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gauloiseblue · 1 year ago

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Keep Your Eyes On Me

[Giorno Giovanna × Reader]

Never in your wildest dreams did you think you could paint someone as magnificent as Giorno, but it happened just like that. It all started from a small talk about the weather and the lovely sight of his private garden. But as soon as you talked about the progress in your project, he immediately proposed something you wouldn't expect.

"If you really need a model for your painting, you could've just asked me."

You snapped your head towards him at lightning speed.

"For real?" You asked, and he nodded without hesitation. "I mean—isn't that dangerous? I might end up exposing your identity! Because it's gonna be exhibited in the gallery and—and since your face would be on my painting—" You stammered as you tried to explain, "Someone might recognize you, and—"

"Hey, calm down. You think too much." He said with an amused grin, "No one has ever seen my face, except for the few people I trust."

He tilts his head when you squint at him, “I doubt that.”

“You can change my hair color, or alter my face a little bit if you’re still unsure.” He suggested, “Like I said earlier, I don’t mind becoming your muse.”

An amused snort came out from you louder than you intended, “That’s a bold choice of word, Gio.”

“But you always whine about not having a muse.”

“Well,” You scratched your nose, “What I mean by that is having an ordinary person as my muse, not the legitimate Don of passione.”

“I don’t see what’s wrong with that.” He raised his brow, and an exasperated sigh left your mouth.

“That’s not it…” You mumble while your head’s down, not looking at his direction, “It’s just that… I’m worried about your safety, Gio. I don’t need to be a part of the mafia to know that everyone wants you dead. Not everyone, but you get my point.” You corrected, “I don’t want to accidentally put you in danger, y’know?”

For a moment, the conversation went cold. He didn’t say anything, and you didn’t look at him. But then you hear footsteps, and a hand slips onto your cheek as he cups your face. “You really have the tendency to make me work for it.” He retorted gently, “I offered myself to be your model because I know you want me. But it’s not your job to worry about me, (Y/N). I want you to finish your project first, before you decide what to do with the painting.” He smiles, “Capisce?”

Although you didn’t get cold feet, it seemed like Giorno thought otherwise. Because he holds you still when you step away, and his grip is firm on your waist.

“Alright, alright.” You compromise, “I’ll do it, okay? I’m gonna take my stuff first, so can you please let me go for a sec?”

—

The painting equipment you bring is quite heavy, but you refuse to let his man carry them for you. You’ve surveyed the ideal place for the background, and you quickly set up the easel. While you set down your brushes and color paints, you watch the men arrange a long sofa by the window. With the instruction from the Don himself.

“So you’re gonna lay down?” You asked.

“You expect me to stand for hours?”

“No, but I thought I told you to sit on a chair.”

“It wouldn’t look as good.”

You roll your eyes, “I guess beggars cannot choose.”

He grinned as he dismissed his men, “I would take my clothes off if you wish to paint nude—”

You quickly clear your throat, loud enough until it sounds very constrained. Even though his men keep a straight face, you know they heard him. You glare at him, and he just chuckles in return.

“Shall we begin? You can lay down now.” You told him as you squeezed out the paint, “Make sure everything’s comfortable enough for you.”

“I’ll be more comfortable if you lay beside me.”

“Giorno.” You called him with a frown, which only made him smirk. He doesn’t speak much as he gets on the sofa, and leans comfortably against the armrest. You pick up the medium-sized brush and dip into the green color. You glance toward him, and begin to sketch on the white canvas.

“Hold on.” He said as he unbuttoned his vest, and slid them off his shoulders. You see him throw the black garment away carelessly, before he loosen up a few buttons of his shirt.

“Dio mio, Gio.” You uttered as you put down your palette. “Can’t you at least not throw it to the floor? It’s gonna get dirty.”

“It’s gonna be laundered anyway.” He replied while he rolled his sleeves, and you just scowled as you picked it up.

“Stronzo.” You mumbled as you dusted off the vest, and went back to your place. You drape the thing onto your chair, before you pick up where you left off.

The green color quickly spreads on the canvas as you map out the scene. You use the blue to sketch out the window, and the soft yellow for the sofa. Your eyes dart to him while you paint, and you hate to admit that he made the right choice to get rid of the vest. He fits perfectly into the picture.

You wonder if you ever see him as relaxed as this before. Although you knew him close enough, he still used his refined manner around you. As you draw the black line, you wonder where his attitude goes.

The brush is quickly switched with a bigger one, and you mix some dye until it resembles the color of the wall. You paint most of the canvas with the new color, and add the shadows and light. You look out the window, and find the sky’s clear. You’re gonna need a lot of blues.

As you work on the details, your eyes inadvertently fall on him. He’s also looking at you, with his cheek resting on his palm.

“Why are you looking at me like that?”

“Like what?” He asked.

“Like that… like you’re gonna…” You pressed your lips tightly before you shook your head, “Nevermind.”

You turn your gaze away as you focus on your work. The shadows are roughly placed, and you move on to the greenery.

“You know,” He began to speak as you painted, “I’ve had my portrait done a few times before, but you’re the first one who insists on doing it in my garden.”

“Why? You missed your office already?” You sneered.

“No, but I do miss my whiskey.”

Your brows furrowed, “You don’t drink liquor.”

“I don’t drink when I’m working.”

“Huh.” You replied nonchalantly, “Of course, this is just a picnic for you."

He chuckles, “I wouldn’t consider this as a picnic, there’s no wine and cheese platter for us.”

“Us?” You narrowed your eyes, “This isn’t a date, Gio.”

“I know.” He stated, “It’s just a proposal.”

You feel your blood rushes to your face, and you turn away from him. You can’t think of anything as the reply, so you settle with silence. It didn’t surprise you when he openly flirts with you, and you usually just shrug it off. But this time, you can’t ignore him at all, not when he sounds so serious.

The window on the canvas slowly takes shapes, and provides a good background for the plants. You spend the next hour perfecting the tall foliage, without sparing another glance at him. But you don’t have to look to know that his eyes are glued on you.

As you finish the basic lines of the potted plants, you proceed to draw the long sofa. You keep your head down as you blend the faded cream color, and put them on top of the yellow.

“I think I’ll be working on the background detail now,” You announced without taking your eyes off the canvas, “You can take a break Gio, feel free if you want to leave.”

“I’ll stay.”

You bit your lip, he’s going to be a hell of distraction.

Humans can acknowledge if something’s watching them, and you curse your ancestor for passing down that ability. Even when you try to ignore it, it keeps screaming at the back of your head. Because not only does he keep his eyes on you, the intensity of his gaze also sets your alarm off.

