate into "like!"

why are we hearing this from him and not aventurine? why does he know aventurine's thoughts on us in the first place?

dr. ratio really just shows up, yaps about aventurine unprompted, recommends us reading material, complains about the crowd and then is like "k i'm done here. ur dismissed."

the trailblazer had bigger things to think about but i, the player, do not. the fandom at large may feel like 2.3 fell flat, but the fall of the roman empire is still within the wheelhouse of my roman empire. i never left the radiant feldspar. i am still aboard this fucking ship.

[r0-boat]

Whb 7 Kings react to sick!reader

WHB x Fem!reader

Sfw but suggestive thanks to several demons.

This post is a gift for @notquitebunnie

But all can read!

To anyone who is sick and finds this rest well! Make sure to eat and drink plenty of water! :)

This is a Headcannon formatted like a storyline! All devil and their parts written will be out of order to fit the plot!! Please enjoy~

Intro:

Did you think just because you were in hell you were safe from the cons of human mortality... Well maybe you did. Until you where woken up by the churning nausea You felt in your stomach the metallic taste on your tongue as your mouth screams for water. But as you turned to get up you crushing feeling of weakness and a searing migraine hits you like a train.

Your nose was stuffy, and it hurt to swallow, Your body ached and you somehow felt cold. You wish you never woke up as you tossed the sheets back over your body cocooning yourself.

But that sweet, sweet relief of peace didn't last long, as your bedroom door slammed open. The lock on your door snapped under the pressure of being forced open, and the loud noise made your head throb. Oh God, how could you forget where you are and who you surround yourself with?

Satan

The human who usually comes for the breakfast and tea Sitri prepares every morning has not even shown up. Sitri was way more pressed about it than Satan who just told Sitri to fuck off. He knew what it's like The sleep inn. Sometimes, your body just doesn't feel ready to get up yet. "Eh fuck off. You're worrying too much... Being 10 minutes late ain't going to kill you..." But then Sitri replied. " When I press my ear to the door that's Solomon usually keeps locked her heartbeat was about 30% faster than it usually is!"

Satan cussed under his breath. This is a human we're talking about—a human the angels are gnashing their teeth to kill. A faster heart rate is a good sign of stress, and if the daughter of Solomon is stressed, there must be a reason. Maybe checking in on her wouldn't hurt.

Caring little for the new lock she installed on her door, he practically beat the door off its hinges as he stormed into the room with Sitri in tow. "HEY! WAKEY WAKEY WOMAN!"

Satan yells as he marches over to your bed carelessly grabbing the sheets and tossing it off. As soon as he saw your body curled up wincing in pain trying to hide your eyes from the bright light he immediately sensed something was wrong. Immediately his harsh tone softens But on the inside his boiling hot rage only increased, seeing her like this made his blood boil. "Is everything all right?!" He hissed through his teeth as his hands quick and urgently checked for any wounds. "You're not physically hurt... What the fuck?"

With a pissed off grow your weak voice managed to tremble out "get out Satan! Trying to fucking sleep I don't feel good..."

Getting yelled at by you was always a treat as he felt his heart flutter, but there were more concerning matters at play. "Fuck no I'm not getting the fuck out. What's wrong with you? Why do you not feel good?!"

You knew screaming at him would just encourage his behavior so you just stayed silent putting the pillow over your head trying your best to ignore him.

Despite you telling him to leave you alone Satan stayed in your room all day on his knees his chin resting on the mattress He looks like a kicked puppy waiting for its master has he pestered you with all kinds of questions that you couldn't nor cared little to answer. "Did you eat something bad?"

"no."

"Is it poison?"

"no."

"are you sure you didn't get stabbed or shot or-"

"No!"

...

... "Is your pussy shedding?"

*irritated sighs*

Mammon

Satan didn't want to do this but he had no choice. if it had something to do with Solomon wants to send it it was a national hell-wide issue. But to not cause complete chaos he couldn't just release it to the public that's something was wrong with Solomon's daughter. So for now he told someone who's he's the closest to.

And he regretted it instantly.

Satan: I think our human is broken.

SilverSpoonBitch: ???

Satan: *sends a picture of a sick human lying face down on the bed.*

SilverSpoonBitch: Maybe she is finally tired of being around poor people.

Satan: ARE YOU FUCKING SERIOUS I BEEN TRYING TO ASK YOU FOR FUCKING HELP CAN'T YOU JUST COME OVER WITH YOUR FANCY LITTLE GADGETS AND SHIT AND TELL ME WHAT THE FUCK IS GOING ON IF SHE DIES I'M KILLING YOU.

Mammon came as quickly as he could his helicopter landing right in front of Satan's palace. Instead of a warm welcome he was instead screamed at by a tiny flee.

"CAN YOU FUCKING TRAVEL HERE NORMALLY?!" Satan snarled the way his hair was standing on end and his back was arched to reminded Mammon of an angry kitten.

"Relax my tiny terror. The helicopter is here for a reason. How else am I going to get here with all these things... You told me to bring whatever I could to see what's wrong with her, did you not?" Say no only answered with a growl as Bimet steps out the other side of the helicopter. "Also your majesty Satan. Could you provide us with extra hands? "

...

Great, more noise—that's exactly what you needed. You heard whispered voices coming down the hall. You fake sobbed to yourself as you pressed harder into the pillow. The door that you spent precious time and energy on and also risked the tea you had for breakfast propping up just tipped back and slammed onto the marble floor. You heard Bimet's voice first. "I've seen her look bad wearing hobo rags but never like this... "

Mammon hummed putting a hand to his chin "indeed She looks like she's in pain? Are you sure you checked for wounds?"

"I TOLD YOU FOR THE LAST TIME I DID SHE'S IN PAIN BUT I DON'T KNOW WHERE THE FUCK THE WOUND IS I DON'T EVEN KNOW IF THERE IS ONE!?"

Fuck you Satan and you're loud ass voice.

Mammon then chuckles. "Oh you innocent little thing... Have you ever thought about internal bleeding?!" Sitri and Satan's eyes widen as they never thought about that before.

Bimet chimes in with a proud smile "His Majesty Mammon and just blessed you with his wealthy knowledge! Your majesty, you are truly a gift to this world!"

Mammon gets closer You felt his big hands on you, normally you would be more than okay with this but today all you wanted to do was crawl into a hole and never be seen again as you felt his strong hand stroking all over your body trying to find where you might have damaged something inside you. When his fingers pressed on your stomach your eyes shut open. You felt it. The churning in your stomach finally winning you over the devil's watched with wide eyes and shock as you sprint to the bathroom attached to your bedroom life your life depended on it. You didn't even care closing the door as everything you tried eating and have drank goes down the drain. You've never seen such a look on Mammon as he scoops you up off the bathroom floor cleaning your mouth with his own clothes. You putting you back in bed.

"This is serious..." Mammon growls. "I didn't feel any internal bleeding... But when I pressed over her stomach that's what she did. I know very little about stomachs and food... Buuut we know someone who might..."

Beelzebub

Beelzebub Who is leaning against the door just called out to the devil's in front of him "You called?" He said with a sly smile as Mammon and Satan turned around to face him. "The hell did you come from?" Satan asked.

"I mean I was just wondering around but it was hard to miss the giant golden helicopter flying above me. " Beelzebub said his finger twirling to mimic a helicopter.

"So what's happening here?" He asked walking over to your bed sitting on the mattress next to you gently rubbing your side.

"We don't know. I found the daughter of Solomon like this. I thought someone was hurting her. There's something wrong, but we don't know what it is." Satan explained as Mammon continued. " I thought it might have been internal bleeding since Satan found no wounds. So I checked her body for it, but when I pressed on her stomach, she threw up. " Beelzebub's eyebrows furrowed immediately. "Has she eaten anything?" He asked, and Sitri shook his head. " No, Solomon didn't come down for breakfast. It looks like she drank some of the tea I left for her. But It doesn't matter now since She threw it all up. "

"could you prepare something to eat please? Of course she would probably feel pain in her stomach if she doesn't have any food in it. And she probably feels weak because of it as well. "

Satan and Mammon ordered their second in command-to prepare something. The devil Kings continued to discuss and fill in each other today. All this chatter was seriously not helping, as every now and then you would grumble and turn as much as Beelzebub's constant stroking on your back felt good. It was getting old pretty fast. The way she was tossing and turning her eyes glute shut The three kings decided to add another into their mission as Beel pulled out his phone to text an old friend. "You think he'll respond?" Mammon asks leaning over to look at the text message between Beel and Beleth.

"ya, I know Beleth Will respond but... Belphegor. Ehh It will be a while till he gets here."

Sitri comes in with hearty meats from barbecued pulled pork to premium steak then some lambs do with chopped and stewed potatoes. Bimet comes in with stressed rice dishes and grilled fish. Cooked and even plated to perfection Even some smoked salmon and caviar.

You are not hungry in fact the opposite just smelling the food in the room was making You want a hurdle

"Solomon's not eating..." Says a worried Sitri as they watched you for a while only for you to do nothing.

"obviously she's too weak She's gone too long without food we're going to have to feed her."

That sentence from the king of gluttony made you wince without your blanket of protection you just weekly tried to fight back as all you wanted to do was sleep. "Please can I please just go to sleep!"

"Solomon you can't not until you eat something!" Sitri spoke softly trying to spoon feed you a piece of steak but being careful and not being too forceful.

"our methods aren't working... And we don't want to hurt her." Satan hissed.

"I know just the guy that will make her eat." Beel chirped.

Leviathan

When he heard that something was happening to her. They made it sound like she was dying and at first they thought they were just exaggerating until he saw the state she was in.

He wanted to kill and maim everyone in the goddamn room as soon as he saw her. She looked like a disaster She looked like she was already one foot in the grave. "How could you fucking leave her like this?!" "How long was she like this!!"

They tried calming Leviathan down and explaining the situation.

Levi's and stomped over to your bed sliced a piece of something grabbed your face forcefully and tried to force your mouth open.

"You will eat this goddamn food and you will like it!!!" You are screaming back at Leviathan as the two of you start fighting. Every last bit of your strength you could muster from this hellish morning trying to fight off the one bastard you did not want to see today. You look toward the five other devils in the room, screaming for help. Only for them to look to the side, ignoring your cries for help.

"It's for your own good Solomon" Sitri muttered.

When you finally ate some by courtesy and help from your dear Leviathan.❤️

You laid down on the ground catching your breath. For a moment the king's watched you finally thinking they could arrest before you launched up running to the bathroom once more.

"This may take a while..." Beelzebub sighs

"if her body isn't cooperating then we're going to have to force it" Leviathan hissed getting a dark look in his eye that made you shudder as Mammon princess carried you back to your bed.

Belphegor

Belphegor finally arrived on Beleth's back; when he finally entered the room, he woke up with a yawn and a stretch. Beleth set him down on a nearby chair before walking up to Beel. "Sup, your majesty," He says, giving him a handshake. "Aye! I'm all right. Have you tried the stuff I sent you?" As the two talked, Belphegor scooted his chair closer to your bed. " Hm? Sooo... What's goin on?" He leaned to the side, his elbow into the mattress, resting his head on his hand, occasionally closing his eyes for a power nap as they explained. "So the girl just needs sleep eh? Why'd ya call me then? Just close ya eyes, ain't hard. "

"You think she hasn't tried that already we would watch her go to sleep and then wake up. Plus it's hard to sleep when she's rushing to the bathroom every hour."

"did ya feed her?" He asked.

"yep, the finest foods from Tartaros. Didn't matter. She wouldn't keep it down" Mammon answered.

"Well, shit... Anythin puts me to sleep so I ain't sure how to deal with this." Belphegor muttered studying your face You look lethargic but not sleepy

"tsk! Can you be any more useless??? Can't you just use your power to put her to sleep?" Levi's and said his arms crossed his foot tapping.

"I wouldn't do that if I were you Majesty Leviathan." Beleth piped up Make it his way to the other side of the bed His hand running through your hair as he pet you. "if we try that she might not wake up for years maybe even decades."

"Okay so that's out, So What the fuck are we going to do sing her lullabies?!" Satan growled

Belphegor did smile and chuckle at the joke but turned to Beleth "This thinking is hard, You got any ideas?"

Beleth Who was petting your head rolled his hand over your forehead His eyebrows creased as they pressed harder taking your temperature. "Your Maj, She's hot..."

"okay no shit?" Belphegor responded His eyebrow raised.

"No your Maj, I mean her temperature. Kind of reminds me of that Christmas cold she got a while back; remember, When she was hotter than a desert in a summer drought."

At this revelation Satan snarled clutching his fists. "So she's holding back her desires again?!"

He stomped forward tearing his white top clean off already but Mammon stopped him "Your eagerness is welcomed but She might already be too far gone, She can't even keep food down I've never seen a Christmas cold do that but can't be good."

"IT'S WHAT THE FUCK DO YOU WANT ME TO DO TO STAND THERE WHILE SHE FUCKING DIES?!" Satan screamed this time grabbing Mammon by the collar.

Belphegor already nodding off mumbles "Eh, Maybe you just need someone so lustful that it could cure her even like this."

Someone so lustful...

They all knew who he meant by that but none of the kings wanted to acknowledge him. But it had to be done... For your safety...

Asmodeus

Devils from Gehenna either coward in fear or immediately presented themselves in front of the king of the last as he made his way toward the room where he was called to do his 'work.' This was hardly the time of year to even catch the Christmas call, but who is he to complain? The six Kings, the six th buffoons, called upon him to do a task he possibly cannot refuse! So, despite women and men alike throwing their naked bodies at him, it pained him, but he had to refuse, for someone far greater waited for him.

He was already ready when he entered the room, wearing a red bathrobe and a leather case containing God knows what. The Kings stepped out of their way as he walked forward, literally in the middle of loosening his robes before getting a look at you. His eager smile disappears and is replaced by a concerned and confused look. Despite how hard he was, and believe me, he was fucking rigid. You can't expect them not to be, getting a call from the 6th most handsome devil in all of hell offering him to fuck the one woman you desire and all the world while they watch. A dream come true. But... What he was saying was not the symptoms of a Christmas cold...

"Um... excuse me, but could you mind filling me in on what happened today?" The devils were just as confused as he was, so they relented. They told him everything: the weakness in his body, the refusal to eat, the constant puking, the agitated mood, the heavy breathing, the sweaty body, everything.

And Asmodeus was staring at them eyes wide in silence.

The slut was too stunned to speak.

He stood there in silence until it finally broke but with a wheeze

And then laughter.

Not just laughter.

He was dying.

He laughed so hard that he was trying not to cough. He held his stomach, trying to keep his composure so he would not be on the floor.

He had tears in his eyes as the six kings watched as the king of lust laughed his ass off for 5 minutes before finally regaining composure and wiping the tears from his face. He tied up his robe, grabbed the blanket that had been discarded on the floor this whole time, and sat on the bed with a softened look, tucking you in.

"Are you truly this foolish? Or Is your knowledge of humans this lacking?" He asked as he looked back at the six, trying to hide the anger and embarrassment of how hard he laughed. Before Satan was about to yell Asmodeus continued. "This is no Christmas cold, nor is it a curse; she's not hurt from the inside and the outside, well, not physically... I think she's just sick. Plain and simple. "

The room was silent. And Belphegor was sleeping (possibly wanting to be woken up after the sex is over.)

"I've seen plenty of devils get sick before none of them act like this?" Leviathan questioned pointing to all of you in a slight condescending tone.

"well that's the thing my pretty princess, It's that humans immune systems are not as strong as a devil's. We are sick for hours rarely a day but when humans get sick they They can be sick for possibly days..."

He explains while his gentle hands look over at the barely eaten food keep picked up a small empty bowl getting a spoon scooping up some white rice and some miso soup to mix it together. Something light and good for the stomach.

"Here, my dear,, these animals won't bother you anymore. " He spoke in a soft tone. At first, you were frightened upon seeing him, but seeing his softened gaze and his kind, almost nurturing smile as he held what looked like something you could actually handle, You got up and started eating the miso plus white rice concoction. It wasn't bad, but it wasn't entirely good either, but to your sick mind it was the best thing you've ever had to eat all day.

Asmodeus then picks up the empty cup of tea taking up the tea bag taking out the hot tea bag and the dry tea leaves as he poured a cup of now lukewarm water. "Drink this to, It's water it's not much but you're probably thirsty."

You barely mouth a thank you before taking the cup.