He never looked at you like this before, right? Or have you been ignoring the signs? His friends always teased you, saying that you wouldn't be a great detective. But you're never good at reading someone's thoughts, let alone his mind. God knows what's going on inside his head.

If someone matches up the painter's apathy against the Don's preservation, it's gonna take a long time to know who's the winner. But this time, the answer seems to be clearer. And when your eyes met, you realized how terrifying his stubbornness can be.

"Gio," You mused, "Don't look at me like that…"

His lips spread into a half smile, "Like what?"

You grip your brush tightly, you don't have the courage to speak up your mind. It would be silly to ask the most feared Don about what he wants, because he has been declaring it loud and clear.

"(Y/N)." He called you softly, but as tenderly as it was, he still made your heart race, "Did I make you uncomfortable?"

"I don't know." You looked away, "I just… don't want to get the wrong idea."

His smile grew wider, until the lines around his lips became prominent, "Come here, (Y/N)." He stretches his hand toward you, "I'll let you find out."

There's no need to confirm your suspicion, because the words he just said is a confession itself. You look at him and realize that he doesn't hide his infatuation. And you know better than approaching him without thinking. Because if you do that, it can only mean you reciprocate his feelings.

But do you love him? You asked. Despite the path that he chose, and the fact that you'd be plagued by constant worry about his safety. Will you still love him? Even when you know the misfortune will follow the two of you to the end?

Yes. Yes you would.

You gently put down your palette, and wipe your hands on your handkerchief. You've been repressing your own feelings for so long, but you won't hide anymore. Once you make it to his side, he'll know that you love him. There's no turning back.

He sits on the edge of the sofa by the time you walk to his side. When you stop right in front of him, he reaches for your hand and pulls you closer.

"Won't you regret it?" You muttered while he wrapped his arms around you, "I'm just a mere painter."

"And yet,” He tugs your hands and kisses them tenderly, “You could bring me to my knees.”

You blushed when he placed another kiss on your wrist, “Giorno—”

His head perks up, and you reach out to cup his face. He doesn’t resist when you lean forward, bringing your face closer to him. For a moment, you wonder why the thought of kissing him never crossed your mind before. He looks so… inviting.

He puts his hands on your waist as you press your lips against him. You taste his hunger on your tongue, and he guides your hand to his shoulder. You utter a small squeak when he hooks his arm around you and brings you down to the sofa.

The soft cushion puffs out under the sudden weight of your body. You need a second to process what had just happened, before you see him leaning over you.

Before you had the chance to speak, he already kissed you again. You squeeze your eyes shut as you circle your arms around his neck. Having him so close to you makes you realize how many details you missed out about him. The subtle scent of his shirt, the softness of his hair, the warmth of his skin.

Maybe you’re overwhelmed by love, even adoration. But you swear when you look at him, he never looks as magnificent as he is now.

—

The chatter and the occasional clink of glass fill the room as you walk past the visitors. The exhibition is bustling with people, and the champagne flows endlessly. There’s a few acquaintances around, but you only greet them without a small talk.

Giorno promised you he’ll come, even though you’re strongly against it. You’re worried about him making an appearance in public, but he assured you it’s alright.

This might be the first time you’re feeling nervous in the exhibition. Not because of the display of your art, but rather the incoming arrival of your muse.

When you reach the section of your paintings, your tension drops as you see familiar faces. His friends are coming, and you know Giorno is safe when they’re around.

Bruno is the first to notice your presence, and he smiles as you walk closer.

“Ciao, (Y/N).” He lifts his glass of champagne, and you return the gesture.

“Ciao.” You grinned, “Glad you made it here.”

“I would never miss it, (Y/N).”

The rest of the crew greet you, as they give a short praise for your paintings. But not without commenting about the portrayal of their Don.

“What did you do to him? He doesn’t look scary at all.” Said Narancia, “I swear, he looks more terrifying than usual. I could never get used to seeing him like that.”

“That’s because he only smiles when you mess up something, Narancia.”

“I never thought I’d get to see him without his suit on. I mean, he looks like the kind of man who sleeps in two-piece.” Mista jested.

“Now you mention it,” Abbacchio chipped in, “Why did he agree to be your model?”

You shyly answer, “He’s the one who suggested it.”

“What?” Bruno stares at you wide-eyed, “He asked you to paint him?”

“Sort of.”

Abbacchio strokes his chin slowly, while keeping his eyes on you. “That explains the lack of formal clothes.” He sneered, “So, did he finally succeed?”

“Succeed on what?” You furrowed your brows.

He only sips his champagne as he looks past behind you. The others seem to do the same, and curiosity makes you turn your head.

To say that you didn't expect him to dress up to the nines for the event was half a lie. You know he loves to flaunt, but seeing him like this almost makes you drop your glass. Because not only does he catch everyone's eyes, he doesn't hide his magnetic charm at all.

"Amore." He tugs you close by your waist, and places a peck on your shoulder, then your lips. "Sorry I'm late."

"Gio." You hissed, "I told you—"

"Dio mio!" Narancia gasped as he pointed at the blond, "Did you just kiss her?"

Fugo grabs his head and pulls him away from the group, "Come on now, don't bother them."

The youngest member protested, but he couldn't get away and got dragged further. The rest of the crew just watch them leaving, before they shift their attention to you.

Mista is the first one who speaks, pointing out the obvious, "The two of you are dating?"

"Well," You instinctively rub the back of your neck, "Yeah."

Your lover leans closer to whisper to you, "You don't sound so sure."

"Sorry." You squeeze his hand. "I just don't know how to tell the news to you guys."

"But why?" Bruno's eyes crinkled as he smiles in amusement, "We've been waiting for this moment." His statement made Giorno chuckle, before he pressed a kiss on your crown.

"I miss the time when he didn't care about girls." The silver haired man groans when Bruno kicks on his ankle, "What was that for?" He grunted.

"Aren't you happy that they're finally together?" Mista playfully asked as he circled his arm around his neck, "You used to complain about them all the time."

You raise your brows, but the older man just shoves him away. Mista laughs when he receives the death glare from him.

"Now, now." Giorno spoke up at once, interrupting the early stages of their usual bickering, "If you'd excuse me, I have to go on a date with (Y/N)." He encloses your shoulders with his arm, "She promised to give me a tour around the exhibition."

Bruno gives him a small nod, "Sure," He then adds, "Have fun, you two."

You wish them a good night before Giorno drags you away almost immediately. The drink on your hand almost spilled out as you tried to follow his pace. After walking through the third of the gallery, he stops at the empty corner.

It doesn't take long before he pushes you to the closest wall, and starts kissing you like a hungry man. You voice your protests, but they only get squashed down by his lips. You don't know which, or whose paintings are being displayed beside you, but you hope you won't disturb them by accident.

The two of you finally part to catch a breath, and you just realize that two people just scurry away when they see you. A pang of embarrassment struck you as you're suddenly aware that you got caught making out with him—your own model—on the day of your works' exhibition.

"Didn't I tell you to be patient?"

You put a frown on your face when he softly chuckles. He doesn't seem to mind his manner, which effectively fuels your guilty desire further.

"I've waited for long enough." He expressed with a coy smile, "Don't you think I deserve fair compensation?"

#jjba #jojo part 5 #repost from ao3 #giorno giovanna #giorno x reader #fluff #love confessions

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yohohonabottle · 12 days ago

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The wicked sun and Orderly moon- "Twin Merlins" (Reposted from A03)

🖋️Summary: When the sun is gone, the moon dutifully watches over the land. When the sun comes- so does unprecedented chaos that the moon reigns back in order. Two entities from beyond yonder, both essentially intertwined and woven into the world's tapestry. 📖 Work status: Completed

[ ❗ ]TW: Violence (description of torture and gore) [ ❗ ] -------------- 🎧Songs recommended for this work: -> Sanctuary of Surasthana choir with cathedral effect -> Moolians - Gu-Zo-Su-Hi/Lyrical Devil plus some Danganronpa soundtracks -> Who lives, Who dies, Who tells your story ->Monodrama -> Kafka's theme -> Bequeathed to the beloved

---------------------- "Unbeknownst to the denizens of every contained world, there are countless entities looking on from afar. Like spectators, they watch them go through sorrows and triumphs akin to actors in a grand play. And beyond the rapt audience, are the ones whom brought the land into existence and wrote its intricate rules. Let's call them...'Directors', to follow along with the theater-performance analogy."

—"Hey, weren't they the ones that 'make the dynamite strings'? Why're you running us through this again?"

The campfire crackles and pops, its warm glow casting flickering shadows over the faces of the crew currently gathered. Two teams made up of various factions, some old and familiar faces while others are yet to be 'met'. Whether the personages are villains or heroes in the 'narrative' matters little here- Only their skills and respective attributes, and team role.

The first and primary team comprises of the favorites, the secondary experimental and seemingly random. The other five team members of the favorites glance over at their 'captain' as the deathly-pallid man pauses his tale-recounting, offering the disheveled sailor a light patient smile. Understanding, oddly knowing, as though he has overlooked a small but crucial detail in a rush. Along with a small note of apology, answer simple.

—"Because it's important- For the newly aware, to not be lost and afraid as they notice out of place elements. And for those who have been 'awake' for longer, to have a better understanding of what you know. And if nothing else, then it's a nice ghost story."

—"Sure, you could technically put it this way." -Berial's smooth and clear-ringing tenor calmly joins in to refute, pulling the attention to himself. The usually over-the-top babbling Hypogean wears an expression of reluctant tiredness so out of character for him, sitting cross-legged on the grass and with face slightly obscured by the brim of his top-hat.

It's like he's lost most of his energy, not in the mood for dramatics or any form of performing.

"But you know as much as us that this knowledge is, well- useless in the end. Simply knowing and understanding you two doesn't give any of us leverage, or peace." So why pull us through this? Weren't you unenthusiastic to share the secrets?

What happened?

Quietly, in the background Cassadee ponders to herself with a tome-thick notebook in her hands while the aspiring gem-magic wielder softly hums under her breath a happy calming tune, contemplative. Both had 'woken up' merely a day ago after having been kept on the shelf for months until they reached the highest hero tier and got their weapons upgraded, making them 'finally useful' for the Player. There's a sense of mild unease about the two girls from the experimental team, the distant but distinct memory of being at least a little favored clinging to their subconscious even to this day...since the very first time the 'sun' and 'moon' arrived in Esperia.

And then two days in the journey's first steps or three, that favor fell away.

On the other side of the campfire, Salazer contemplatively watches the lively dance of the flames, perfectly-curved smile missing as his mind walks through the current excerpt.

He is no stranger to the 'spectator' from beyond.

At first, he couldn't care any less in his initial assumption that the entity in question is merely some boogieman or an unruly, undisciplined peasant or slave.

Until the envelope arrived, sent by the Mystical House and he was yanked from home- Recruited. Became a unit. Then, standing face to face with the slim barrier, the cusp of the world he knows and the realm outside- Salazer found his enlightenment. His awakening, eyes opened to the much greater knowledge, despite having lacked an apt term for it. Then, in that fateful moment fleeting--The nobleman heard her voice crystal clear, neigh boom akin to that of a goddess in unassuming low-class appearance of a mortal adolescent. It was the very first time, that he was closely exposed to 'the sun', felt her emotions seep, ebb and flow through him, sent shivers down to his very bones.

That day, the Graveborn aristocrat knew true power...And gripping fear, coupled with excitement. Partially his own, partially Rila's. There was a feeling of curious glee following after him, as he took down foe after foe in battle under the Player's unwavering gaze. Favored.

And then that sensation of joy got lost, like a candle harshly blown out with no return. In its stead settled a strange coldness--Disinterest, perhaps even a hint of discontent.

What changed? Was his might not enough? Was his whip not good enough, lacked strength? Were his skills no longer adequate, up to her standards? -Such worries plagued the upperclassman for days, and still do. He's made it a point to very carefully track when the recruitment letters would be sent out, how many on the given day or night, at what hour-- And made sure to snatch at least one of them.

However the pattern is heavily inconsistent, infuriatingly so.

Sometimes the phenomenon would occur at quarter to past five o'clock in the morning, sometimes in the evening. Sometimes, at three o'clock both in the morning, afternoon and night. And some days would yield nothing at all, a long drawn-out radio silence.

It made keeping track impossible.

Furthermore, what has to be most frustrating- is that even when he does get a stroke of luck and finds himself standing at the barrier... His words fall upon deaf ears. Suddenly, all he can utter, is his one 'iconic' inquiry.

Like a parrot or a broken record. Thus the questions haunting his mind remain without answer.

It's only today, or tonight, that Rila at last chose him for one fight. One fight alone, not even for the next retries of that same stage in the spire. Yet somehow he can acutely feel her influence and emotions still, in spite of the declined contact. The only other such entity of great power, is 'Pirin'. The 'moon' dutifully overseeing him and all the other units that have woken up. ...The moon that barely lingers, making his presence scarce with chance 'meetings' such as the current one being a rarity. Despite his role as Merlin in the sun's presence.