Now, the devils were too stunned to speak as someone they thought would be the most useless ended up helping you. Leviathan was beyond pissed. His face was contorted with pure envy as if that was the same food he tried to force you to eat. Asmodeus got you to eat with little effort and a smile.

And honestly Satan was relieved. At this point anything would have helped, well he was angry at mostly himself for pretty much failing you and just making whatever what's wrong with you worse. Beelzebub was nodding along He didn't take an account that certain foods just won't settle well. "I understand though,"Asmodeus hummed as with his gentle hands eased you back to bed.

"I remember being just like all of you when my late wife pregnant with our first of many good morning sickness. Hehe~I thought I was about to lose her and my child." He reminisced to no one in particular. Before turning back to the group of devils

"I would advise you get a doctor as well. It's not serious. But a medical professional is always handy. "

"call Lucifer!" Leviathan barked a Satan was already on his phone. "Okay okay! God damn!"

Lucifer

Lucifer was pinching the bridges of his nose. Hearing the entire story if they thought it was a Christmas cold why didn't they call him before? He asked but he probably already knew the answer to that.

He didn't normally do personal visits but this was different. With a bag he got out some tools It wasn't much but it was enough for a diagnosis.

"looks like the flu. A common human virus. Mutates every year so humans try to get flu shots every year." He said.

"I would recommend going to the human world and getting this." With a piece of paper and a pen he writes down certain kinds of over the counter medicine and drugs. "If they have it in hell don't give it to her. Those kinds of drugs probably wouldn't be suitable for the human body. Oh and also-"

As he talks to himself he writes down the kinds of food she could eat and what else she could do.

"Her symptoms should last 5 to 7 days, I believe. If they last any longer, don't hesitate to call me." He says. He looks over at your face, and now you are breathing calmly. You finally have drifted off to sleep. A flicker of a smile graces his lips as he leans down to kiss your forehead.

Epilogue:

And with that, the great hell crisis was over... Well almost... You still wouldn't be able to get your beloved peace and quiet as you got many visits from many devils of the 72 over those seven days, some bringing care baskets while others home-cooked meals. Even those from Abbaddon who cannot leave their cells mailed you sweet treats and very saucy letters.

As much as it heavily irritated you about how horrible it was to wake up with seven loud and screaming adult men. But you knew it was out of a place of care.

Silly devils; never change.

[sp0o0kylights]

Eyes wide, body frigid in terror, Eddie felt the sheer horror of the current situation sank in. 

He was at Gen Con. 

In their hotel.

With zero vacant rooms and one minor, Henderson created, screw up.

The room only had one bed in it. 

“It’s fine, we can share.” Steve said, brushing past.

Like this was not the life ending, earth shattering, soul rendering issue that it was.

“I can sleep on the floor.” Eddie croaked trying to remember how a normal person acted instead of someone whose stomach had just fallen out of their ass. 

“Nah, I did this all the time with the basketball team.” Steve said as Eddie actively regretted every single decision that had led to this point in his life.

“Hell this is even a king sized bed. We have plenty of space!” 

Steve did a goofy little spin jump, landing butt first on the bed and bouncing on it with glee. 

“Space, sure.” Eddie echoed. 

Hands shaking, eyes determinedly focused on anything but the ex-jock, Eddie found himself chanting a mantra over and over in his head.

One that would valiantly get him through the next weekend, God and D20's willing.

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

“I don’t have cooties, if that's what you're worried about.”” Steve waggled his eyebrows. "Here,  I’ll even let you have one of my pillows.”  

Said pillow was flung through the air, to smack Eddie dead in the face. 

'Fuck it." Eddie thought wildly. "I am NOT fine!'

And after Eddie got his hands on him, Dustin Henderson wouldn't be either.

xXx

“I am going to kill you.” Eddie snarled, the very second he could get Dustin alone.

“No you won’t, you love me too much.” Henderson dismissed, a smug little smirk in place. 

The absolute brat. 

“I do not, and if I did, I would take it back after this.” Eddie glanced around once again, beyond paranoid about discussing this in the open parking lot of a shitty hotel, but knowing he needed to get this under control, now. 

“What were you thinking!?” 

“That I read a really interesting zine about this exact scenario, mostly.” Dustin shrugged. “Worked out great for them, I thought I’d try it for you!” 

Eddie groaned, head flying back as he fisted both hands in his hair.

(if only to prevent himself from wrapping both hands around Dustin’s stupid throat.) 

“What did I tell you? This isn’t something you fuck with man!” 

“I know, but as I told you, Steve is perfect!” Dustin protested, and didn’t even have the decency to flinch when Eddie lost control and grabbed him by the collar. 

“Perfect!?” He sputtered, actually sputtered, shaking the fist that held Dustin's shirt captive. “Perfect!?” 

“Trust me on this--you have a crush on him, he desperately needs someone in his life--seriously, Eddie, it’s sad how he acts when he’s not dating--and you guys get along great now! What’s the problem!?”

“He’s straight!” Eddie shrieked, startling several onlookers. 

“Laced!” He added immediately after, in panicked afterthought. “He’s so straight laced we could never get him to agree to that plan!” 

Dustin leveled an unimpressed look at him. 

“Dude, really?”

“We are still in Indiana, Henderson.” Eddie said, then got close enough that he felt comfortable hissing the next part through clenched teeth.

“They don’t exactly care for the queers here, even at a place like this.” 

“Are you sure? Because the Con’s welcome packet has a few different panels that--”

Eddie scrubbed a hand over his face, letting go of his idiot, freshman friend's shirt to grab at his hair again. 

“Henderson, for once,” He pleaded, and maybe it was the sheer desperation in his tone or how upset he looked but either way Dustin seemed to finally realize how serious he was.

“just once, I need you to listen to me. You cannot let Steve know I’m gay. This is something that has to stay between us, especially now I’m sharing a bed with him.” 

Which Dustin knew, because Dustin was the one who’d called and changed the room. 

“But Steve’s--”

“Most likely bisexual, I heard you the first several times you said it, but you can’t just--assume that about someone!” Eddie was well and good on a rant now, two seconds away from pacing about. “Even if you’ve been to a salon with them!” 

He pointed firmly at Dustin’s stupid face (and the kid's equally stupid mouth) before he could once again insist Steve was into men purely based on how anal he was about his hair.

“Steve might be cool with--other people,” Eddie was unsure of who knew what about Robin, and was not about to hand Dustin another secret given how he was acting about this one, “but that does not mean he will be cool with me--or you, pimping him out, to me!” 

“I’m not pimping him out!” Offended, Dustin patted at his shirt where Eddie had previously been holding it. “Look I’m sorry, but--”

Eddie groaned, loud and dramatic. 

“But,” Dustin doubled down, “You trusted me with the whole, you know.” He waved his hands in some sort of vague, unreadable gesture. “Can’t you trust me about this?”

“I didn’t trust you with that, you barged into my room and then dug around my closet insisting your character notes got mixed in with mine when I was hi-sleeping!--and then read something personal!” 

The snort he got in return let him know Dustin was well aware he’d been high as hell, but that was neither here nor there, given what had happened after. 

When Dustin, rifling through Eddie’s closet, came across one of Eddie’s private notebooks. 

The ones that contained equally private stories, penned by Eddie's hand.

One of which might have had characters--who did not sound like Steve, thank you,-- and definitely not paired with a character based on Eddie himself. 

(“So Sir Sylvan Harrachtáin and Edwin Morningson are random names you pulled out of your ass, huh?”

“Shut up.”

“Sir Sylvan with his great hair and--what’s this? A horse named…Beamer?”

“Henderson so help me--” ) 

It may have led to the two of them growing closer instead of Eddie getting chased out of town with pitchforks, but that hadn’t stopped the sheer panic it had caused when he realized just what it was Dustin was reading. 

“Potato, tomato.” The little shit dismissed, and Eddie felt the urge to strangle him return in full force. “Look I get it--I promised I wouldn’t tell and I keep my promises. But since there aren’t any other rooms in our inn…”

Eddie looked at the sky, because if he saw the little dipshit wiggle his eyebrows in relation to himself and Steve Harrington, his new friend, who baked cookies with Jeff and once helped Grant jump his car, Eddie was going to lose his mind.

Loudly, and with much fanfare. 

“You owe me. Big time.” He declared to the clouds. 

He pretended not to hear the sigh that got him, either. 

“If you so say. Now can we go to the convention?" A whine crept into Henderson's voice. "Steve’s going to think we’re fighting.”

"Fine.” Eddie finally lowered his head to glare Dustin dead in the eyes.

“But to make my ire clear, Henderson? That magic sword your dwarf just acquired is gone. Disappeared. Vanished like a puff of smoke."

He made a ‘proof’ noise, hands spreading out as he did it. 

Dustin’s jaw dropped.

“What!? Eddie--” 

“Nope.

“Edd-iieeeee--”

“I’m not listening.” He plunged both fingers in his ears, walking determinedly towards one of the other three hotel rooms Hellfire had crammed themselves in. 

Wished desperately that he could manage to swap beds with Jeff, or Grant, or someone without making Steve feel like shit--which it would, because Eddie knew things like that about Steve now.

Behind him Dustin rampaged, which at least, made Eddie a little happier.

xXx

“We can switch rooms.” 

“What?” Eddie asked, startled out of his present thoughts (and the giant pile of D&D related papers spread in a circle around him.)

He turned to look up at Steve, who was hovering awkwardly behind him.

“You’ve been weird ever since you realized we’re sharing a bed. If it’s making you that uncomfortable we can just switch.” He shrugged, like saying that didn’t hurt him, even as the kicked puppy look holding court on his face very much screamed ‘emotional damage.’

"I have not!” Eddie twisted himself around immediately. "I am perfectly fine, thank you!"

Steve frowned down at him. 

“Eddie, this is the longest conversation I’ve had with you since we got here." Steve deadpanned. "I’d blame that on the whole, you know, nerd herd gathering, but it’s pretty clear that’s not it. I watched you literally turn around and walk the other way when you spotted me earlier." 

Shit.

"It's kinda obvious you're avoiding me." 

Shit, shit, shit!

“I'm not, promise!" Eddie lied. "I’m just--distracted. There’s just so much happening and it’s--a lot.”

He said it like the con was overwhelming, and not chaos he was positively thriving in. 

Steve searched his face.

“Alright," He said doubtfully, "but I mean it. Say the word and we can switch. I'm sure Jeff'll let me share a blanket or something."

Which was the last thing anybody needed, on grounds that Jeff would try and fix things.

(Jeff, bless him, had never been good at fixing things.)

Drumming up every acting skill he possessed, Eddie flashed two thumbs up in response, painting a fat grin on his face.

“We're all good Stevie. Besides, I’m going to be up late at so many panels, you won’t even notice me coming back. You're practically gonna have the room to yourself!"

Because that was exactly what he was planning on doing, the second he realized the convention itself could provide a nice, neat little way out in the form of two different late night panels.

Who needed sleep anyway? Not him!

"Okay." Steve said, somewhat mollified.

Crisis averted, Eddie dove back into his plans, distracting himself as best he could while trying to ignore that Steve had dropped onto the bed.

(One of those plans might have involved revenge on Henderson, and that one he gave special attention to.)

xXx

There were no late nigh panels.

“Not until tomorrow, my friend!” The jovial guy dressed in what Eddie was pretty sure was supposed to be a wizard costume told him. “We had a few but the folks running them got stuck in traffic, so we had to cancel."

He beamed, like he hadn’t just disintegrated Eddie's one and only escape plan.

"Besides, if you go to sleep now you can catch some of the early morning panels!”

As if he hadn't planned on rolling into them anyway, lack of sleep be damned.

“Can we go back now?” Gareth grumped to his right, the only person who’d agreed to stay out all night with him (and who was not a 14 year old who’d been overruled by Harrington.) 

"We could go find a room party?" Eddie hedged instead, as they made their retreat.

"Dude."

"Fine," He muttered, defeated. "We can go back."

To Steve. 

And the single bed. 

In his head, he plotted out Henderson's death.

Maybe he'd use fire.

Or sticks, or even a fricken--toy horse, or something...

xXx

He'd done it.

Changed into the oversized shirt he called sleep clothes, and crawled into bed like a completely normal, totally straight human being.

Had even done a remarkable job of laying perfectly still. Exactly how a normal, not panicking person slept!

'I'm fine, this is fine, everything's fine...'

Steve was laying next to him.

He had to of course, that's how a bed worked, and yet somehow, Eddie couldn't get past it.

Or the fact that the dick wasn't wearing a shirt to bed.

His thoughts chased each other in nervous little circles, anxiety gnawing on his gut like a favored bone as Eddie did his best not to move one single inch.

Pity that the thing about attending a large convention, was the sheer amount of walking, talking, and expending general energy one had to do.

Entirely against his will, Eddie fell asleep. 

He had been planning on laying awake in frigid terror all night, to prevent any possible way Steve might clock him, but his body had other plans.

Some of which involved sleeping like Eddie normally slept--arms hugging a pillow, head buried in it's soft, comfortable, kinda ticklish surface.

He rubbed his nose further into it as the tickling sensation increased, pulling him away from the sleep he hadn't realized he'd fallen into.

Grumbling, Eddie went to adjust his stupid pillow when he had the weirdest realization that it too, was moving.

Pillows, his sleep addled brain informed him, did not move.

Steve would, though.

"Fuck!" He screeched, flying up into a sitting position as he registered that he'd gone full octopus--cuddling Steve with all four limbs.

Steve flew awake, his own body flying up into a sitting position.

His mouth started moving a mile a minute, and it took Eddie a second to parse that Steve was still partially asleep as he let out a string of absolute nonsense about code reds and being upside down.

"Whoa!" Eddie said when the guy nearly fell out of bed. "Shit Steve, it's just me!"

"Eddie?" Steve asked, halfway out of bed. "Are we--is everything okay?"

"Yeah I--yeah." He grimaced, grabbing a strand of his hair and pulling it protectively over his face. "I think I woke you up."

"S'okay." Steve ran a hand through his hair, before slowly sinking back into the bed, alarm fading. "Are you okay? Nightmare?"

Eddie blew out a breath.

"Probably. It's fine, don't worry about it."

Steve eyed him doubtfully.

"If you're sure..."

Eddie gave him a wobbly smile back, patting the space on the bed next to him as he made himself lay back down. "Promise. I'm--I'm sorry, I guess maybe I should have slept elsewhere..."

That did it.

"You're good. Startled me is all." Steve let out a sort of forced chuckle before laying back down. "I overreacted."

Eddie hummed, not trusting himself to say anything as the two of them settled back down.

It did not escape him that unlike most people who'd been rudely woken up in the middle of the night, Steve didn't try to keep any distance between them.

No, he had to scoot closer, like he needed to know his friend was near. 

Eddie squeezed his eyes closed and prayed for death.

"I get nightmares too, sometimes." Steve admitted in the following quiet and oh, God, no, Eddie could not do an emotional late night talk right now.

"They definitely suck." He said flatly, before rolling over to face the opposing wall. "Night Stevie."

Steve snorted, but it sounded amused instead of hurt.

Eddie sighed quietly in relief as he too, turned away to face the wall.

He could do this. He just had to make sure he didn't screw up and fall asleep again, and everything would be...

Perfectly...

...fine.

xXx

"--ddie, you're on my arm man."

"Wha?"

"My arm." That was Steve, Eddie's brain dutifully identified as it crawled it's way to consciousness. Steve who was his friend now, and was also talking very close to his ear. 

"Also my leg. And torso."

"You have a nice torso." Eddie mumbled thoughtlessly. 

Why was Steve here? They were doing something that should have been stressing him out, was stressing him out, but it was hard to think when he was this tired.

"Thanks," Amusement threaded it's way through Steve's voice, "but I'm going numb here. You have a hell of a grip."

Eddie frowned, the words sludging through the fog, until finally, the dots connected.

Eyes opening wide, he carefully took stock of the position he once again found himself in--wrapped around Steve like the guy was the only life raft left.

Oh my God.

"Shit sorry--" Steve oof'ed as Eddie smacked an elbow into his ribs as he let the poor man go, madly scrambling to get as far away as possible.

He tried to apologize for that, but was too busy fighting the bedsheets to get anything out. 

"Eds." Steve laughed, grabbing him as Eddie tangled them both up. "Calm down."

"I'm calm!" He protested, far too loudly, limbs flying every which way as he tried in vein to get the fuck away.

Stupid sheets-!

"Eddie." Two heavy hands came down on his shoulders, Steve having managed to get himself into a sitting position. "It's alright."

"It's not Steve." Eddie spat, and then panicked harder because fuck, that is not what he should have said.

"Hey, easy." Steve was talking quieter now, hands squeezing gently, like Eddie was some kind of spooked wild animal and fuck, he was really losing it here.

"I mean it. We're at the convention, remember? We're sharing a hotel room and you have a bunch of dorks and dumbass things to do in like, two hours."

Eddie violently shrugged him off.

"I know that!"

Steve, somehow, did not take offense to the very aggressive tone that had been snarled in. 

"Then you know you can breath for a moment. Seriously, you look like you're gonna pass out."

Which was probably true, given the rapid, rabbiting beat of his heart.

"Is this what you were worried about?" Steve added, as Eddie finally freed himself from the damn sheets. "That you have nightmares?"

“It's not nightmares.” Eddie spat instantly, chest heaving.

His head hurt, his eyes hurt, and he was exhausted to the point where he wanted to cry about it.

God did being gay suck.

“Then--what? That you cuddle in your sleep?” Steve was teasing, Eddie knew Steve was teasing but that was too on the nose. “Dude trust me, Tommy was an octopus growing up. I don’t care.”

“No it’s not, that, exactly--”

"So what is it then, exactly?"

Too. Fucking. Close.

"Drop it Steve--"

Emotions rose like a tidal wave, all encompassing. Overwhelming. 

"I would if you weren't clearly upset about something--" 

He lost control. 

“I’m gay!” Eddie yelled.

Then he clapped a hand over his mouth, like he hadn’t just panicked himself out of the closet. 

It died. 

The crazy, huge emotions. The way he'd been fighting himself, tooth and nail, the panicked thoughts that were zooming around his brain.

“I didn’t say that.” He said, eyes wide.

Steve blinked.

“I mean, you kinda did.”

Eddie shook his head.

“Nope. No. I said, I said--”

“That you’re gay.” Steve finished, then frowned when Eddie flinched. “Dude it’s okay--”

“Is it, Steve!?” He interrupted, hand finally falling from his mouth. “Is it? Because if you ask half the people at this convention--who are my kind of people and understand I’m not shilling souls to satan--if it's okay!? They'd say no!"

Tears pressed against his eyes, a reaction he hated that he had.

"They'd say no, and then they'd try to kick my ass for sleeping in the same bed as them!" 

A tear escaped and he swiped angrily at it. 

“I’m okay with it.” Steve said quietly, which had the effect of making Eddie shut up. “And those people suck.” 

The laugh that escaped Eddie's mouth was brittle.

Bitter.

He turned his head away from Steve, angry that he’d gone and admitted the very thing he knew better than ever speaking aloud. 

“Yeah well, I didn't think you would be, given how you used to accuse anyone and everyone of being a queer loser right along with the rest of the basketball team.”

Which wasn't fair, exactly--Eddie knew Steve had changed. Had seen it in the way he and Robin talked quietly about Will, when they thought no one could overhear.

(A habit Eddie would break them of, if he and Steve made it out of here as friends, still.) 

He wasn't Will though, and Will wasn't the one presently sharing a bed with Steve.

“That’s because we were all making out with each other at away games.” It was said so fucking quick Eddie briefly thought he hallucinated it.

Lucky for him, Steve wasn't done. 

“Robin thinks that whole thing was some kind of group denial. Like if we made enough of a thing out of it we could all pretend we didn’t have our hands down each others pants all the time. I am not exactly on speaking terms with that group anymore.”

He shrugged like that his fall from grace hadn’t been the center of the rumor mill for most of his senior year, and came with a lot of shit talking at his expense.

“But I can still prove it to you, if you’d like.” 

Shock--and six million thoughts-- hit Eddie like a mack truck. 

‘You’re lying/No way/that makes so much fucking sense/how did that even start/was it every game/whose pants exactly did you have your hands down and how do you feel about my pants--’ 

“How?” Eddie got out, sounding only slightly strangled. 

“Well--you’re here. I’m here."

And then Steve gave him a smile Eddie had only ever seen aimed at women, a slow lazy curl of the mouth that implied a hell of a lot.

"I'm fine with making the math work."

Maybe he was dreaming this.

(Eddie pinched himself and found that somehow, he was not.)

“I realize I don’t look like it, but I don't the whole casual kissing thing." Eddie blurted out. "Hasn't exactly gone well for me."

He regretted it the second it left his mouth. 

That was sharing too much of himself. The vulnerable gooey part who'd kissed a few girls (and even, once, a guy) and found he couldn't for the life of him make such things casual.

Plus Steve was kind of a good friend now, and Eddie had a crush so big that doing this and then never doing it again would kill him, and--

(and, and, and…) 

“It can mean something if you’d like.”

What.

“What?” 

Eddie stared at him.

Steve stared back. 

“Steve Harrington." He said flatly. "Are you trying to get in my pants?”

‘I will rip them off right here and now if you are,’ He thought wildly, like he hadn’t just tried to die on some “it has to be meaningful” hill. 

(Sue him, he was a horny teenager who'd just learned sex might be on the table, he could change his mind.

It totally wouldn’t tear his heart apart after either!

Nope, not his, made of steel Eddie’s heart was--) 

Steve raised his hands in the “don’t shoot” pose, looking all too pleased with himself. 

“Hey, you can’t fault a guy for trying. But,” and here he dropped the flirty little grin, which Eddie was only now realizing he was utilizing, “I meant it. I'm not opposed to trying this out, with you."

Trying? What the hell did that mean!?

Steve hadn't stopped talking.

"I won’t take it anywhere if you don’t want to though, don't worry.

Then he tilted his head and added; “I can also leave if that made you uncomfortable. Robin keeps telling me I can’t flirt with men like I flirt with women and--” 

“No.” Eddie’s mouth betrayed him yet again, terrified Steve might talk himself into leaving. “No--you offered!”

Steve raised an eyebrow.

“I did.”

“To have--” God Eddie couldn’t even say the words, “with me?” 

Somehow that last part came out as a question, and Eddie planned immediately to throw himself out of a window.

The grin was coming back. “Yes. With you.” 

“And it would…mean something?”

That was pushing it, Eddie knew that was pushing it, but it was like he couldn't stop himself.

This whole thing was now a runaway train and he'd ride it to it's inevitable wreck.

“For me it would.” Steve said, raising himself up on his knees. 

He inched forward, planting his hands down on the bed, face awfully close to Eddie’s own. 

“I don't like doing things anymore without it meaning something. To be honest, I don’t think I ever did. Besides, Robin's right."

"About?" Eddie asked, goin cross-eyed as Steve leaned ever so much closer.

"That when I say I admire you, or I miss you, or that I want to see you, I'm not exactly meaning it in a friend way."

Oh.

"Oh." Eddie said dumbly.

Steve closed the distance, mouth first. 

They were kissing.

Stars exploded in the sky. Fireworks went off outside, birds sang, people cheered--

(Eddie bit Steve’s lip, twice, in some sort of overexcited maneuver before he was gently guided into Steve’s lap, the ex-jock twisting to lay back down and bringing Eddie with him. 

It was smoothly done, a slow maneuver, and Eddie had to go and ruin that too by ripping his mouth off Steve’s to press sloppy kisses all down his neck. 

Thankfully Steve did not shove him off for that, or the hickie he definitely left on that stupid, tan neck, instead arranging them once again until things, finally, started to be less frantic. 

It was the best night of Eddie's life.)

xXx 

“So what does mean something involve, in this little situation we have here?” Eddie said some odd amount of time later, cuddled happily against a now naked Harrington. 

“I’m not supposed to say boyfriends.” Steve mumbled into Eddie’s shoulder. “Scares people off."

Apparently he was the type to need naps immediately after having the naked kind of fun. 

“Who the fuck told you that?” Eddie reached down, lacing their hands together tightly.

Steve kissed his shoulder. 

“We haven’t even gone on a proper date yet.” He said, rather than responding directly.

“We can’t, Steve, or did you forget where we live?”

Another kiss, this one turning into a grin when it made Eddie shudder. 

“Oh we absolutely can. I’ll prove it to you. Next Friday?” 

It took him a moment--a stupidly long moment, for someone who prided himself as a wordsmith--but Eddie got it. 

A smile exploded over his face. 

“Next Friday." He said. "It’s a date.” 

(A very long time later, Henderson would find out about all this and gloat about this so hard he’d fall off the steps of Eddie’s trailer. 

Eddie would only let him live on grounds that Steve was also there at the time, and was worried about Dustin’s ankle.

This did not stop Eddie from standing above the little shit, announcing karma would one day get him soon, and if not, than Max Mayfield, who absolutely could be bribed into committing murder.)

This was the bonus for Door Prize/Sugar, Spice (and Everything Dicey) which can be read in it's entirely here: LINK

[magnecalliope]

Something that I think is frequently lost in character analysis of Clown is that in spite of the popular idea that he is some sort of agent of chaos, he actually has a very rigid code of ethics that he adheres to that informs his actions and interactions with others.

First, consider that Clown held no feelings of animosity towards Pangi for eating the Kingdom's honey. He laughed about it and called Pangi a rascal for it, but he wasn't angry. To him, punishing Pangi was nothing personal, it was just a necessary consequence for his actions against the Kingdom. Consider his warning to Foolish about Owen when Owen killed Tommy. Consider his execution of Slimecicle. Owen killed Tommy out of turn, without orders from his king. But Clown executed Slime because he broke a decree by the king. This, more than his rivalry with Owen, is why he was so angry when Tubbo wanted to punish him but not Owen. They both broke Tubbo's rules, but Owen broke Clown's rules too.

Clown does not hate Pili. He told Pili that he was proud of him, that he missed him while he was gone. They weren't friends, but they weren't enemies, either. The only thing that could actually provoke Clown into fighting Pili was threats against Ros. Harming Ros requires punishment. An eye for an eye. Notice how many times during their duel that Clown stopped attacking Pili because it appeared he was having tech issues. He stopped attacking when Pili started to monologue. He did this because a fair fight is part of his ethics, but also because killing Pili was a duty that must be performed to achieve justice for his wrong. Just as any satisfaction Pangi got for his actions was irrelevant, just as Owen being an ally was irrelevant, whatever Pili got out of it was irrelevant to him. If Pili wants to have last words uninterrupted, let him. He didn't want to kill Pili, he had to.

Pili saw Clown's acknowledgement as his ticket to being respected, to being cared about, even if it's because he's a villain. And sure, people showed up, but just look at how they engaged with the fight. They made jokes. They were dismissive. Sneeg played a game of Balatro instead of paying attention. Scott changed his music away from epic battle themes to his regular music. People contemplated leaving and coming back later. It was a spectacle to gawk at for a few minutes and forget about later. They picked at his corpse for loot the second he dropped, even his own teammates. Nobody respects Pili any more for picking a fight with Clown. He died for nothing. It's almost symbolic that Pili deafened during the fight and didn't hear any of this occurring. He was so deeply entrenched in his beliefs that he was in denial of the truth even as it unfolded around him.

The things Pili wanted from Clown he already got from Pangi, and I think Clown saw that. Pangi loved and respected Pili, he was Pangi's entire world. He was the most important person on the server, his top priority. He was hurt when Pili talked about how badly he wanted to get Clown's attention. Pili's singleminded focus on Clown made him blind to that, but Clown wasn't. Clown understands intimately what a precarious position he occupies as "deadliest player" and that's not something he wishes on anyone. Being on top makes you a target not just of your enemies, but your allies too (just listen to the way Sneeg boasts that he can kill Clown if he really wanted to). He's got plenty of experience with that from Lifesteal. Pili doesn't. Clown didn't want to entertain Pili's flight of fancy that fighting him would solve all his problems. Clown's victory was hollow, but not because Pili got what he wanted. 

[theexaltedbride]

White Rabbit X Human Civilian Female Reader (Pt. 2) . Kidnapped!

(Also known as White Rabbit goes John Wick to save you.)

It had all started with an argument. It wasn't uncommon for you and Rabbit to argue over his methods and goals. Did he actually want to save his people or just cause trouble for DarkCom? Because he couldn't have his cake and eat it too. But he refused to hear it.

Sometimes the arguments were respectful and measured, other times they were bordering on screaming matches and you both needed to take a break from one another for a little bit.

This one was particularly nasty and even some of the Makaians who knew you were giving you space because they could see the both of you fuming, and you went on a walk to try and collect your thoughts. Thankfully you were in a lowlands where the air pressure and landscape actually kept the poison air away, and made it a suitable camp for the refugees before being moved to a different shelter Rabbit had found or one of the hideouts on Earth.

This was your life now. You either lived with Rabbit on Makai, or you visited him as often as you could take time off from work to help him run his camps, but you were a part of his life and doing what you could to help out. Be it helping move supplies, babysitting, teaching Makaians about Earth or running supply deliveries for Rabbit on Earth. You devoted yourself to helping out, and while it was good work it was tiring too...sometimes you had doubts, but all it took was a single look at all the people you were helping, and all of the hardships would be worth it. Even if you were getting uncomfortable with Rabbit sometimes sending you to buy guns for him with money that he just happened to 'find'. You wanted honesty from him and a greater focus on evacuating Makaians, less on violence.

You kept walking until you decided you'd calmed down enough to return and at least try to focus on that day's work with Rabbit.

That was when you spotted one of the Makaians in a robe just a little bit outside of the camp, whimpering and limping, even falling over as if injured. You came over to help them, and they complained about having slipped and twisted their ankle. As you got nearer though, you heard something from behind you and felt the sharp jab as a small thorn-like object had imbedded itself into your neck.

Then your body went numb and limp, as the creature hiding beneath the robe uncoiled itself to reveal that it was a kind of Serpent-Scorpion hybrid, and it coiled itself round you to begin pulling you away to a band of other waiting Demons, who cackled at your capture and spoke to one another about how the Rabbit was finally going to pay up, else his precious pet would be sent back to him in pieces.

For three days no one could find you, and Rabbit was in an utter state about it, throwing things about, interrogating any Makaians who had seen you last, demanding answers, and all they could say was that they'd seen you walking off past the camp, then you vanished.

That was all Rabbit had to go by until a stranger arrived at the camp. It was a messenger from one of the would-be lords of Makai, nothing but power-hungry demons pretending to be kings and demanding tribute and service from anyone weaker than them.

The demon had come in service of lord Machado. A bloated old demon who had the good fortune of building his Keep in a very defensible position long ago and getting plenty of sycophants around him to march around and pretend at being royalty, while bribing those he couldn't intimidate into obeying his orders.

The messenger came with the truth of what had happened, they'd heard that Rabbit was getting soft, he'd grown too weak to kill and actually allowed himself to be ordered around by a human.

"All of the lords near your little camp know that you're pussy whipped now Rabbit." The messenger laughed, even going so far as to knock over an array of teacups that had been left on the table, and listening to them smashing on the floor, as if it would prove Rabbit's weakness.

So, they had kidnapped you, and if he wanted his beloved back then Rabbit needed to understand that Lord Machado ran things now, and his entire operation was no longer about getting Refugees out, but about getting valuable goods and human slaves into Makai, making a monopoly only Lord Machado held.

"Or, you could play a fee to Lord Machado to get your human worm back. "

The Rabbit isn't fucking around. He demands the messenger tell him their price for your safe return.

But it was too much to pay.

They wanted every last bit of food, water, medicine, clothing and more that the Refugee camps under Rabbit's control have at their disposal. They want it all delivered to a specific location within a Fortnight (about two weeks). Failure to comply, would lead to them delivering your head back to Rabbit in a gift wrapped box.

It's one life for the lives of countless other innocents.

Rabbit would gladly pay it, but he knows you would never forgive him for it. Doing so would even risk the kidnappers (or others) trying it again to squeeze more out of Rabbit and put you in danger each and every time.

So, the kidnappers have really given him no choice at all.

He will take you back by force. No matter how many demons get in his way, Rabbit will kill them all, for the one thing that makes it worth suffering through all this hardship.

He starts by beating the messenger with the metal tray which had been previously holding the tea cups the Messenger so casually knocked to the ground. Rabbit is so furious he can't even scream obscenities, only pure, primal, shouts as he begins pummeling the messenger to a bloody pulp and threatening to use DarkCom's infamous anti-demon poison on the little demon messenger unless he told him exactly where to find you, and spilling everything he knows about Machado and those keeping you captive.