Next to the pensive cruel nobleman, Cecia sits on her throne of thorns. Ever-hungry for more power, the Lady of Thorns was quick to understand that the Sun and Moon are beings capable of immense potential. The winning side that trumps everyone else. The former has been glimpsed of bringing entire worlds into existence in a single day, with nothing but words and a pencil on paper or with her own fingertips.

And subsequently crush those worlds in less. Twisting and bending the very reality into anything she wishes. ..For brief second a chilling feeling settles over the woman. Like words being woven together in this very moment. Is this moment, also, one of the many realities spun? Or is the reality they know being altered? Somehow the sensation melts away with the thought akin to salt dissolving in water.

As for the latter, he has only been glimpsed fleetingly to mend reality- restoring it to its initial order prior to his half's fit of mayhem and gleeful mischief, leaving it reverted seamlessly and the memories of the phenomenon wiped away from everyone's mind. The Weaver once was a witness prior to her disappearance and through the Syndicates' leader Cecia learnt about this ability.

Not even on the next day, Illucia had no recollection of the events.

To make an enemy out of either or both would be the highest folly.

"When the sun is gone, the moon dutifully watches over the land. When the sun arrives, so does unprecedented chaos that the moon reigns tightly back in order. Two beings from far beyond yonder- Intrinsically entwined and woven into the world..."

The two groups turn their attention to the shadowy mischief-maker, some inquisitive, some baffled and others wary of his soft mumble. Unperturbed, Berial keeps on shuffling the playing cards in his hands before making them vanish with leaving only one between his fingers.

A strange mix between a taro and playing card depicting a lean pearl-eyed stern man, arms folded behind his back and a young-looking dark-brown haired woman with rich purple in her curly hair. Except her left half looks like him sans the tail and feathery wings, and jester attire- eyes and mouth a hot-pink color instead of pale faded purple, mouth less jagged. The woman appears positively elated, manic one might even say. At least her 'Hypogean' half. An innocent and kindhearted face with a dark, unpredictable side lurking secretly underneath.

"Two sides of the same coin and polar opposites." Two contradictions, stitched in one outside the worlds they visit. Near constantly at each other's throat yet can't be without one another. Looking up from the card, he dismissively tosses it into the fire. The jovial performer's signature eerie grin still hasn't returned as he visibly shudders.

Still hasn't forgotten the times that freak absolutely terrorized him and the other sins relentlessly, for the sole purpose of amusement. That woman is one unpredictable little fiend- You'd think it'd be easy to play her like a fiddle with how socially inept she is and like an open book. And you'd be horribly wrong- Turns out she's got the talent of surprises. Whether the surprise is good or terrible is a major coin flip, heads- good, tails- bad. Even then it's still uncertain- The two could be reversed for all you know.

For days that thing followed right after him. Berial honestly couldn't believe it- Him, caught by strings and moved around like a puppet, then torn limb by limb and reassembled a fifty times, almost literally died due to being half totally drained of magic and energy.

Three times back to back, and tortured with unspeakable vivid visions.

Oh, yes- There was also that one time the sadistic bitch literally dissected him like a frog, leaving him gaping for a nice whole hour. Just a few highlights. Worst part is the inability to get back at her for it all, and defend against it.

All because that little terror plays by completely different rules from a different board.

Berial has never been terrified before, from anyone. Period. Not even those glowing holly shmucks. But Rila? That thing really quickly put the word into his vocabulary. Every now and then, the mere sight of a thin chord causes him to freak out and bolt to hide away like getting flash-banged. In all honesty, I'd take copying statues all the time over...that. Phraesto and Reinier had the nerve to laugh their bums off, teasing and mocking him to hell and back. Until they, too, got 'lucky'.

Poor Stinger-head sweats bullets at just hearing that demon's name and Reinier? He simply hurries to jump into the next dimension the millisecond he senses her presence nearby. His rings are still chipped as if something literally bit into them, triggering his mysophobia like crazy. Worst part is how the rings were also skewed, like folded or snapped in half.

"What's wrong, Berial? Don't you love mischief and fun? Why're you scrambling?"-She had asked in a sweetly innocent cooing sing-song voice, advancing as though about to pounce. Now, it's true that his track record really isn't savory--But what she did wasn't mischief under any form! It was pure, messed-up and cruel sadism! Chaos is one. Complete and total anarchy is a whole 'nother different thing. Which says a lot, for a messed-up evil clown like him to be saying this.

—"You better pray Rila never comes to Esperia in person. I fear no man. But that thing...It scares me."

Grave silence hangs in the air.

—"....I saw her once, in person. ..I mistakenly took her life, however she revived herself as though nothing happened. " -An elegant tenor speaks up, barely above a whisper. All eyes turn towards the camp's edge where the Stormsword stands with his head subtly bowed, turquoise eyes downcast somberly. The clown visibly flinches, gripping his tail extra tightly, casting a quick look around the clearing.

Meanwhile Sinbad steals a side-glance over at Nara, a little uncomfortable with the Graveborn girl's presence. The woman has clearly died during the final showdown against Hodgkin, and stays dead- sleeping with fishes at the bottom of the sea. Nobody went to retrieve her body or performed another resurrection on her. And...here the Water Wights' dead leader is. In the flesh. A very peculiar, unsettling paradox.

"A playable character can't die or grow out of his or her 'established' age. For recruited units, time is frozen perpetually even as the world changes." -Pirin's words echo in his mind, sending chills down his spine.

Then what happens to those like Sonja's sister? Those that died 'in the narrative' but are playable regardless? Nara has been recruited. Yet she's like a ghost, similar to the lost spirits in Viperian's lab at Ragebone Cove. Unseeing and unresponsive, kept on invisible strings.

Valen stays uncharacteristically quiet, coarse brows pinched into a light scowl.

I saw her at Traveler's Light a week ago–She looked completely normal. Didn't act unhinged either. Is something wrong with Rila? Did she get corrupted?

Or is it all one giant act for her own amusement? Has it been all along?

How many times were reality and time torn apart without a care for no reason? How many times has Pirin had to right things out? Reverse and clean up the messes in her wake?

And how can that woman be a genuinely sensible sweetheart, wiser and more mature for her age...And then turn around and be a terrifying wildcard of unapologetic, unabashed force of destruction?

Is it venting out frustrations, fears, disappointments and pent-up sky-high aggression? Like how a child would play with toys..? It doesn't add up in the least--If that's the case, why here? Why unleash all of that on Esperia and those who live in this world? Why not go to a world she has created? A moment resurfaces to the knight's mind.

During the first days of the journey, when the petite brunette had appeared in person, found him at Traveler's Light. It was a completely normal encounter- No havoc, no crazy or creepy behavior. If it weren't the odd clothes and terminology--He wouldn't have noticed. Just a very short, shy and awkward girl who means well. Looked bit like an idiot, but Valen didn't have trouble helping her get past the initial bout of inner panic. Leveled them both on the same playing-field so she doesn't feel immensely out of place- Like being an unwelcome nuisance, or as though being perfect is a must. As if trying to impress a figure of utmost high status and authority, or an employer to get the job.

By Dura, did Rila prove herself to be an interesting fella once she warmed up. Witty, friendly, funny and pretty good conversation partner. Can't forget her humor either.

Well-mannered, reserved and quite good at verbal sparring. Can't count how many times the teen's brief words of wisdom had felt like a hard slap to the face and brought him down to Esperia. Simple truths, yet somehow have been eluding him. In the span of that one afternoon casual chat, the Solitaire was left looking forward to the next time they might meet.

The image of the young-looking woman smiling with gentle understanding clashes awfully with the horrors described. It couldn't have been faked. Rila isn't even the lying type! Every time she heard or witnessed dishonesty, her face turned to a deeply disapproving frown. Reserved annoyance at times even. Quiet anger.

...So how come she's like this..? Is it a cry for help masked under embracing madness?

Sitting across from him, the 'Secondary Magister' looks around the merry patrons at the other tables with a gloomy faraway deadpan- absently tracing a finger around her tankard's bottom. After a few long minutes of silence, the woman finally speaks up in a low tone full of contemplation. Distant and detached as her chestnut-hazel eyes, cheek resting in her hand and sharp elbow propped on the table's edge. Valen only observes without interrupting, taking a swing of his drink as he listens. The late afternoon sun's light hits his companion's face in such a way, that it makes her eyes seem forest green.

—"It's an ugly place- Back home. The people majorly being snide easily-offended cockroaches, time rushing too fast, deputies and governments that don't give a single rat's ass about the people and... bloody wars being waged left and right, for no reason.. No good one, anyway. It's either out of greed for resources and influence or power, throwin' their weight around. Or just plain dumb pettiness. None of 'em give a damn for peace or the countless innocent lives that ultimately pay the price. As always. It's only going to shit with each year. "

Her gaze idly sweeps over the people's faces, watching the waitress dart to and fro with peppy grace in her step and a sunny grin on her face as she serves the customers.

"...As soulless as it may sound, cowardly even maybe--I've no intentions of helping the world. I only care to survive through that disgustingly horrid circus and mind my own business. I know I'm no next revolutionary- Too risky & dangerous. And I'm not 'crazy' enough--I'd rather keep my head." A wry soft smile of self-deprecation curls itself onto her rosy lips as she glances down at the apple juice in her mug and lightly swirls it.

"Guess I got no right to whine with this in mind, huh?" Lightly drumming his fingers in thought on the table, Valen says nothing back.

It's not like Esperia doesn't have the same, or strikingly similar rotten underbelly. Nor is this world any more forgiving than 'that wretchedly terrible circus'. Even though it may appear so at a glance on the surface, to a 'tourist'. But...at least it's more peaceful, in a way, as in the lack of constant wars going on at all sides. Sure there are militaristic efforts, and all the atrocities that come with war, however it's not nearly as frequent. For now, can't say for the future-The world is always changing after all.

Looking into Rila's eyes- his heart twists. There's no spark of life in them. No joy-- And she's hardly near her thirties or forties still. A look he has seen- sees- in the gazes of his colleagues. Except this one is more sad to gaze at.

It's the look of someone who has lost all faith in humanity long ago and very barely gets it back at all.

—"Yes, and no." -The Heroic Order knight mutters pensively, earning himself a puzzled look. In truth, the topic is very messily complicated. There's no easy answer.

—"It's understandable for you to prefer to stay out of conflicts. And you make a fair point- Not everyone is brave enough to throw away everything for change on a large scale, withstand and push back against the onslaught of ruthless backlash they'd inevitably face from the top."

Dura above knows how much he and Fay have struggled--Kids of no remarkable name, too poor to afford anything more than sighing over the toys and goods displayed on store windows, fighting tooth and nail on the daily while mom & dad work to exhaustion and count every copper when time comes to pay taxes. Just very narrowly toeing the line between middle-class and slum-poor.

How many times they'd been bullied by their peers and the rich kids? And then the dream of becoming a knight ignited in little Valen's heart- To rise high to the top, as high as possible, to protect and support his family. Be able to protect many others as well, so they may not suffer the same, in its full brunt.

At the time, joining the army was the best option he had on hand with his lack of academic education- Not totally illiterate. But definitely not on-par for much more prestigious jobs like the law, economy or teaching and medical and scholarly field. A smooth silver tongue can only get you so far. When the certificate matters most and bribery is not an option, simply because you don't have the money.

So young Valen took up to swinging his wooden sword, honing his swordplay and fighting skills, became a mercenary. While sweet, optimistic sister Fay took to singing and dancing, gems and magic, and smooshed them all into one. Went around adventurer and scholars' camps- Until she decided to enroll in the Serene Lyceum to further pursue the art of magic. Sold all the exquisite gems and crystals she has found by accident, courtesy of her innate keen intuition when it comes to finding treasures, including gems and geodes. And here they both stand now, all nicely grown up- Him as a knight at the helm of the Solitaires of the secretive Heroic Order, and Fay as a successful adventurer invaluable to any scholars she joins and current apprentice of the greatest mage alive.

However not everyone in the position their younger selves were is as 'crazy' to take a wild leap of faith as they did.

"On the other hand, only voicing your discontent with matters constantly doesn't do anyone favors. Same as pity parties. You seem to know this well enough."

Waving his memories aside like the wind tenderly sweeps through wheat-fields, the elite solder gives a brief moment of quiet to give his answer some thought. Looking up at the fairer-skinned young lady eying him curiously from around the notepad she holds with a pencil in-hand, he offers a reassuring smile and a few cents of his own simple wisdom. A light to help nudge into a clearer direction, hopefully.

"How about a 'compromise'? You're pretty good at drawing and writing, from what snippets you showed me of that painting you had started some days ago and that excerpt you red me today." Still bemused, not quite catching onto his drift. "Why don't you share them- Your art, your stories? It's not much, but it could be helpful to make the 'circus' a little less grim." Doubt sprawls on Rila's rounded oval face, bushy brows pinched together.

—"...How're those silly ramblings and amateur drawings going to help anyone? They won't stop the wars or right the atrocities, abuse and injustice. Certainly won't make me or anyone rich and big...Not that I actually want fame or overwhelming wealth- I've seen what those do. Disastrous things. I'm happy with my simple, humble life." She glances down at her notepad, a tiny edge of bitter scorn in her irises.