The Messenger broke and sang like a bird, telling the Rabbit everything he wanted to know, even things Rabbit didn't care about, all the while pleading with Rabbit not to use the poison on him.

"Relax. I keep my word. When I make a promise, I always follow through on it." Rabbit said with a smile as he kneeled down to the injured demon, and then leaned in closer.

"I won't use the poison on you...this is more fun." Rabbit grinned and began biting into their throat to tear it out. He then ordered for the messengers head to be put on a spike where you had been kidnapped.

It's not about just killing the rival demons, but about sending a message to all future threats. Sadly he doesn't have the time to indulge the malice he feels inside. He's running late for a very important date.

Rabbit has to move fast. There's no time for trickery, no room for elaborate plots. The longer you were held captive, the more likely it was that you'd suffer irreparable harm. His best hope is to strike fast, hard, and keep kicking the enemy while they're down.

It takes time to move across a world as dangerous as Makai, and so Rabbit has bought himself time to use his enhanced speed and knowledge of the portals from Earth to Makai and back, to be able to sneak into Machado's territory much faster than they could expect. He will scope out his target and plan out how best to rescue you.

He's going to have to do it alone.

He can't ask the refugees to help as it would just get them killed. He won't have it, even as some of them insist on coming with him. You've done a lot to help his people, and on hearing you were kidnapped several Makaians were willing to risk it to help bring you home, but out of all of them only Rabbit is an actual fighter, bringing them along would make them a liability, and slow Rabbit down.

He can't hire on another Demon for this, the very notion of it would have them laugh him out of their lairs or try to kill him for following the path of Sparda.

A demon...who fell in love with a human.

Damn it all...it would be worth becoming a pariah if it meant he could be sure it would save you. But the chance of betrayal is too great.

No, it has to be him.

So, Rabbit sets out and spends close to a full day and night watching Machado's keep, arriving far faster than they'd expected. All of the things he'd been having you get from Earth (coupled with things he's stolen or smuggled himself) were a big help.

From a small telescope to cheap night vision goggles, it helped him look for weaknesses in their defenses and the best time to strike, he even made use of some chalk to make some mental calculations for his initial strike.

Sure, their defenses are good against an army who hasn't made it past the industrial revolution, but its nothing against a pissed off rabbit with a Carl Gustave Recoilless Rifle, an AT-4 Anti-Tank launcher, and a whole backpack full of C-4.

He even has a handful of those special DarkCom bullets which he'd saved for a rainy day. Not to mention guns in the right caliber to fire them ("God Bless America!") Its monstrous to have to use it against his own kind. But you are worth it.

Rabbit made you a promise that he would protect you and love you. He will not break that promise.

=========

-Your kidnappers were cruel and callous, the exact kind of Demons who make DarkCom look like a reasonable response, the same kind of demons who the other Makaians are running from. The ones who would have a bone to pick with Rabbit for giving them a way out, and they are taking it out on you.

-Slaps, kicks, having your face dunked in ice water, are just the start of it, but you playfully tell them that Rabbit hits harder than that all the time. "You call that a hit? That's a lovetap." You say even as the next hit knocks the wind out of you.

But they aren't really out to maul you. Just in case Rabbit really does try to pay your ransom.

-They constantly ask to know where Rabbit keeps his supplies, where the refugee camps are, where he hides them and where the portals to Earth are. They ask how Refugees are able to escape from the demon lords who command them, who the informants are among the various local lord's servants.

But you refuse to talk, you bite your lip, you glare at them and you spit at them. They can hurt you all they like but you won't talk.

-You had been chained up in the darkest dungeon the demons could find in their hold. They had punched you, kicked you, pulled on your hair until some of it came out, and even pulled out one of your toenails when you kicked one of the guards square in the face. They didn't want to break you too badly (not yet at least), but there was no reason they couldn't rough you up. It was all play to them, not the true torture that could be unleashed, just a way to pass the time.

The pain was excruciating, blinding, and your brain screamed so loud to do anything to make the pain stop.

But you still held on. You knew you just needed to last long enough for Rabbit to come and rescue you. He would never leave you to rot, its just a matter of time.

It still doesn't help dull the pain as that serpent-scorpion demon drips venom into your open cuts, and it hurts worse than if salt were being rubbed into them. Your nerves scream and your muscles feel like they are on fire. Your vision is full of stars and your ears ring from the shock of it. Your blood is boiling inside your veins and they only cackle and laugh in response.

To them, this is the way of things. The weak are made to be entertainment to the strong, to serve them and be discarded of. This is why the Makaians flee to Earth in hopes of a better life. And that's why they hate Rabbit so much, because he proves them wrong.

Worst of them all was Lord Machado himself. From how the others around him behaved, you'd been expecting Machado to be as fearsome and intimidating as an Oni or a rampaging Minotaur. Instead, he was shorter than you by three inches and as round as a bowling ball, trotting about on stubby little legs ruined by him normally being carried about by slaves rather than actually using those muscles coupled with what looked like gout. His face was short and round and hairy, like a mole crossed with a frog ready to croak.

His hair (what was left of it poking out from under a golden crown) was greasy from a lifetime of unhealthy over eating, and his teeth were unclean to the point he was making your eyes water more from the smell than from fear (even if the demons interpreted it as you fearing for your life now). Everyone else was starving on Makai, and yet Lord Machado found a way to be obese even for how much demons burned through calories.

He spoke about how he could get the pain to stop, how all of this could be over, and all you had to do was answer his questions, spill Rabbit's secrets. He even offered to 'sweeten' the deal by allowing you the honor of becoming one of his harem slaves.

"Surely I can bring you more pleasure than a rabbit!" Machado declared before throwing his head back to laugh.

-In a moment of blind anger, you tried to actually strangle Machado with the shackles around your wrists. The chains on you were designed to hold demons, just a little bit too big your wrists, the chain links were too long, and you surprised everyone in the room (including yourself) when you finally made your move.

One moment was all it would take, he'd put his back to you and his underlings had all underestimated the human they considered Rabbit's weakness. You swung the chains out and around Machado's neck, suddenly yanking him back towards you, with so much force that golden crown fell from his head and you nearly lifted him up off his feet. He struggled and his supporters all looked to one another, unsure of what to do as you pulled Machado close enough to use him like a shield against them. Machado's eyes bulged and he struggled and gagged as you showed him the same fury you had as when you hit that spider demon with a fire extinguisher long ago.

But that one serpent bastard was too fast, as soon as you'd really started trying to strangle Machado, the serpent-scorpion had stung you with his tail and your body had gone limp again. Machado had you chained to the wall after that, and even took a few swings at you himself to save face before his servants. At least the Serpent's toxin numbed your body so it didn't hurt as bad now.

But the torture wasn't without reason. They were trying to weaken you for an interrogation. They demand to know everything about Rabbit, about the refugees, about Earth even. Anything that can be used to make them more powerful, to make them better able to lord their position over others, the pain makes it hard to resist.

"He'll come for me." You say through the gritted teeth.

"And if he's stupid enough to try that, then we'll gut him and serve him to you as Rabbit stew! How's that for a last meal?" The short and rotund form of Lord Machado declared as he backhanded you hard enough to leave you tasting blood on your tongue. Your teeth had bitten through your own lip. Instead of cowering you looked right back at Machado and met his eyes with the hardest glare you could manage, rabbit's lessons still on your mind.

'Never let them see you whimper, never let them see you sweat. It's like dealing with a wild dog, you lock eyes and you square your body. Showing fear only excites them. A third of everything I do on Makai is just a mindgame. I make myself look stronger than I am, and I intimidate my enemies into leaving the refugees alone, that way I only have to fight on occasion and not every single day.'

You remained strong, even if the fear was always there, even if the pain refused to leave, you knew rabbit wouldn't abandon you, and he proved this to you when the first explosions began rocking the entire Keep. Boom, boom, boom, they kept going as Rabbit knelt down outside and used rocket after rocket to start softening up his enemy. It had been a pain in the ass for Rabbit to get everything in place, but it would all pay off soon enough.

"I told you he'd come...a gentlemen doesn't leave a lady waiting." You smiled through the pain, as the sound of explosions continued, with a sudden crash as one part of the keep collapsed from the damage. And yet Rabbit kept on firing rockets at it to get the kidnapper's attention and force them to come to him. He only ever stopped to deliver a message to the kidnappers.

"Bring out your dead! Bring out your dead!" Rabbit called out into a megaphone he held before his mouth, even laughing into it as he goaded the underlings of Machado to come out and face him, or else he'd just keep pummeling them till he could go in and grab you himself. He even threw in a few insults at Machado, knowing he'd be too prideful to let it slide, and risk his own men to save face.

True to rabbit's analysis (and thanks to some goading from you) Machado did exactly that, ordering his canon fodder. They ran out in their metal armor, carrying swords and shields, charging uphill to where Rabbit was already loading another rocket, stopping only long enough to call out over the megaphone.

"If you obey his order, you'll all die. This is your once chance to save yourselves."

They continued charging up the hill, so Rabbit shrugged.

"Oh well, come on then!" He yelled at the underlings all running up the hill to try and get to him, firing off more rockets on the sides of the formation to force them all nice and close, into one big mob, where they wouldn't have much room to maneuver for what came next.

His position has been chosen specifically as it would be an uphill location to give him line of sight on the keep, and slow his opponents down. If any of them had been able to check the ground carefully, they would have found several square packages already buried into the ground in a path leading up to Rabbit, a path they'd followed thanks to Rabbit's shots.

"Thank you for being so obliging." Rabbit said as he flicked a switch on a small detonator, and the area before him was reduced to smoke, debris and red mist. The explosion felt even deep inside the Keep, where Machado was beginning to panic.

-Machado had you dragged with him to his saferoom, but you made yourself a problem by using your numbed state to your advantage. your chains kept conveniently being caught by any available piece of furniture and your legs were like jelly, forcing them to drag you along as Machado ordered his toughest men out to go and fight Rabbit, while only he and the Serpent pulled you along. Anything you could do (short of actually lashing out, lest the serpent actually paralyze you again).

-After Rabbit had made it into the Keep, he'd had to abandon the Carl Gustave, he'd used up every last shot for it, and most of the fighting was now down to Rabbit using his own sword and speed to slash his way through the other demons and their underlings. He wanted to conserve his toxin bullets for the big ones, and luckily his intimidation tactics had worked and most were fleeing the Keep. those that didn't were cut down, or buried under rubble as Rabbit used his remaining explosives to seal off certain passageways to keep himself from being surrounded.

A few times they'd gotten close to overwhelming him by weight of numbers, slammed the pommel of a sword into his chest, or swung a chain against his back, one even managed to cut through his suit and slice the skin along his side with their claws. But none of them lasted long against him.

-If Sparda exists as a spirit, then he was lending his strength to Rabbit this night, no injury could slow him down, and no foe could last against his fury. A trail of bodies was left in his wake, and Lord Machado only grew more panicked as the sound of fighting grew closer.

-Rabbit never liked thanking DarkCom for anything, but those special bullets of theirs's were mighty handy here. A few shots and the underling began running, terrified at the power Rabbit had at his disposal, but it only lasted until one of Machado's strongest men stepped out to face him.

-The three headed minotaur towered in the courtyard of the keep, standing over even a statue of Lord Machado himself. It called itself 'Throg' and it boasted that no sword could penetrate his hide. Spears were as toothpicks to him, and even mighty javelins were battered aside. Entire armies fell before him, and today would be the end of Rabbit's legacy at the hands of Throg the Terrible.

his boasting was so loud and so grand that Machado actually heard it and found a window to look out into the courtyard, forcing you to stand up so you could see the end of your savior.

Rabbit was unimpressed, and raised a brow at Throg, sparing a glance at the assembled underlings hiding behind the giant three headed minotaur, before unslinging the AT-4 rocket launcher (his last remaining heavy weapon) from his back and raising it up to his shoulder, just as a demon began sneaking up behind him (as if Rabbit didn't hear him coming a mile away).

"No sword can punch through you, eh? How about a Mark 4 Armor piercing Anti-Tank warhead?" Rabbit grinned as he pulled the trigger and heard the scream of another demon behind him as the backblast of the rocket launcher scorched their face, while the three headed minotaur watched in shock as a rocket soared through the air straight at his chest. It punctured right through his toughened hide and detonated within him. The explosion blew the demon's guts and spine out of his back, showering all the weaker ones behind him in viscera.

The mighty Throg, the main muscle of Lord Machado fell dead ontop of Machado's statue, crushing it into pebbles before the eyes of the White Rabbit, You, and Lord Machado. All that his men could do was watch in horror as the Rabbit looked to them next, and smile.

'Boo!' He said and pointed the (empty) rocket launcher at them, and laughed as the underlings dropped their weapons and fled before Rabbit. Once they were gone he tossed the empty launcher aside, all out of explosives now, and began to pull out the rifle loaded with Anti-Demon poison bullets, when you finally took your chance to get Rabbits attention.

-"RABBIT! I'M UP HERE!" You shouted as loud as you could, and Rabbit's ear twitched before he turned to look at you, just in time to see the Serpent sting you again and leave you numbed as they began to pull you away. At this point it looked like you were Machado's only insurance for Rabbit not to kill him.

-After seeing you in distress, Rabbit redoubled his efforts in trying to make it to you, and the injuries began piling up. Cuts, scrapes, slashes, his suit would need replacing, but none of the pain was enough to stop him. Anything which bled too much he patched up with medical supplies he'd brought for you, or with scraps torn off his very suit.

-Rabbit isn't the best combatant, he's not a martial arts master, and relies a good deal on his speed to make it through each encounter. But a good secret to fighting is that stamina in a hand-to-hand fight can win the day. Sometimes just outlasting your enemy is what matters. But each time you managed to fight off the Serpent's poison, you would shout for him, and that would give him another burst of strength.

-The sounds of you screaming his name were enough to help him find you. Those large ears weren't just for show, and the gunfire was becoming more common now as Rabbit conserved his strength by using the DarkCom bullets against any who tried to attack him. He was burning through them quickly, but closing the distance between you and him. The Serpent's tail stinger was proving less and less effective each time he used it, as if your body were growing used to it and fighting off the effects, until they shoved a rag in your mouth and dragged you into a room where Machado kept his chained up harem girls, Makaians and demons of various types (many with scars showing that they were familiar with the Serpent's toxins) all cowered and watched as you were pulled to a saferoom hidden behind a large mirror.

"Distract him! Seduce him! The girl who kills the Rabbit earns her freedom!" Machado ordered of his harem before he closed off his safe room.

-Rabbit arrived not soon after, pointing his weapon around the room and scanning for threats. He saw only the fearful harem slaves of Machado, and he asked them a single question.

"Where. Is. Machado?" He growled past slip lips and gritted teeth.

All as one the entire room pointed towards the door to the saferoom. Even if Rabbit killed them, they were happy to know that Machado would die too. Some even offered help.

"There's a switch hidden under the bookshelf." one of the girls said, and Rabbit responded by using his sword to cut their bindings and a few bullets to blow off the locks to their chains.

"Go. My camp is to the North-West if any of you want to go to the human realm, you should have a safe enough journey." Rabbit said as he checked his weapon and watched as the girls disappeared with some outright shouting with joy over their new freedom.

Rabbit was so close to victory now, he could almost taste it.

"Just a little longer, dearest. Just hold on."

-You had been drugged yet again, your limbs were like Jelly and your mouth gagged, as Machado stood behind you with a knife to your neck while the other held your hair. They were waiting for Rabbit. Machado made himself bait while the Serpent-Scorpion demon waited over the doorway to lung at Rabbit when he got close enough.

As soon as you saw Rabbit entering, you began fighting to do something, anything, to warn him!

"Mister Rabbit! What a very unwelcome surprise. Now, put the weapon down." Machado instructed Rabbit, his knife always close to your neck.

Rabbit didn't respond, only stepping closer, gun trained on Machado's head and eyes occasionally flicking down to look into your own, to assure you everything would be alright. He hesitated on ending Machado there, because he feared your neck might be cut by Machado's death flails if he shot his head off.

You tried looking up at the Serpent to warn Rabbit but you couldn't be sure he'd seen it.

He stepped in slowly, each step like the countdown of a clock, a countdown for you to take action.