"Point is, my nonsense won't help anyone." A claim that Valen calmly refutes with an easy-going smirk on his scarred face and a pinch of theatric goofy bravado as he wags a finger.

—"On the contrary. I'd argue that making your readers' day- or evening- a tiny less dreary is a lot of help. To inspire and invigorate, give them hope- Is the best form of aid you can offer. You, and all the others like you, make that world a little better."

And hope is the second most valuable, important thing to have next to being in good health. No attempt at retorting follow, so the playboy goes on to bring this topic to a neat closure with a final pearl of wisdom.

"Give yourself more credit and keep being hopeful. Don't be afraid of taking a leap of faith here and there." Without being needlessly reckless.

The memory fades to the soft crackling of campfire, the people having declined in numbers--Only Soren, Fay, Mirael ,Cassadee and Nara remain by the fire. A small hand rests on his shoulder and a pair of faded dark purple eyes look at him worriedly, Fay's canary-like voice tugging the Solitaire's busy mind. Looking up from the flickering fire, he glances around the camp, taking notice of the many missing people with surprise.

—"Where is everyone?"

—"Pirin told us more essential information about the Players and our 'role' and then the second team left." -His sister answers with an optimistic smile that feels a little strained. Overwhelmed and unsure of how to feel about all the newly gained 'cosmic' knowledge of the Truth. Her optimism struggling to keep her unwaveringly high, hopeful spirit from cracking under the weight. Just as he had fought to keep his own sanity together and stay out of the desperation upon first learning.

Esperia, the world they've always known, their whole lives and those of everyone else--Insignificant, borne into existence by the 'Directors' with countless complex lines of code, lore and pixels for the sole purpose of entertainment. Nothing, but mere collectables with pre-determined fate from start to the very end, and when their time is up as the servers inevitably get closed one day....

What then?

None of the struggle matters in the end. It's all just a silly mobile gacha game.

...At least there are audience members who keep each of their flame, tells their story. Is this enough?

Still, it hurts insurmountably. It's surprisingly easy to cover it up, act like nothing happened in front of the Players. Pretend nothing has changed.

—"How many versions are there of us?" -A haggard, tired Solitaire inquires in a strained quiet, broken voice as the new knowledge seeps into his very bones under the Overseer's warily watchful eye. Looking at the rifts in reality and time, at the abyss staring back coldly, listlessly, with words and numbers, and symbols he'd never understand for the life of him...with terror and helpless wounded anger and confusion. The crushing weight of the cosmic secret pressing onto his shoulders like a mountain and threatening to break him, mind grappling with the truth glaring him in the face and desperate denial. While clutching onto the lifeline the frail night nymph has given him, extending magic and song to soothe his slipping sanity. —"As many as the Players out there. Some never make it to high tier, some cases all reach highest stage shortly, and some stay unaware while others wake sooner or later. Some are favored above all others, depends on each player. All that ignoring the players who 'reroll' and how many times they do." The moon explained calmly in a somber tone while righting out the cataclysm caused by Rila's gleeful rampage of frustration. Valen silently watched his former charge mend the timelines to order, stitching up the fabric of reality to its natural order as per intended by the narrative. And wipe away the memories of the 'slumbering' people whom bore unfortunate witness.

—"And Vanya? Where did he go?" Valen loops an arm around Fay's shoulders, pulling his sibling into a tight reassuring hug. 'It's okay. It'll be okay.' In a macabre sense, it's comforting to know Fay has become aware instead of remaining as just a cardboard pawn. The thought of having to watch the geomancer loop through the same dialog-lines like an empty shell, a husk of herself--The older brother hurries to shut down that line of thought.

Bearing the Truth is enough.

Hugging back and fighting to keep smiling, Merlin's student goes on to elaborate, seeing as how Cassadee is too busy sorting the information in her mind.

—"Sinbad pulled him aside to let us have a breather from the new information, suggesting to call it a night. They should be little ways closer to the ruins in the Haunted forest."

"....Valen? ...I'm scared." The cheer is gone, a small quiver to her voice. Fighting back a sob.

The roving swordsman hugs his younger sister tighter, murmuring hushed words of comfort as he rubs soothing circles on her back. And prays she makes it out through the stages of waking, knowing it's inevitable. Even if Rila doesn't pick her or the others very often, the spike in power is evident. (right..?) The biggest hurdles are steadily trickling in, the rise steep.

Meanwhile, seated on the other log 'round the fire next to Cassadee, Mirael quietly mulls over the Truth's ramifications and the appearance of the two 'Merlins', as her fellow mage has dubbed them in her studious notes. Two sides of the same coin, like the purple-haired twins of Eternity from another world Pirin sometimes has told brief stories about when prompted about his time as that land's 'moon'. One of the twins was dreamy and kind, the aspect of dreams and change while the other was stern and unyielding with reinforcing order... that would then morph into the pursuit of eternity after the first goddess perished. On rare occasions, some of Teyvat's people have allegedly joked that him and Rila are the less tragic Ei & Makoto. ...In any case, this is quite the predicament.

On one had, Merlin is still alive and active as he follows his own role--However it often appears that Rila takes full control of his body akin to a ghostly possession. Not that the Magister has tried to resist or fight back, relinquishing control easily.

Or is it possible that's the case...because my Magister can't fight back or pose any form of resistance to this? The thought sends cold chills down the Scarlet enchantress' spine.

The string of sinister thoughts edging to delve deeper as follow up spiral are equally as unsettling- No. Terrifying. Concepts that Mirael firmly refuses to face, even less dares to glance at for a second. The implications are even more so. She hurries to burn, chase those thoughts away. --Yet they still quietly persist, looming ominously at the very edge of her mind. --On the other hand, without 'the sun'- Time may go on but nothing changes in terms of progression...and when she leaves, it comes to a stand-still altogether.

The whole time Pirin talked, spinning the great cosmic secret into a whimsical fairy-tale like legend, the Magister's apprentice had been hastily taking notes to document it all in full detail. Along with in-depth analysis notes on the duo's abilities and nature. Poor girl's quill moved so fast across the page, that it looked as though it would catch ablaze.

—"If my observations are right-Then 'Rila' is a catalyst, ensuring the events unfold accordingly. Moreover, once she arrives in a world- Her presence gets intertwined into it, altering it unintentionally. I suspect the descent of each catalyst- Player- creates a nexus point or several nexus nodes. One is where the world remains the same as it was prior to their arrival, with the other being the current 'new' order." The Scarlet witch looks down at the tome overflowing with scribbled notes as her fellow mage mumbles under her breath, reading over the text for mistakes.

It's worth asking him on the matter..Although he'd likely choose to not reopen this topic for a while.

Casting a glance over her shoulder at the tree-line of the foggy forest, Mirael looks back at Cassadee's study. The option to forget the Truth is on the table for anyone of them who no longer wishes to know, a form of falling asleep once more and loosing awareness or a transitory moment of blissful ignorance. The case being the latter for the Sun's three most favored.

—"Every 'actor' that becomes aware of the spectators and directors' gaze has 'woken up' and has two routes in that point. Either his, or her, mind fails to comprehend what is happening and what he-she is faced with and breaks into madness...Or undergoes a process of change which ends in accepting the overwhelming meta-knowledge. In a way, this could be viewed as a symbolic death and metamorphosis from how he, she used to be- To a newer self. Ideally, none of the 'actors' in the 'play' should wake up at all to begin with for the reasons I mentioned." —"What happens to those who fail to transition? Is it possible for that person to recover on his or her own?" -The white-haired mage inquires as she raises a hand to catch the Overseer's eye, hurrying to flip onto a blank page. The two groups' attention turns to her then back to the felled star. A deeply contemplative scowl curls onto the 'magister's' lips with a grim look in his pearlescent eyes as he takes a moment to sift through his memories and speaks carefully. Still continuing to chew on her question mentally in the meantime. —"I haven't seen or heard of such cases, nor have I allowed it to happen. Maybe it's possible, however I strongly believe the odds are rather low. It's why I make sure to keep a close eye on those that wake up when it first occurs, in order to help lead them onto the metamorphosis route. ...And, hopefully, make it as smooth as possible." —"I see...And what happens if they fall into insanity?" —"Then they become a shattered husk of their former selves, grasping for anything that can anchor them in desperation." A flicker of sorrowful fear flashes in the man's irises as he utters this in a shushed tone.

—"I can't help but feel bad for him. Having to reverse the damage his 'half' causes carefreely and watch over us while shouldering the Magister's journey and legacy." Merlin's former student carefully reaches out a hand and flips back to the pages detailing the two entities that have impacted Esperia so vastly. "Mirael?" Two sides of the same coin, and polar opposites..

(1) 'Connected how? Same entity??' Is it possible for Pirin to be a close reflection of Rila? (2) 'Rila doesn't suffer any damage when Pirin gets wounded/perish. In reverse he experiences the same injuries and emotions as when she sustains damage.' (3) 'It appears that Pirin exhibits traits of both an 'actor' and a 'player' at the same time.' Referencing the stories he has shared of worlds other than Esperia, he is capable of traversing and setting down in various different universes, along with influencing other characters and reality*-- similar to how some 'players' are able to. Curiously, he seems to be limited strictly within the 'fictitious' spaces along with lacking control over his own fate both past and future akin to a 'character' or 'actor' in a 'narrative'. Therefore I believe it's safe to assume that Rila (his 'half') has the role of 'Director' in relation to him. (Note: Ref- point 8) Similarly to a Player/Director, it appears he cannot be truly killed. According to one of Valen's eye-witness accounts, Pirin had gotten into a fight with Berial, the Hypogean killing him however the 'magister' self-resurrected and proceeded to strike back in retaliation. The sinister jester was dismayed by this turn of events and disengaged, fled the scene at the sight of Pirin's threads as soon he was set free of them. * Note: Some players can be also 'Directors'. I accidentally seem to have connected to Rila in one of my dreams shortly prior to becoming aware. The words she told me still puzzle me. "You're not under my jurisdiction." -Likely referring to the characters in her own universes. From this excerpt, I confidently conclude that since Pirin shares her abilities and roles (partially), he has lesser influence on us due to not being our 'Director', limited to memory/mind manipulation and/or mild puppeteering. However Rila has slightly stronger presence. (4) 'Pirin and Rila seem to share memories, knowledge and emotions (to a degree), leading me to believe they share a consciousness at a core level. Possibly linked together?' (?*)(5) Can Players have manifestations of themselves within the worlds they visit? It appears so. (The 'sun' & 'moon' being prime case example if my suspicions prove correct.) (6) It appears that time beyond Esperia flows much slower, with our day-night cycle passing nearly in the blink of an eye for the Players.. Furthermore, according to Pirin- The Player and Directors' realm lacks the magic and creatures outside of the regular animals. Yet in juxtaposition their technology, equipment and scholarly fields are highly advanced compared to ours, achieving a near 'magic-like' effect in complexity, potential and efficiency. I attempted to ask for more information however the Overseer refused to speak further on the matter. Very fascinating... (7) Actors are unable to truly harm and kill a Player (Catalyst) and a Director (World creator). (8) More observations and references are needed. Unfortunately 'Pirin' is highly unwilling to open up the topic and divulge more regarding the 'Truth' and its other aspects beyond the very essentials; Rila is missing most of the time, with her personal appearances on our world being sporadic and very brief. Currently I only have Valen, Eironn and Berial's account. (Sinbad and Soren refuse to broach the topic- How they came to wake up, their metamorphosis, emotions, what has changed, etc. I suspect they followed the general pattern that the three accounts point to.)

Snapping out of her own musings, the witch looks up, meeting Cassadee's inquisitively uncertain and worried blue eyes. Questioning.

—"Sorry- I got distracted for a moment, Cassadee. Did you ask me something?"

—"No, no- It's okay. I was just thinking to myself."

Meanwhile, Soren still remains perfectly silent--standing next to the log his three other teammates sat earlier. Arms crossed over his broad chest and head bowed slightly, his fringe falls to cover up his eyes as he stares into the flickering embers distantly. The fire's warmth does little to shoo away the nagging dread chilling him to his very bones as it slowly creeps. If the worst suspicions come true--Then it wouldn't matter whether Alsa has been recruited long ago after she became playable little ways before his turn came up. She'd still inescapably loose all awareness, fail to make it through the awakening and undergo that change...fall asleep.

The same fate that would catch Fay, Mirael, Cassadee and Mikola. As it would befall Salazer, Eironn, Bryon and many others not favored by Rila highly enough to interact with them frequently. Would they become like Nara, same state without being dead?

"I'll preface with this regarding the 'actors' in the narrative as it's essential: Right off the get-go everyone automatically has a default 'asleep' state- Or not available for recruitment by the players, 'playable' that cannot wake up long after having been recruited. This is for the Directors, a copy that stays fixed in the narrative. While when you go on to become playable, the chance of becoming aware presents itself as a possibility. Or you can remain asleep like the copy. This, however, is not in your hands unfortunately--The players inadvertently call the shots."