Just before Rabbit fully entered the room, you regained control over your own body and forced yourself to move through the numbness, reaching a hand up to grab the knife with one hand and slamming your head back up into the face of lord Machado. You heard his nose crunching from the impact, and your other hand pulled the gag from your mouth.

"Above you!" The shock of your attack caught the Serpent off guard, and gave Rabbit a moment to act before he struck. Rabbit knew the attack was coming, but he chose to fire a single shot at the arm of lord Machado, the anti-demon poison caused it to explode at the shoulder, freeing you and sending Machado falling back screaming.

But Rabbit and the Serpent were both fighting and struggling on the ground, rolling about as the Serpent coiled itself around him, trying to prevent Rabbit from either pulling his sword or pointing his rifle anywhere. Eventually the Rifle was flung away from Rabbit's hands and the Rabbit was left grabbing the Serpent's neck with one hand, and the stinger with the other to keep them from poisoning him.

Rabbit's strength was failing him, he wouldn't last forever, and even though you were still numb, you had the presence of mind to scramble for the rifle, picking it up and aiming for the two of them, your grip was shaky, and they were moving around too much. Until Rabbit saw you, and made a choice.

He allowed himself to be stung in the shoulder, while pushing back on the to give you a clear shot, and you made it count!

The Serpent's tail was blown off, along with his poison stinger, and in his agonized shouting, another shot found its way to the Serpent's head and brought an end to that horrible monster.

Only Lord Machado remained, flailing about with his blood spraying out, screaming a mix of obscenities against you and Rabbit, while also pleading for mercy and how he'd give you all his wealth.

Rabbit took the gun from you with his still working arm, and fired three more shots, depriving Machado of his remaining limbs. He'd die slow, agonized, and alone. A proper message to anyone else who tried this.

Once that was done, Rabbit looked to you, and came in for a soft embrace.

Rabbit doesn't blame you or chastise you for anything. The fault was entirely with the kidnappers. He's happy to see you alive, and rubs his furred cheek with your own.

"Let's get you home, dearest."

The two of you limp back to the entrance of the Keep, any survivors of Machado's staff instantly flee at the sight of Rabbit and you are safe to walk outside, even finding that some of the refugees from the camp came despite Rabbit's orders and they were able to help you get back to the camp for much needed rest and treatment.

You're both in for a long recovery period, but Rabbit refuses to leave your side the entire time, and insists on holding you, letting you know its alright, and shedding a few tears in private over how he'd feared that he'd lost you. If you need to cry, he will be there to comfort you.

Some of the harem girls actually did come to Rabbits camp and attended to you the same way they would to one of their own who had been given the serpent's toxins, helping you both to a speedy recovery.

In the coming weeks Rabbit would recover sooner than you, and set out to making sure Machado's lieutenants and confidants were all dealt with, even asking you for descriptions about them. They couldn't be allowed to get away to seek vengeance. But each time he went out to hunt them down, he took longer and longer to return.

It stopped being about retribution after he'd gotten you safely back to his camp. It became about sending a message, to every other would-be lord and demon who thought they could toy with the Rabbit.

Rabbit wasn't weak. He just chose not to engage in violence. But anyone who gave him reason to do so, would find just how cruel he could be. Rabbit is only peaceful because his beloved brings out the better angel within him. Without her, without you, he indulges in his inner demons, and lets them dance and sing in the slaughter.

The dark world of Makai has few lights in it, and you are the only light in Rabbit's life now.

======

Couple's soundtrack:

-"A Grave Mistake" Ice Nine Kills.

-"Falling Inside the Black" Skillet.

-"Carnival of Rust." Poets of the Fall.

-"War" Poets of the Fall.

-"Friction" Imagine Dragons.

-"Bury the Light", because Rabbit is a storm approaching that enemy keep with ill intent!

[aerkame]

Which version of Sun Wukong do you like the most? (Both in character and design)

Which one would be your final choice?

You can't just ask me to pick one like that. 😭 There are so many versions of Sun Wukong throughout history from different media.

My favorite version of Sun Wukong is the one from New Gods: Nezha Reborn. I can't even begin to express just how much I love his character overall once I began to take notes for writing him (I'm still taking notes, there are many details). Both his design and character were well thought out for the movie and it's such a shame that he didn't get his own movie or have more screen time.

PERSONALITY

I know Nezha Reborn Monkey King probably isn't everyone's favorite, but what won me over was the amount of details to his personality, missed easter eggs, and his overall design that both matches the world he's in and also makes him stick out. For starters, Monkey King in this version is quite scary in my opinion despite his silly old man act. I really do believe he is a silly guy who is just minding his business and having fun. Sometimes in the movie, he truly does act like a monkey (makes you wonder how no one figured him out yet, he even has a giant metal sculpture of himself with his motorcycle collection), swinging from chains, climbing around, making small noises at times, having too much energy to the point of not being able to hold still for a single minute... but he's an assassin, a hitman. Monkey King being easily hired by Ao Guang as a hitman in the past plenty of times is scary enough. On top of that, his behavior is pretty cutthroat as well.

Sure, he's a silly old man, but it's hard to ignore how he acts sometimes. Especially when he not only ate another yaoguai, but he offered a piece of the dead assassin to the very guy who hired that yaoguai to kill Nezha's reincarnation (Ao Guang). This Monkey King is also more than an expert at acting. I think he even has a portion of the fandom tricked. There are only a few times in the movie where he acts like his true self and it's mostly around Nezha's reincarnation (Ever notice that he knew ALL of the names of the previous ones?)

He goes from silly guy to the biggest threat in the room real quick. This Monkey King is a very morally grey one. He's done plenty of bad things and plenty of good from the context given in the movie. It all depends on his motives if he has any. Who knows, he did say he's just tired.

DESIGN

Nezha Reborn Monkey King's overall design is just as thought out as his character too. If you look at the main cast or any character really, you'll notice that their clothes usually don't have any bright colors or anything that would have too much saturation to it. It's mostly all dull colors. Wukong however, has a bright pink suit and pants. Even the clothes he wears in his home are bright and colorful. This goes hand in hand with his personality. He's shown to have some greed in him when Ao Guang offered a larger payment for Li's assassination.

Monkey King is still a monkey, and he likes shiny valuables and that can be seen in his greed and the gold jewelry he wears (which has human skulls on it by the way-). He also has a huge amount of confidence and wearing bolder colors is definitely something he would do to show it. He does what he likes and wears what he wants.

The choice of colors and clothes not only matches his personality but they also serve a purpose in this movie's setting. Donghai not only has a water problem but it also has a poverty problem. We're shown around the beginning of the movie a background character who got a new dress that was a more muted plum purple. From the context of the two characters talking, having a dress like that is a statement of the person's wealth. So in conclusion, Monkey King is pretty loaded. I would like to argue though it's not just from taking expensive hits from Ao Guang, but also from the place he owns. In the beginning of the movie he introduces himself to Li after a race and says he owns the place (likely the whole area including the track since I could not find evidence anyone ever visits the place outside of races). That entire place looks like a water factory, which means he's likely making money from that too since water had become more expensive than currency.

The entire inside of the place he lives would earn another couple of paragraphs too, but it follows just about the same things I've said. Another detail I like, that might have been missed is that he fits the slang "Wrench monkey" pretty well. Just some food for thought.

I really could write a whole essay about him and several things I've noticed but I'm not sure if anyone would read this at all if I kept going. I might make a more in-depth essay sometime though or share my notes on him.

[heliosunny]

Yandere!DemonKing Oikawa Tooru x Reader

You had no idea how you ended up here. One moment, you were booting up that new fantasy RPG your friend had gifted you: "Defeat the Demon King and Save the World!" and the next, you were blinking under the dim torchlight of a cold, damp dungeon.

Your head throbbed as you sat up, chains clinking around your wrists. The last thing you remembered was the game’s title screen flashing before your vision swallowed you whole. 

"HEY! YOU THERE!"

You turned your head to see a tall, lean figure stepping into the flickering light.

You recognized him instantly—not just from the game’s lore, but from the way he carried himself like the world was his personal stage. The self-proclaimed demon king, a man who ruled with a velvet glove hiding an iron fist.

"You’re… Oikawa Tooru."

His smirk widened. "Oh? You know my name? How delightful." He crouched down in front of you, tilting his head. "And yet, you don’t seem the least bit afraid. Most people tremble just hearing it."

You were afraid. Terrified, even—but you’d be damned if you let him see it.

Oikawa’s fingers brushed your chin, forcing your gaze up. "What’s even more interesting is that my ability doesn’t work on you." His voice dropped to a whisper. "Do you know how rare that is?"

You didn’t answer. You had no idea what he was talking about.

He chuckled, standing up and dusting off his immaculate coat. "No matter. I’ll have plenty of time to figure you out." His smile turned sharp. "Consider yourself my new toy!"

With that, he turned on his heel and left, the dungeon door slamming shut behind him.

You slumped against the wall, heart pounding.

What the hell have I gotten myself into?

----

Every time Oikawa summoned you for his "game" your body tensed with instinctive dread.

The first time, he had given you a ten-second head start before chasing you through the twisted, thorn-laced forests of his domain.

The second time, he had blindfolded you and left you in the middle of a ravine, whispering in your ear, "Run fast. I love the thrill of the chase."

And now, for the third time, you were exhausted, your legs trembling as you pressed yourself against the gnarled roots of an ancient tree, trying to quiet your ragged breaths.

Somewhere in the shadows, Oikawa’s voice sang out, taunting.

"Come now, darling~ You can’t hide forever."

The last two times, you had barely escaped—more out of sheer luck than skill. Oikawa was toying with you, drawing out the hunt like a cat playing with a mouse.

A twig snapped nearby.

Your heart stopped.

Then—a hand clamped over your mouth.

"Stop moving. He’ll hear you."

Iwaizumi Hajime - Oikawa’s right-hand man, the only demon in this hellish court who didn’t seem to revel in your suffering.

You stilled, and Iwaizumi slowly released you. His sharp eyes scanned the trees before he jerked his chin toward a hidden path. "This way. Now."

You didn’t hesitate.

His quarters were sparse compared to Oikawa’s lavish chambers—practical, with weapons lining the walls and a sturdy wooden table covered in maps.

Iwaizumi pushed you onto a stool before grabbing a cloth and a vial of dark liquid. Without a word, he began cleaning the cuts along your arms.

"You’re lucky," he muttered. "He’s getting bored of just hunting you. Next time, he might actually try to kill you."

You winced as the antiseptic stung. "Why are you helping me?"

"Because someone in this damned court should have a shred of decency."

You stared at him.

He sighed, running a hand through his spiked hair. "Look. that man’s… different. He’s always been like this—obsessed with things that amuse him, things that challenge him. And right now, that’s you."

"So what do I do?"

Iwaizumi met your gaze. "Survive."

When he returned you to your chamber, a slightly upgraded cell with an actual bed, you collapsed onto the thin mattress, exhaustion dragging you under.

But as you drifted off, one thought burned in your mind:

Oikawa wants a game? Fine.

But this time, I’ll play to win.

You woke to the weight of an arm draped over your waist.

"Good morning, sleeping beauty~ Did you dream of me?"

You stiffened, but before you could react, he rolled you onto your back.

"I was thinking," he mused, tracing a finger down your cheek, "that today’s game should be a little more… exciting."

A snap of his fingers, and the chamber doors burst open.

A monstrous, lion-like beast prowled inside—muscles coiled beneath its dark fur, fangs glistening with drool. Its glowing eyes locked onto you like prey.

"Meet my pet, Kuro. He hasn’t eaten yet."

Kuro snarled, crouching low—ready to pounce. As Kuro lunged, you moved, ducking under his massive paws and grabbing the first thing your fingers brushed against.

Oikawa’s wrist.

You yanked.

There was a pop as his arm dislocated at the shoulder, his hand tearing free from his sleeve.

For a single, stunned second, Oikawa blinked at his own severed limb.

"HAH?!"

You hurled his still-twitching hand straight into Kuro’s open jaws.

The beast chomped down instinctively. Kuro’s ears twitched. His massive head tilted. Then, slowly, he licked his chops and let out a low, rumbling purr, nuzzling against your leg like an overgrown housecat.

Oikawa stared.

You stared back.

Then, to your horror, his lips curled into the most terrifyingly delighted smile you’d ever seen.

"You just stole my demon beast. How rude~"

You braced for retaliation—but instead, Oikawa just laughed, flexing his already-regenerating fingers as his arm stitched itself back together.

"I’ll let it slide this time," he mused, stepping closer. "But next time" His fingers brushed your throat. "I won’t be so forgiving."

Kuro licked your face.

You groaned.

What have I gotten myself into?

----

The castle was eerily quiet when you slipped out.

Oikawa’s absence was a stroke of luck.

But you didn’t stop to question it.

You half-expected Kuro to come bounding after you, or worse—Oikawa himself, materializing from the darkness with that infuriating smirk.

But nothing happened.

By the time you reached the human village, your legs ached and your breath came in ragged gasps. The wooden gates creaked open, and wary eyes studied you before recognition flickered in their gaze.

A woman with sun-worn skin and calloused hands stepped forward. "You’re the one the demon king’s been hunting, aren’t you?"

"Word travels fast. Don’t worry—we don’t turn away strays here."

The village was small but nothing like the cold, gilded halls of Oikawa’s domain. People moved, trading goods, sharpening blades, murmuring about the growing threat of the Demon King’s forces.

A weathered hunter handed you a rolled parchment. "You’ve got fire in you if you survived him. Might as well put it to use."

The commission was simple: Clear the nearby ruins of shadowbeasts.

As night fell, you sat by the hearth, listening to stories of this world—the wars, the lost heroes, the whispers of a prophecy.

"They say the Demon King can’t be killed by just anyone," an old man muttered, swirling his drink. "Only someone from another world can end him."

The days in the human village had been strangely peaceful. You spent your time honing your newfound abilities, testing the limits of your strength, speed, and even a flicker of magic you hadn’t realized you possessed. The villagers watched in awe as you felled shadowbeasts.

Leveling up.

The thought almost made you laugh. This wasn’t a game anymore. This was survival.

"You’re a natural," the village hunter remarked one evening, tossing you a freshly forged dagger. "Ever think about joining a proper adventurer’s guild?"

You caught the blade, spinning it between your fingers. "Maybe. But I’ve got other things to deal with first."

Whispers had been spreading—of a legendary Hero’s party marching toward the Demon King’s domain, armed with sacred relics and sworn to end Oikawa’s reign.

Finally. A real chance to see someone stand against him.

That morning, you volunteered to gather rare herbs from the forest’s edge, a task that conveniently brought you closer to the main road where the Hero’s party was said to pass.

BOOM.

The ground trembled. Birds scattered from the trees in a flurry of wings. Your head snapped toward the horizon, where the distant silhouette of Oikawa’s castle stood against the sky.

A second thunderous crash echoed, this time followed by a flash of blinding light—magic.

"What the hell…?" 

The Hero’s party. They must have arrived early.

And they were attacking.

You ran to witness the scene.

The closer you got, the louder the sounds of battle became—clashing steel, shouted spells, the occasional roar of something monstrous.

Kuro?

You burst into a clearing just in time to see the castle’s outer walls crumbling, dust and debris raining down. A group of warriors stood at the gates—four figures.

"My, my~ You came all this way just to die?"

A tall swordsman with a blazing golden aura—stepped forward, his blade pointed at Oikawa’s throat. "Your reign ends today, demon."

"Oh, I adore when they say that."

Then his gaze locked onto you.

"Ah. There you are."

He knew you were watching.

The world seemed to slow as Oikawa raised a single hand, his fingers curling with dark intent. The air itself warped around him. A pulse of black energy erupted from his palm, swallowing the Hero’s party whole.

That was his worst spell? And he’d cast it like it was nothing.

Oikawa sighed, brushing imaginary dust off his sleeve. "Honestly, I expected more from the so-called Hero." His gaze slid to you, amusement dancing in his eyes. "But I suppose I have you to thank for the real entertainment."

Vines burst from the earth, coiling around your limbs before you could react. They dragged you forward, thorns biting into your skin as you were hauled toward him.

Iwaizumi stood silently at his side. Kuro whined low in his throat, recognizing you, but a single glance from Oikawa had the beast flattening its ears and staying put.

"Did you miss me?" Oikawa purred, tilting your chin up with a clawed finger. "Or did you really think I wouldn’t notice you sneaking off?"

You gritted your teeth. "I wasn’t sneaking. I left."

"Oh? And yet, here you are again." His grip shifted, fingers wrapping around your throat "Did you enjoy your little rebellion? Playing hero with the villagers? Watching those fools march to their deaths?"

"At least they tried to stop you."

"And you? What will you try, I wonder?"

You spat in his face.

He wiped his cheek with his sleeve, his smile never fading. "How adorable."

You summoned the first spell that came to mind—a weak spark of fire, barely more than an ember—and hurled it at him.

He flicked it away like a gnat.

"Did you really think that would work?" His grip tightened, cutting off your air for one terrifying second before releasing you just as quickly.

"Tonight, you’ll learn what happens to naughty little runaways."

Then he turned, snapping his fingers. The vines dragged you after him as he strode back toward the castle, Iwaizumi falling into step beside him. Kuro whined again, padding after you, but Oikawa didn’t so much as glance back.

---

The grand hall of Oikawa’s castle was steeped in shadow, the air thick with the weight of whispered strategies and the clink of goblets. The Demon King lounged on his throne, one leg draped carelessly over the armrest, as his most fearsome subordinates debated border skirmishes in hushed, venomous tones.

Iwaizumi stood at his right, arms crossed.

"AAAAAAAHHHHHHHHH—!"

The doors burst open with a crash.

Every head in the room snapped toward the sound, weapons drawn in an instant—only to freeze at the sight before them.

You. Dripping wet. Barefoot. Wrapped in nothing but a hastily clutched bath towel.

"THERE’S A GIANT FUCKING CENTIPEDE IN THE BATHS!" you shrieked, pointing behind you with a trembling hand.

"Pfft—"

Oikawa dissolved into laughter, his shoulders shaking as he nearly toppled off his throne. "Oh my god—" he wheezed, wiping a tear from his eye. "This is the best day of my life."

The rest of the demons just stared. Some looked horrified. Others looked like they were seriously reconsidering their life choices.

Iwaizumi pinched the bridge of his nose. "You’ve got to be kidding me."

A skittering, chittering noise echoed from the hallway.

Your face went pale. "IT’S COMING—"

The doors exploded inward as a monstrous, segmented horror—easily the size of a horse—surged into the room, mandibles clicking, dozens of legs scuttling across the marble floor.

Oikawa, still grinning, lazily lifted a hand.

"Honestly, darling, you bring the weirdest things home."

A blade of pure shadow sliced through the air—and the centipede popped like an overripe grape, ichor splattering across the floor in a grotesque arc.

You stood there, towel still clutched to your chest, breathing hard.

Oikawa sighed dreamily. "I adore you."

The bath water had long gone cold by the time you finally dragged yourself out, your muscles still tense from the earlier ordeal. The servants had left a tray of food outside your door—roasted meat, warm bread, a goblet of spiced wine—but they refused to meet your eyes as they scurried away. Their fear was palpable.

You ate in silence, the weight of exhaustion pressing down on you. The bed looked like salvation—soft furs, plush pillows—and you nearly collapsed into it, ready to let sleep claim you.

Then the door creaked open.

"Tired?"

You didn’t even bother sitting up as he stepped inside.

"What do you want?" you muttered into the pillows.

He tsked, circling the bed like a predator. "So rude. After I saved you from that dreadful little pest?"

You scoffed. "You laughed."

"Because it was hilarious." He perched on the edge of the bed, his fingers trailing along the curve of your shoulder. "But now, I think it’s time for us to have a proper chat."

"Let’s start simple," he mused. "Your name."

You turned your head just enough to glare at him. "You don’t know it?"

"I could rip it from your mind if I wanted. But where’s the fun in that?"

Reluctantly, you gave in.

He hummed, testing the syllables on his tongue like a fine wine. "Hm. It suits you."

"Now, about that punishment I promised you..."

"You did think I’d forget, didn’t you?" 

You tried to twist away, but he was faster, he flipped you onto your back, pinning you beneath him.

"Oikawa—"

"Ah-ah." He tutted, leaning down until his lips brushed your ear. "No more games tonight."

Then his teeth sank into your shoulder.

You gasped, pain flaring hot and sharp as he bit down before pulling back with a satisfied smirk.

"There." He licked the blood from his lips. "Now you’ll remember who you belong to."

And with that, he was gone—leaving you with the sting of his mark.

The bite mark on your shoulder burned every time you even thought of defying Oikawa. A cruel little failsafe—his way of ensuring you couldn’t act against him without consequence.

But you weren’t about to let that stop you.

If you couldn’t fight him directly, you’d find another way.

Rumors whispered through the castle halls—of something powerful hidden deep beneath the dungeons, locked away where even Oikawa’s most trusted demons dared not go.

You waited until the dead of night, when the torches burned low and the guards were sluggish with boredom. You stole the key and soon you were slipping down the winding stone stairs, the air growing colder with every step.

Sobbing.

That… wasn’t what you expected.

At the end of the corridor, curled in the farthest cell, was a child.

A small demon boy with messy hair and a single, jagged horn. His eyes snapped to you the moment you stepped into view.

"Who… who are you?" 

You hesitated. "I could ask you the same thing."

He shrank back slightly. "Kageyama Tobio."

Your grip tightened on the key.

"Do you want to get out of here?"

You hadn’t expected what happened next.

The moment the cell door creaked open, Kageyama changed.

His small frame twisted, bones cracking, shadowy energy erupting around him as he grew—taller, broader, until a monstrous, horned demon loomed over you, his once-childish face now sharp with fury.

His voice was a roar, shaking the dungeon walls.

You barely had time to dive out of the way before Kageyama slammed through the stone ceiling, debris raining down as he surged upward—toward the castle.

The entire fortress shook as Kageyama tore through corridors. Demons scrambled, alarms blared, and somewhere in the distance, you heard Oikawa’s voice—laughing.

"Oh? Tobio-chan decided to join the party?"

It took him nearly an hour to subdue Kageyama.

When he landed in front of you, his coat was singed, his hair disheveled, but his grin was vicious.

"Did you miss me that much? You could’ve just asked for my attention."

You glared. "I was trying to prank you, not unleash a demonic disaster."

"Even better." His thumb brushed your lip. "But next time? Ask me first."

The bite mark on your shoulder burned in warning.

Note to self: No more freeing mysterious dungeon children.

Oikawa Tooru—no, just Tooru now, as he’d so imperiously insisted—had made one thing very clear:

“No more trouble, darling.”

You ignored him.

Because while he may have forbidden you from directly undermining him, he never said anything about… research.

The Demon Kingdom was vast, its citizens varied—lesser demons, shadowbeasts, even the occasional cursed spirit lurking in alleyways. And yet, one thing united them all:

Their baffling obsession with Oikawa Tooru.

You’d seen it before—the way servants tripped over themselves to please him, the way warriors preened under his attention, the way even the most fearsome demons turned into blushing messes with a single smirk from him.

But why?

And more importantly—how could you use it against him?

“Excuse me,” you said, cornering a flustered imp in the kitchens. “On a scale of ‘terrified’ to ‘would die for him,’ how would you rate your loyalty to Lord Oikawa?”

The imp squeaked. “W-Would die isn’t high enough—”

Noted.

You moved on.

A towering, battle-scarred demon general? “His laugh haunts my dreams. In a good way.”

A shy librarian demon with too many eyes? “H-His hands are so elegant…”

Even Kuro, when you bribed him with extra meat: “He scratches behind my ears just right.”

By sundown, your chamber was a disaster of scattered notes, hastily scribbled rankings, and one very incriminating pie chart titled:

“Reasons People Are Down Bad for Oikawa Tooru (And How To Exploit It).”

You didn’t notice the door creak open.

You definitely didn’t notice the two figures standing in the doorway, one visibly exasperated, the other…

“Oh my,” Oikawa purred, plucking a sheet off the floor. “Is this a ranking of how attractive my subjects find my smile?”

Your head snapped up.

Oikawa was already flipping through your notes, his grin widening with every page. “’Voice like melted sin’? ‘Hair so soft it’s unfair’? Darling.” He pressed a hand to his chest. “I’m flattered.”

“It’s not a compliment. It’s data.”

“Data you collected because…?”

“Because I’m figuring out how to ruin you”

Oikawa burst out laughing. “I adore you.” He tossed the papers back onto the bed. “By all means, keep going. I’d love to see what you do with this.”

And with that, he strolled out—leaving you surrounded by evidence of his own infuriating charm.

That night, you collapsed onto the bed, exhausted, papers strewn around you.

Somewhere in the mess was the real answer—the key to unraveling him.

You just had to find it.

The knock startled you awake—three sharp raps against your chamber door. You groaned, shoving aside the mountain of research notes you’d fallen asleep on, and stumbled to open it.

A demon you’d never seen before stood there, his armor scuffed and his single yellow eye gleaming in the dim torchlight.

“Kageyama Tobio requests your presence” 

You blinked. “…He’s locked up.”

The demon shrugged. “And yet, he asked for you.”

Curiosity won out.

Kageyama looked even worse than before—pale, his horn cracked, chains thicker than last time digging into his wrists. But his eyes burned with an intensity that made you pause.

“You’re the one from another world” 

“How do you know that?”

“That didn't matter.” His gaze flickered to the guard, who stepped outside, leaving you alone. “There’s a way to kill Oikawa Tooru. And a way for you to go home.”

“True love’s blade,” he continued. “The Namidagiri—the Sword of Tears. It lies at the bottom of Lake Akuyami, in the Valley of Lament. Stab him through the heart with it, and he dies.”

You frowned. “That sounds like a fairy tale.”

“It’s the only thing that can kill a demon king,” Kageyama insisted. “And you—you’re the only one who can wield it. Because you don’t belong here.”

“Why are you telling me this?”

“Because I loathe him.”

You left the dungeon in a daze.

It’s just a game.

That’s what you told yourself.

If I kill him, I go home. And he’ll just respawn. No consequences.

So why did your chest ache at the thought?

Your research came in handy.

Lake Akuyami was a cursed place, said to drown anyone who tried to swim in it. But according to your notes, Oikawa had hated it since childhood.

“Too many sad memories” a servant had scribbled in the margins of an old ledger.

Weakness confirmed.

Now, you just had to find the damn sword.

The journey took three days.

The lake was exactly as described—a mirror-smooth obsidian void, nestled between jagged cliffs.

You took a deep breath and dove in.

The water was cold. Not just temperature-cold, but soul-cold, like it was leaching the warmth from your very bones. You swam deeper.

There.

Embedded in the lakebed, glowing faintly, was a blade of pure silver.

You grabbed it.

Your fingers closed around the hilt of the Namidagiri—and the moment you pulled, the lake itself seemed to recoil.

The blade snapped in half.

You barely had time to register the broken shard in your hand before the lake’s fury erupted—currents twisting like enraged serpents, dragging you toward the depths. You kicked wildly, lungs burning, until you breached the surface, gasping.

Clutched in your grip was only the top half of the legendary sword, its edge still gleaming with an eerie silver light. The rest remained lodged in the lakebed.

"Damn it" 

But half a blade was better than none.

You returned to the castle, the fractured Namidagiri hidden beneath your cloak.

Kageyama’s words haunted you.

"Stab him through the heart."

But how? Oikawa was always on guard.

So you played the part he wanted.

The next few days, you doted on him like a lovesick fool.

You brought him his favorite wine.

You laughed at his jokes (even the terrible ones).

You let him drape himself over you like a spoiled cat, his fingers tracing idle patterns on your skin as he murmured about how adorable you were.

Iwaizumi watched you with narrowed eyes, clearly suspicious, but Oikawa?

Oikawa was delighted.

You had to wait for the perfect moment.

That night, as you lay beside him in the dim candlelight, his breathing slow and even, you finally let yourself think it:

What if this isn’t just a game?

What if Oikawa didn’t respawn?

What if killing him meant he was just… gone?

"You’re thinking too loud" Oikawa murmured, his voice thick with sleep. His arm curled around your waist, pulling you closer. "Whatever it is… it can wait until morning."

"Right..."

The moment the broken Namidagiri pierced the air toward Oikawa’s heart—his hand snapped up, catching the blade just before it could strike true.

Blood dripped between his fingers, dark and shimmering like liquid shadow.

"You really thought that would work?"

Oikawa tilted his head, studying you with something between amusement and hurt. "After everything I’ve given you. After all the fun we’ve had. You’d really try to kill me?"

"It’s the only way home." You answered truthfully.

His grip on the blade tightened, his blood staining the sheets. "Home?" A bitter laugh. "You think that’s what this is about?"

"Or is it that you’ve already got someone else in your heart?" His voice dropped to a whisper. "Someone you’d rather belong to?"

You recoiled. "What? No—"

"Or maybe," he continued, advancing on you, "you just hate the idea of being mine so much that you’d rather die than stay."

The bite mark on your shoulder burned, again.

You gasped, but before you could react, Oikawa was on you—pinning you down, his free hand tearing at your clothes.

"Fine," he growled. "If you need a reminder of who you belong to, I’ll carve it into your skin myself—"

Your fingers closed around the other half of the Namidagiri—the shard that had flown from your grip moments ago—and with a desperate cry, you plunged it into his chest.

Oikawa staggered back, staring down at the blade buried to the hilt in his heart.

"...Hah."

A trickle of blood spilled from his lips.

His knees hit the floor.

The world shattered.

You woke up.

The familiar glow of your computer screen greeted you with the word "VICTORY" flashing.

You were home.

A shaky laugh escaped you as you slumped back in your chair, running a hand through your hair. It had worked. You’d won.

The mark on your shoulder was gone.

Then—

A crash from the kitchen.

Your apartment was supposed to be empty.

Heart pounding, you grabbed the nearest weapon (a half-empty water bottle) and crept toward the noise.

The fridge door was open.

A tall, familiar figure stood in front of it, humming as he rummaged through your snacks.

No fucking way.

He turned, holding up a yogurt cup with a smirk.

"You really need to stock better desserts."

Your grip on the water bottle tightened.

"Motherf—"

[heartshapedmisery]

𝐚 𝐟𝐢𝐫𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐞𝐯𝐞𝐫𝐲𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠 | jon snow

summary ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ in which jon wanders too far north of the wall into free folk territory and is put under your supervision, mance rayder's daughter, after your voluntary offer of him staying in your tent. you never thought you would be willing to bunk with a crow, but of course, there's a first for everything.

warnings ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  MINORS DNI ! ( 18+ ) | language, graphic smut, unprotected sex ( wrap it before u tap it y'all ), inexperienced!jon, reader taking jon's virginity, little bit of subby!jon, riding, handjob, mentions of blood ( reader bites jon's lip on accident whoops ), oral ( f! recieving ), jon having a praise k!nk, jon having literally no self-control, reader calling jon a crow about a thousand times lmao, minimal use of Y/N, lmk if i missed anything!

word count ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ 3k +

pairing ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖ jon snow x fem!rayder!reader.

author’s note ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  jon snow is so babygirl

honestly loved writing this, lmk what you think! also, should i make a part two with ygritte involved ?? wink wink

publishing date ― .ﾟ‪‪ ˖  june 26th, 2023 | © HEARTSHAPEDMISERY

When you first saw the darkness of his furs sticking out so flamboyantly against the white of the northern snow, you knew Ygritte had struck gold on her hunt with the others.

You watched with a cautious but intrigued look on your face as she pulled him along behind her by a long rope tied around his hands, cradling a longsword in the crook of her arm with a wide smile on her face. But, the look on the crow's face seemed to be the total opposite.

Everything about him was dark, from his ratted furs to his hair that looked like it hadn't been given a good wash in ages, to even the disgruntled frown that didn't seem to leave his face until Ygritte finally untied him from his restraints. He was a crow, through and through.

You had seen plenty men of the Night's Watch before―even killed a few―but the one who stood before you as you made your way into your father's council tent was different. His eyes were a deep, darling brown, holding a youth that couldn't have been any older than your own. Most of the crows you had captured were all old and gray, not nearly as attractive and brooding as this one.

You didn't know there was such a thing.

"Where'd you find this one?" you whispered to Ygritte, your voice low enough for only her ears, your eyes raking over his figure that seemed disproportioned from the thick of the furs and leathers he wore.

"About a few miles north of the wall," she told you, watching him just as closely as you were. "He was just too pretty to pass up." The two of you shared a laugh as she handed you the young crow's sword, heavy and dull in its scabbard.

The Lord of Bones pushed him roughly towards the man sitting in the center of the tent, biting into a hunk of meat as if it were his last meal.

"I smell a crow," Tormund muffled with his mouth full, turning his head barely enough to get a good look at the young man. His scowl hadn't changed, if anything worsened since being shoved into the large tent.

His name had been Jon Snow, which he revealed to Tormund just before kneeling before him and muttering your grace. The entire tent seemed to bustle with laughter at the attempt of respect, you and Ygritte sending each other a knowing look as the crow's face reddened with embarrassment. Tormund may have looked and fought like one, but he was no king.

"Stand boy," a voice hidden in the back of the tent sounded, silencing everyone in the room within a matter of seconds. Your father, Mance Rayder, unveiled himself from the shadowy corner room behind Tormund, looking down upon Jon Snow as he stood.

Jon was quick to rise to his feet, looking up at him as the man stood taller than even Tormund. "We don't kneel for anyone beyond the wall."

Slowly, you moved towards your father from Ygritte's side, resting your hands on the hilt of the crow's sword as you allowed it to stand in front of you. Your father always valued your opinion when coming to decisions over the free folk, and this matter was no different.

Your eyes had hardened by now, catching Jon's gaze with a look that could only be interpreted as defensive. No matter how pretty you thought he was, he was still a man of the Night's watch. Your enemy infiltrating your land.

You watched him carefully as he went on to explain why he had left the Night's Watch, telling your father about the things he had seen in Craster's Keep.

"And why would that make you want to abandon your brothers?" Mance asked, his voice low and gravelly. His words seemed to intimidate the young man, his eyes flitting away from your father's before moving back to them hesitantly.

"Answer the question," you growled, leaning in towards him with a malice that couldn't help but send a chill down his spine. His eyes shot to yours, wondering why you were making such commands in the presence of Mance Rayder.

He explained how the Night's Watch did nothing to prevent Craster from giving up his newborn son to the white walkers, creatures that had been known to be gone for centuries.

"I want to fight for the side that fights for the living," he told your father, sparing you only a quick look as you stepped back to Mance's side. "Did I come to the right place?"

Mance mulled over the boy's words before looking down at you, the look on his face clear that he wanted your opinion. "What do you say, girl? Shall the baby crow stay?"

As you held his sword close to your chest, you stepped closer to Jon, your face inches from his as you gave him a good look over. He seemed nervous, his breathy shaky as it blew past his lips.

"I say he can," you paused, circling around him before meeting his gaze once more with a sly smrik on your lips. "But he stays with me."

He didn't speak much to you at first―or anyone really―only saying a few words when needed to and biting his tongue when you made some snide remark or called him a crow.

Since you had taken the responsibility of monitoring him, you practically stuck to Jon like glue until nightfall―as did many other girls in your camp, including Ygritte. She was an exception, but you had to keep running the rest of them off since their eagerness to catch a glimpse of him drove them to fights and quarrels in the snow.

Not to degrade any of the people in your camp, but men that looked like Jon Snow were not a common sight in free folk territory.

After showing him around the camp and getting him a new set of furs made of polar bear skin and boiled leather, you eventually gave him Longclaw back―which was what he called that heavy sword of his. He was grateful, but his disgruntled frown hardly left his face.

"Lose the frown, Jon Snow," you had told him as he joined you and Ygritte for dinner around the fire you had built near your tent. "You're not in the South anymore. There's no need to look so miserable."

When nightfall finally took the sky, you escorted Jon to your tent with a mischievous smirk on your face, earning looks from other wilding girls―most of them being of annoyance or jealousy. Their glares didn't go unnoticed by Jon, a look of confusion and concern evident on his face.

"Are they always like this?" he asked sheepishly, looking over his shoulder as the two of you stood still in front of the flaps of your tent.

You couldn't help but laugh, the scowls on their faces feral and sour as you led him into your tent.

"You're the first pretty crow they've seen in ages, Jon Snow," you told him with a grin. "They'll claw each other's eyes out to lay naked with you."

Your words seemed to surprise him, but he didn't say anything as a reddish tint rose in his cheeks. He had never been with a girl, he was too young before he joined The Watch, and his vows forbade him from lying with a woman. He had never gotten the chance, so the idea couldn't help but intrigue him.

"Your furs are over there," you pointed to the makeshift bed across from yours, "Though I know you'll be far much warmer over here with me."

He disregarded your comment, silent as he made his way over to his side of the tent and tried not to think too hard about laying with you.

It wasn't a large tent, your furs only a mere few feet from his. You still laid rather close despite being on separate sides.

Beginning to undo your outer layers and shedding them off, you were left in only a thin undershirt and pants that barely left anything to the imagination as you sat across from him.

Jon's eyes widened.

You could feel his eyes on you, his cheeks flushed at the sight of your hardened nipples poking through the fabric as you reached over to light a few candles between the two of you to brighten up the tent. He felt a sting of guilt run through his chest; he didn't want to betray his vows, or even think about betraying them, but you were making it very difficult for him to abstain on his side of the tent.

"What, have you never seen a woman's body before, crow?" you said playfully as you undid your hair from the braid it had been pulled back in all day, tousling it with your tired fingers to get ready for bed.

Jon only widened his eyes, gulping rather harshly as his lips parted, catching your eyes that seemed to be filled with nothing but seduction.

"What do you care?" he looked away, the tension too much for him to bare. His cheeks were flaming red at this point, embarrassment flaring in his chest. He could feel his hard-on begin to grow under his thick trousers, hoping to the Old Gods you couldn't see.

"Oh, right," you said sarcastically. "The Night's Watch will hack your hand off if you even think about touching a woman, is that right? Miserable bastards."

Jon tried to protest, his words caught dead in his mouth as you cut him off abruptly.

"Have you ever laid with a woman, Jon Snow?" you asked lowly, sitting up from your spot on your warm furs before slowly starting to crawl over to him, sultry laced thickly in your voice.

He shook his head, his eyes wide and blown out with lust. You were dangerously close to him, sitting down in front of him with your legs tucked neatly beneath you as you leaned in towards him.

"Do you want to?" you said slyly, your lips inches from his.

Your hand slowly reached out for his, grasping it gently before bringing it to your breast and allowing him to cup it. A shaky sigh blew past his plump lips, his gaze flitting down to your chest as he rubbed the pad of his thumb over your sensitive nipple gently.

The words tumbled out of his mouth before he could even think. Before he could remember the vow that he had made not long ago. Your sweet scent of firewood and pine was like truth serum to his senses. "More than anything."

His gentle, pleading words were enough for you to bring your lips to his, enveloping in the taste of him as you moved swiftly onto his lap, lips moving in sync hungrily as if he would be your last.

His arms tightened around your waist, pulling you flush against his hard chest. As you lowered your hips down onto his lap, you could feel him hard against your core, making you gasp in surprise.

You laughed gently under your breath in excitement as his eyes fluttered shut, not being able to help yourself as you began to slowly grind against him, earning a low and shaky whimper from his throat.

It was like music to your ears; his soft whimpers and pants. When you had been with other wildling men, they grunted and groaned as they worked their way in and out of you, almost animalistic. Jon was different.

"Do you like it when I do this?" You cooed in his ear. His moans were soft and desperate as he yearned for more of your touch, his hands gentle and needy as they grasped at your hips and worked you across his lap slowly.

He had no idea how much of an effect it had on you. How his exasperated pants made something foreign blossom in your chest and spread down to your lower half.

"Please," he begged as he pulled away from your lips, looking up at you with an adoration you had never seen from any free folk. You had him wrapped around your finger, drunk on your warm touch. Nothing could've riled you up more.

"You can have me however you want," you promised him, tucking a stray piece of hair behind his ear. Slowly, you pulled your undershirt off over your head before wriggling out of your thin pants, leaving your body bare and on display for him. "You're mine now, Jon Snow."

Your hand traveled down slowly between your bodies, running over the front of his trousers and cupping his hard-on, dancing your fingers across it tauntingly. "But first, let me help you with this."

Your fingers quickly worked at the ties at his trousers, pulling it open and helping him get rid of them before assisting him in removing his heavy furs and leathers and throwing them to the side, leaving him bare and warm beneath you, his pale, toned skin burning against your own.

Carefully, you sat back down on his lap, sitting at the edge of his knees so you could get a good look at him splayed out before you. Excitement buzzed in your chest at the sight of his reddened tip, leaking with precum practically begging to be touched.

With a soft look, your hand grasped his hardened cock gently, making him shudder at the sudden contact.

The feeling was foreign to him; Sure, he had used his own hand once or twice to relieve himself when he was feeling desperate, but his calloused and thick hands didn't compare to your small, soft, and experienced ones as you began to pump him gently.

"O-Oh," he sighed, his eyes fluttering shut as you rubbed him carefully, allowing your forehead to press gently to his. You could feel his soft, warm pants fanning against your face, gentle moans falling from his lips every so often.

"You're so good for me," you whispered to him, your thumb running over the slit at the head of his cock, earning a shaky gasp from him. Your lips peppered kisses against his, before moving slowly to his cheeks and working your way down his jaw tauntingly.

The feeling of your lips leaving hot, open-mouthed kisses along the skin of his neck and collarbone made him ecstatic. He didn't know what he had done to earn such a heavenly gift from the gods, but he knew he never wanted this to end. He never wanted to be without your touch.

"F-Fuck," he whined, entranced by the look of desire in your eyes as you rubbed him.

His toned stomach contracted gently, his abs tensing as he inched closer and closer to his release. His moans became more guttural, incoherent mumbles to the sound of your name filling your ears.

"I'm g-gonna-" he warned, his eyes fluttering shut. But, before he could finish his sentence, hot, white spurts of his release shot onto his stomach, painting him sinfully as a shaky groan rumbled in his chest in response. It lit something inside you, the way he trembled beneath your touch and moaned your name as if it were a prayer. You could drown in it.

Carefully, you reached for the undershirt you had thrown off and wiped his stomach clean, not caring you had dirtied it and would have to wash it by hand on the morrow.

A calm silence fell between you, allowing his forehead to fall to the crook of your neck as his hands snaked around your waist, pulling your chest flush against his. Your warmth was something he wanted to live in forever. He never wanted to leave this tent.

"You're so-" he mumbled against your skin, his breath faltering as he tried to find the right words. "You're so good at that."

You couldn't help but blush. The way he worshipped you made you ecstatic, your hands raking through his dark curls as you tilted his head up to look at you.

"Can I kiss you?" he rasped. His eyes were full of want, his eyebrows pulling together slightly as he pawed at the flesh of your thigh. Carefully, you moved to bring your lips to his with a wide grin but he stopped you, pulling his head to the side tauntingly.

He shook his head gently. "Not there."

You didn't understand what he meant. Kiss you where?

Cautiously, he pulled you off of his lap and laid you down on the soft furs, his body hovering over yours as he slotted himself in between your legs.

He began to make his way down your body with gentle kisses, nipping at your supple skin as he trailed from the crook of your neck to all the way down between your plush thighs, leaving little love bites in the wake of his mouth as he inched dangerously close to where you needed him most.

"Getting brave, aren't we?" you taunt, his hands moving to tuck your legs onto his shoulders before he gripped your hips with both of his hands firmly, holding you in place as you could feel his warm breath fanning against your glistening core.

He ignored your snide remark, wasting no time before licking a clean stripe against your cunt and beginning to work away at you, his eyes fluttering shut at the sound of your euphoric moans.

Your face contorted with pleasure as you felt his lips wrap around your clit, gently sucking at it, before cautiously bringing his middle and ring fingers to your core and allowing them to curl in an upward motion blissfully.

You had never felt anything like this before. The way his tongue moved against your folds made you ecstatic, wondering what they put in the southern water to make him so good at what he was doing.

"J-Jon," you gasped, your fingers combing through his dark locks and giving them a good tug, earning a moan from him as it vibrated against your core and only pushed you closer to your high. Your thighs clenched around his head in an attempt to pull him closer to you, the tip of his nose brushing up against your clit just enough to make you jolt with a shaky gasp.

He enticed moans out of you like never before, licking and sucking at your core in ways you didn't even know were possible. He seemed so skilled for claiming to have never touched a woman before. Could he have been lying to you?

Your eyes practically rolled to the back of your head as you saw his hips begin to grind slowly against the furs as he lapped away at your core, his cock hard once more from the sweet taste of you. Moans grumbled in his chest as he squeezed your thighs tighter, his fingers sure to leave bruises on your supple skin.

The abrupt feeling of his fingers pulling out of your core made you whine. But his tongue entering you was enough to make you see stars, your back arching up off the soft furs as you could feel the tight coil in your stomach begin to snap.

Your wanton moans filled his ears, loud enough to be heard by the rest of the camp, but you didn't care. Your only concern was him and your climax—which wasn't far off.

"Gods!" your heel dug into the middle of his muscular back as you gripped the furs at your side, your orgasm washing over you unlike ever before. Your thighs trembled gently around Jon's head, his mouth pulling away from your core, his chin glistening with your release as he watched you with a lazy smile while you writhed in pleasure before him.

He pulled himself up so he was hovering over you once more, his face a mere few inches from yours as your chest heaved up and down, coming down from your high. Your eyelids felt heavy as he gripped your hip, and the sheer look of lust in his eyes made your lips crash against his hungrily.

You could taste your release on his lips as his tongue slipped into your mouth, not even thinking before wrapping your legs around his waist and flipping him over on the furs, now sitting on his lap as he laid breathlessly beneath you.

You smiled at the way he looked up at you with want, his hands playing with the flesh of your ass impatiently. His hardened cock beneath your wet core made it hard for you to concentrate, but you still managed to roll your hips against his tauntingly.

"Just lay there, sweet. Let me give you what you want," you rasped, your hands splayed flat on his chest as your teasing became nearly unbearable for him.

"Please," he pleaded. "I need to feel you."

Slowly, you brought your hand to grasp him gently, giving him a few pumps before guiding him towards your entrance as you hovered over him, your eyes not leaving his as you sank down onto him.

Relieved moans left your mouths in unison, your cunt stretching around him sweeter than he could imagine. Your warmth made his heart flutter, his hands gripping your hips firmly as he waited for you to move.

Soft whimpers filled the space between you as your hips slowly began to roll across his lap, your nails raking down the front of his toned chest as you fell into a steady pace. His mind was fogged with the sheer sight of you on top of him, finding the gentle bounce of your breasts with every movement entrancing.

"Fuck, you feel so good," he breathed, his head falling back as he screwed his eyes shut, which couldn't help but send a wave of pleasure straight to your core. You couldn't help yourself when your fingers trailed to your clit and began to rub the sensitive bundle of nerves back and forth, clenching around his length with each roll of your hips.

"Gods," he cursed, sitting up from his spot on the soft furs as you still guided your hips back and forth on his cock.

Your arm automatically slung around his broad shoulders as his own pulled you closer to him by your waist while he propped himself up with his free hand, allowing him to thrust up inside of you and reach deeper than before.

The way the tip of his cock just barely brushed your cervix enraptured you. You were finding it very hard to believe that he had never done this before.

"Right there," you panted out, gripping his bare shoulder so hard your fingernails were sure to leave tiny crescent indents in his skin. His pace quickened, slowly becoming more desperate and sloppy as your moans grew with it. You were sure the entire camp could've heard the lot of you by now.

His lips met yours in an instant, a poor attempt on Jon's part at silencing you as best he could. You allowed his tongue to roam your mouth, your fingers collecting at the nape of his neck to hold him closer to you. But to his surprise―with a sudden thrust of his hips―your teeth caught his bottom lip with a moan.

"Ahh," he hissed, the metallic taste of blood collecting at the front of his mouth. He pulled back, panting heavily as the look of lust didn't leave his eyes. Your lips were reddened and wet, and the way your tongue poked out barely to wipe them clean made a low groan rumble in his chest.

Within an instant, he smashed his lips back onto yours, pushing you back so you were laying flat on the furs now with his hips between your legs, his length still inside of you as he wasted no time to begin a steady pace pistoning in and out of you messily.

"Jon!" you moaned, his cock stretching you perfectly with each thrust. His lips attacked at the supple skin of your neck, peppering little love bites trailing down over your collarbone. You could feel him wince between moans against your skin as your nails dug into his back uncontrollably, leaving long, reddened welts along his pale skin.

Your fingers trailed slowly up to his hair, giving it a good tug as you brought his lips to yours. Your movements earned a low grumble in the back of his throat in response, his hips beginning to stutter as he could feel his climax rising.

You weren't far off either, with his sweet, incandescent moans that made the coil in your stomach tighten filling your ears. "Are you gonna come for me, baby?"

A guttural moan ripped through Jon's throat at your soft whispers, unable to form words as he nodded his head breathlessly. You could feel his cock twitch inside of you, his last few thrusts hard and deep before pulling out of you—just enough to send you over the edge of your high.

You swiftly propped yourself up on your elbows, breathless from your climax as he pumped his shaft a few times before releasing himself all over your stomach and chest. His face contorted with pleasure as you watched him with amazement, a sly smirk creeping on your face as he came hard.

A gentle silence fell between the two of you as he caught his breath, moving to lay next to you on the soft furs and wrapping his arm around your waist before pulling you close to his side. His warmth burned against your cheek as you laid your head on his chest, running your fingers lazily across his skin.

"You were right," he whispered against your hair, pressing a kiss to your head as you snuggled your face into the crook of his neck. You smiled against his skin, "How so?"

You lifted your head up, meeting his darling brown eyes as a small smirk tugged at the corner of his lips.

"I'm far much warmer with you."

[brittle-doughie]

Tribute Day (Cookie Kingdom)

Y/N Cookie: “Yet again, it is Tribute Day. The time of the month where kingdoms and villages with their cookies send their gratitude and admiration with gifts.”

Dumpling Cookie: “You’ve grown a reputation across the land, Y/N. It’s not out of the norm that the cookies simply wish to give their thanks. It would be rude of us to decline them, they even just got here.”

You sighed in acceptance as you lay back in your throne.

Y/N Cookie: “Alright, alright. Let’s see the tributes this time, advisor.”

Dumpling turned back to her cohorts, Salsa and Crowned Cupcake, who proceeded to bring in the tributes.

Salsa Cookie: “The tribute of the Hollyberry Kingdom is 50 crates of juice, your Majesty. They had plenty during harvesting this year.”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “Darling, the Dark Cacao Kingdom has sent you 8 crates of weaponry! Sharpened and polished for the best possible cutting and stabbing!”

Dumpling Cookie: “The Golden Cheese Kingdom sends their tribute of 8 chests of gold and treasures.”

Y/N Cookie: “I can see which of the three is trying to win my favor…”

Salsa Cookie: “The Pure Vanilla Kingdom sent…bags of raisins. Hmph, talk about a tribute…”

Y/N Cookie: “Hey, Puré Vanilla stepped down as king, the PV Kingdom is for everyone there. I don’t care if they sent me dirt, the fact they even sent anything at all is surprising enough.”

Salsa Cookie: “You’re right, I’m..I’m sorry for speaking out of line, Y/N Cookie. I promise I’ll do better….”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “I’m sure you didn’t mean to be against my darling’s word. Because if you did, I might have to kill ya~”

Salsa Cookie: “Back up, you lunatic.”

Dumpling Cookie: “If you guys are going to kill each other, please do it outside so that it’s easier to clean. That would be great, thanks.”

Y/N Cookie: “Alright, alright. That’s enough, you three. Let’s see…a tribute from the Silver Kingdom?”

Salsa Cookie: “It’s a cart of plants that are native in that region. White Lily Cookie had figured it would look nice in the garden…”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “White Lily Cookie? You mean that impudent wretch trying to get at my darling? Ooo hoo hoo, silly mistake~”

Dumpling Cookie: “Do not start swinging that sword around.”

Salsa Cookie then reached into one of the potted plants and fished out a letter.

Salsa Cookie: “Is this…a love letter-CRUMBS!”

Salsa Cookie is spooked when a dagger is suddenly thrown at the letter she was holding, pinning it to the wall.

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “My hand slipped.”

Salsa Cookie: “The hell is wrong with you, psycho?! You could’ve chopped my hand off!”

Dumpling Cookie: “Please stop shouting, you’re making a scene!”

Salsa Cookie: “I should have half a mind to chop your head off right now!”

Crowned Cupcake Cookie: “You wanna go, tough cookie?”

Y/N Cookie: “Maybe I should’ve invited Financier to do tributes this time…”

[redtsundere-writes]

Part 1: Ear Cleaning

King!SukunaRyomen x Servant!FemReader

Summary: You used to be just another servant among the army of humans operating under the command of the terrible king, Sukuna Ryomen. An ordinary human who only knows how to wash, clean and cook. Until one day, he notices something in you that you hadn't seen before.

Tags: MDNI. +18. Murder. Blood. Cannibalism. Sukuna Ryomen Is The Warning Itself. Nudity. Sexual Display. Vaginal. Fingering. Sometimes fluff, sometimes angst. Beta Read.

Word Count: 2022 words.

A/N: From popular demand, I'll post the fic here too. Enjoy! :3

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Sukuna walked through the hollow corridors, illuminated by the dark sun that ruled among the kingdoms. His long, heavy footsteps made the marble floor rumble under his weight. His sharp profile, tattooed shoulders and large body, contrasted by the reddish sky of the cursed land, terrified any small human who encountered him on the way. A king who could control anything thanks to the terror that his gigantic size and absolute power conveyed.

He had the power on his hands to kill whatever and whenever he wanted like an omnipotent god, but enjoyed watching his rats run around to obey his mercy. It amused him to play with his servants to the point of making them cry, tremble or, in extreme cases, commit suicide. He had plenty of servants, so he could afford to kill as many as he wanted. The poor uniformed humans shivered if his dark eyes rested on them. They all tried to avoid him at all costs to avoid performing tasks that involved being near him, especially cleaning his ears.

Being a monster with senses sharpened to the max, he hated having his ears touched, but it was necessary for him to clean them to have his five senses ready for any battle. He is not ticklish, but his ears are the most sensitive part of his entire body. He could clean his own ears himself, but what kind of almighty, powerful king would clean his own ears when others could do it?

His eyes navigated through the long and endless corridors of the terrifying castle where he lived with all his subjects. The king's home was a place where darkness, cold, and uncertainty dominated the atmosphere. Even though it was surrounded by luxuries, it felt more like a secret attic than a castle fit for a king. Opaque silver chandeliers, red candles parading on the walls and furniture upholstered with exotic fabrics from around the world decorated each room that was commonly surrounded by portraits made by hundreds of artists who feared for their lives.

His predatory eyes sought out the first unfortunate servant that crossed his path. The bristles of a broom scrubbing the floor caught his attention. Sukuna spotted a small figure sweeping one of the many guest rooms. There you were, humming softly a song from your childhood as the broom danced from side to side. You were so focused on your task that you didn't notice the king standing dangerously close to you. As you turned around, you suddenly bumped into his imposing body, giving you a mini heart attack. Dressed in elegant robes, gold rings on each finger and with a wicked grin on his face, he was looking at you as if you were a despicable creature he could get rid of in the blink of an eye.

You were the youngest and most inexperienced servant in the entire castle. You had not been living there for more than two months, so your direct interactions with the king had been few. Sukuna examined you from head to toes. He remembered you perfectly from the day he met you. Your neatly combed pigtails with two white bows showed off your innocence, the apron accentuated your small waist and the long brown skirt covered your promising legs. He accepted it, you were cute. Other than that, you were a disgusting human like everyone else, but there was something about you that caught his attention. Sukuna didn't know exactly what it was that you had. For the time being, he would continue to treat you as you deserved for being a nasty rat. Immediately, you knelt before your majesty. Your head rested in your hands against the freshly swept floor, your fingers barely touching his feet because of the closeness.

“Are you having fun?” Sukuna asked, sarcastic.

“No, my king,” you answered quickly, avoiding making eye contact.

Sukuna placed one of his bare feet on your back. The oppressive weight crushed you against the cold floor. You prayed inwardly that your bones wouldn't start to creak. You bit your lower lip and closed your eyes tightly to avoid letting out a moan of pain. Having satisfied his need to show the new maid who her master is, he removed his foot from your agonizing back. You took a deep breath to refill your lungs with air.

“To my room. Now,” he ordered without deigning to look at you before leaving the room. You remained on the floor, slowly catching your breath. A metal taste touched your tongue. You bit your lower lip so hard that it was bleeding.

This was the first time he ordered something directly to you. Usually you followed Uraume's general instructions like everyone else. You sat up slowly to regain what little balance you had left. You followed him to his room as he had ordered. Your heart was going to burst out of your chest from how nervous you were. As your small steps echoed like a pleasant trickle in the gloom, the servants came out of their hiding spots to quickly sign you to wish you the best of luck and that you would make it out of his room alive. That only put more pressure on you.

You entered your majesty's luxurious room. Your eyes were fascinated to see so many extravagances in one place. Crystal chandeliers, rugs made of exotic animals and gold decorative pieces. All the furniture was precisely designed to suit his majesty's tastes and everything was neatly arranged. Unlike the rest of the castle, his room was a museum full of expensive artworks that the average person could not even imagine existed.

The great, fearsome monster was laying on a red satin-covered divan. His eyes were closed, his four arms crossed over his broad chest, and his legs barely touched the floor due to the impressive length of the seat. You approached him carefully so as not to ruin his peace. Next to the divan, there was a wooden cabinet with all the necessary tools to groom him thoroughly.

“Clean my ears,” he ordered in a gruff voice, cocking his head over the rest for you to begin immediately. “You better do a good job,” he threatened you. You swallowed dryly because it would be the first time you would touch his majesty and, if you did it wrong, the last.

You pulled out the necessary tools and knelt in front of his head. As expected, the king smelled exquisite. It was strong, woody and addictive. His pink hair was soft to the touch, but you tried to avoid touching it so as not to muss it. You dedicated yourself to cleaning the outside of his ear with a swab, focusing on the helix and the back of the ear. Your hands were delicate around his sensitive ears, and the friction did not bother him because it was minimal and warm.

Sukuna's body began to relax as time passed. If he didn’t focus enough, he could fall asleep. He felt a shiver run down his back as you stuck a small wooden spatula into his ear to remove the excess earwax that prevented him from hearing well. You carefully dug so as not to hurt him. You could feel his discomfort in the way he squeezed his eyelids with each movement you made.

“Let me know if I get too deep, my king,” you said with a shaky voice.

“Just do your damn job,” he answered grudgingly.

You continued cleaning his ear little by little. The task was not as complicated as you thought, but you could not let your guard down with a king who could decide your fate with a snap of his fingers. After wiping the outside with absorbent cotton, you were finally done with the first ear. Sukuna was falling asleep until you asked him if he could lie down on his opposite side so you could proceed with the other one. He did so with a grunt of annoyance, as he was very comfortable on that side, while the divan creaked under the shift of his weight.

You took a deep breath. All you had to do was repeat what you had already done, and you would finish the task alive. You watched mesmerized as Sukuna's tattooed chest rose and fell from his steady breathing. Sukuna let out a whimper as soon as you stuck the spatula in too deep. You already felt your throat being slit for a simple mistake.

“Be careful! Can’t you do something so simple?” He grumbled.

You apologized immediately and continued on your task as you lowered your head in fear. “Damn humans,” he thought with a frown. As soon as your magic fingers touched his ear, he got over his anger and returned to the oasis of relaxation where he drifted off.

Sukuna let out a yawn as soon as you finished. A proud smile of your own escaped your lips. You had survived your first direct order. You glanced at the time on the large gold clock hanging over the door. It was getting late, and you had to get back to the kitchen soon to help with the dinner preparations. You returned the utensils to their respective places and got up to politely leave the place.

“Where do you think you’re going?” Sukuna asked you as he got up from the divan to move to his giant bed. “Massage my head,” he ordered once again. You nodded obediently.

His majesty's bed was lined with the softest fabrics in the world. The silk pillows were engraved with the flags of the kingdom, the blankets were of pure wool and the mattress appeared to be made of goose feathers. Sukuna's heavy head was on your comfortable lap. Your soft thighs were softer than his own pillows. Your magic fingers massaged his temples in circles. You could hear him purring subtly like a contented kitten, even though he was physically not as cute as one.

Before long, Sukuna was fast asleep. Seeing his eyes closed and his light breathing, you decided to go back with the other servants to continue your work. As soon as you got off the bed, he felt his heat provider leave his side. Before you could continue your way to the exit, you heard that terrible voice behind you.

“Who told you could leave?” You froze in place and turned to face him. His red eyes looked at you with disdain, more on the terrifying side. “Come here,” your heart did a backflip after hearing that command.

More than an order, it ended up being a warning. He pulled you by the white apron to capture you in his four strong arms. The warmth of his body and yours merged, causing the temperature to rise between you. Your body began to sweat from nerves. You didn't know what his intention was with you. You had never been with a man like this before, let alone a curse tyrant twice your size. All worry disappeared from your mind once he began to stroke your body slowly, taking care not to scratch you with his long black claws.

From your soft hands to your nice hips to your curious feet, every part of your body felt right against his. He roughly snuggled against you like you were a huge teddy bear that needed to stay still. That was all you were to him, a tool to get what he wanted. He wanted a clean castle, a fresh garden, and, right now, a warm plushie for his nap time. You were just a toying for his satisfaction.

His chest slowly moving against your back let you know that his majesty fell asleep. Sukuna did not snore as you thought he would. He let out a fainter and quieter sound, it was almost like a kitten with a stuffy nose. His arms around your waist and shoulders, his heavy breathing and comfortable bicep as a pillow encouraged you to fall asleep next to him. “His majesty's orders,” you thought, so you wouldn't feel so guilty about taking a nap during working hours.

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Masterlist.

[nicknackpw]

Polyancients headcanons because I can

Body type wise both dark cacao and hollyberry are the biggest. Both of them are insanely muscular, the difference is hollyberry has wide hips and thighs that could kill and dark cacao has broad shoulders and man titties with a snatched waist

Golden cheese is all lean muscle. Great abs, muscular thighs, but she's not big. She's the second smallest just over pure vanilla and lords it over him every chance she gets (she's like 2 inches taller)

Pure vanilla is a short king, like 5'2" but cookie equivalent, he kinda has a sleeper build, but it doesn't matter because the others can just pick him up whenever they please

White Lilly cookie is the tallest of all of them, and also the skinniest. She's all beanpole, and while her posture already wasn't great, it gets even worse after she's woken up

Now I don't know enough about the lore to take a hard stance but I don't actually think that they all got together before the flour wars or after them either. I think that they all wanted to, but assumed no one else was interested so never confessed. Afterwards they're all busy with their kingdoms and lives and it isn't until after they finally pass on their kingdoms and soul jams that they can get together and just live on a farm somewhere

(On another note i know it's not really confirmed how or when cookies get old or how immortality works, so I'm just gonna assume it's power scaled and since all of them were strong before they had the soul jams I'm just going to assume they have plenty of years to live out their lives)

Also on the note of soul jams, who do I think they would be passed to? Well I saw a parallel between the main story characters and the ancients that I reblogged, but! there's a more interesting answer I believe

For the soul jam of truth I think pv would either give it to custard cookie the iii or to raisin cookie (this is under the assumption that raisin cookie wouldn't join the polycule which is a whole other story)

For passion, I think the obvious answer is princess cookie, she's a direct descendant and basically proved her worth in the princess contest, but other than that I think choco werehound brute would be the funny answer

For resilience I am literally begging and pleading for dark cacao cookie to apologize to his son and give him the soul jam. I would give anything for it I would write it I would draw it if I could I just need it so so desperately

For abundance it would probably go to one of the other cheese cookies, buttttt from the very little I know of capsaicin cookie (literally nothing I saw the thumbnail of one YouTube video) I think he should get it

Lastly freedom, I think white Lilly would either give it to silverbell, or I think that cream puff cookie should get it purely based on vibes

Also all the ancients are different brands of autistic except golden cheese, she has adhd

Pure vanilla and white Lilly cookie both have the, "wait they were flirting with/bullying/wanted to be friends with me?" Mostly, and pv does the blunt truth thing that neurotypicals hate and white Lilly goes into research mode and doesn't eat or drink for a day or two unless someone makes her

Dark cacao is kinda obvious, there's only so much one man can talk about his literal sword and it feels like every time he has a moment in the story it has to be mentioned once, he's always bringing up his special interest (just like me fr)

Hollyberry is audhd, but sadly cannot claim the uncanny adhd reading people. It's very rare that she dedicates herself to one special interest and instead cycles through a few (she's also just like me fr)

I don't have more depth on golden cheese because I'm still learning about her character, but she just has the vibes