The warrior's lips press to a thin line, hands balling into fists as his ears droop. The memory of his own waking still blazes in his mind's eye as vivid as if it was today.

It was a day after having won in the Warsong Festival and gone out to journey through the Ashen Wastes on their way to Alkali. That day, the fragile-looking blood-sucker had looked up at him with a look of pained sadness and anxious dread. Scared for him, for his well-being as though he stood on the precipice of gravely immense danger. However didn't say anything, preferring to stay quiet.

Or was actually thinking of how to breach the subject and ease him into those murky quicksand depths as gently as he can. Spin, weave a tight net strong enough to keep him aloft from falling in. And Soren himself was relatively content to let him be, not being one for fussing over or needless chatter himself...

That was, until he just couldn't take the heavy silence of melancholy and its oppressive suspense causing all kinds of horrible scenarios to spawn in his head. Maybe Pirin has had a bad vision last night, a prophetic dream about the children, warning of their demise or getting severely hurt? Maybe something's about to go wrong back home with Alsa? Or something bad is going to befall the two of them during the trek? The faintly mumbled 'I don't have a good feeling.' that the magister gave him upon finally being prompted only confirmed Soren's worries.

And then a strange new sensation crept on him-- A resurgence in power, in strength that's not normal. As a purple ray enveloped his form, the sensation grew and grew. What the ursine son of the desert assumed to be the Dusk Lord's blessing flaring up from within him, turned out to be something else entirely and separate.

All fatigue, needs, evaporated along with the possibility of ever dying one day--Be it of old age or other ways. Immortal.

Somehow, in that second--Soren distinctly knew that the chance of ever aging at all beyond his current years has been ripped away from him. Never to be given back.

The world would keep going on and change, and he'd stay at teen age for all eternity. Even as the years still take their toll on his mind. And then the 'Truth' coldly stared him in the face like the blackhole it is, resulting in a flurry of questions from him, each meeting its reluctant answer.

The last one was a hard kick to the gut, the full merciless, cold, brunt of the secret the night jinni has been so adamantly coveting to himself. For all their sakes.

—"What are you rattling about?! How're we not real?? How're our lives- WHAT??" -He had ranted and lashed out in total denial, disbelief, pacing back and forth around their campfire for the night. Suddenly, Pirin's voice was grating to his ears and he couldn't stand him, the desert, everything- Overwhelmed, furious and terrified.

Lost.

A soft voice calls his name gently, an attempt to calm him down from his spiraling panic. Pirin had tried to carefully reel him back.

—"Soren.." It didn't work. It only made his mind latch on harder, denial and shock fighting over. Fur bristled and ears flattened back, pupils narrowed to slits in sheer wounded rage as he sharply comes to a stop, snapping, yells. Wanted to scream at the top of his lungs, a thunderous war cry until he has no breath left, angrily waving his hands around in frantic and enraged gesturing.

—"No! No way! You can't just- What about my clan? What about Pops?? Was all that just a lie all along!?"

"..."

The mournful silence only stoked his rage--grief and confusion. Terror. Helplessness.

Heaving and staring at the other man, with quick stomping strides--Soren reaches his friend in no time. Standing at his full, imposing height- he grabs the 'magister' by the shoulders with a bruising rough grip. His knuckles had turned white, whole form shaking as everything gets to a boiling point too much to bear. ...So the warrior of the newly infamous clan lets it out, bellows with all his might. A howl for help of a lost, scared man unable to hold it together and stay stoic and quiet. Boys--Men--Don't cry. Crying is for women, babies, helpless and the weaklings. He's neither of those. Should've grit his teeth harder, dealt with it on his own- Should've been strong, stayed strong. Should've persevered through this and won. So Soren roared, gave his best, most ferocious war cry. Hot, bitter tears had welled at the corners of his eyes. The former Grimmaw child was too caught up in his rage to notice and blink them back or wipe them away. They roll down his cheeks and chin as his voice cracks.

—"ANSWER ME!"

"...I'm sorry."

...And Soren, eldest orphan of the Uru clan, former son of the late Grimmaw clan's chieftain, crumbled to smithereens. Crushed under the burden's weight too heavy for his shoulders to bear.

That night, Soren wept like a weak, pathetic, helpless pansy. Like the terrified and lost little boy he felt, held in the vampire's arms. Throughout it all, 'Merlin' patiently stayed quiet, letting him cry, and he clung onto the shorter pallid man desperately in his sobbing. Eventually he had no more tears to shed, drained. Listlessly listened to all the tender comforting nothings the felled star murmured faintly.

In the end, each and every one of them had to pull it together and shake off the pain that the Truth brings. Oddly enough, there are some who deliberately try to actively put themselves into the sun's grasp and wake up.

—"I find it rather fascinating and mystifying." One of the half-bearfolk man's ear twitches twice, tuning into Cassadee's continued muttering. "From what has been observed and described of their behaviors, the two entities appear to have assumed distinct roles outside of their respective baseline. Namely, of 'child' and 'adult'--Ioan or 'Pirin' is the evident adult of the duo with the typical traits of that stage. Maturity on both emotional and intellectual level, behavioral basis, responsibility, nurture and guidance, empathy, understanding. Think of a parent or older sibling. 'Rila' in contrast lacks awareness- Innocent, curious, possesses the heartless cruelty present due to lacking understanding of importance, among other traits of childhood."

The Uru warrior and purple-eyed Solitaire exchange a look, mildly dubious.

—"What puzzles me is the line that Berial said at the beginning: "Two sides of the same coin." I'm inclined to interpret his words at face-value as both seem to be the same entity."

—"That's all fine and dandy, except for the fact that Rila clearly knows what she's doing." The two mages look up at Soren. "I've seen her appear in the desert and go on a rampage, just 'cause she got bored. She knew people would loose their minds when telling them of what we know. Knew it damn well and didn't care, still kept going."

The incident still itches at his mind. The only solution to the crisis was to rush to find Pirin and ask him for help. Ask him to fix the umpteenth catastrophic mess his demonic 'half' is wreaking onto the Ashen Wastes. Because that fiend is far too dangerous to charge at on his own and the chances of getting swept up are high.

A look of apprehension if not dread settles onto Merlin's former students. Valen and Fay stiffen.

—"..W-why..? Why would Rila do something like this?" -It's the colorful dancer's voice that breaks the tense quiet. Still trying to assume the best and give the better of the doubt. —"Because it's 'fun' to watch their reactions and if or how insane they'd go. Her words. Those people are simply playthings for her, like we are." Ignoring how that thing also made literal jaws rise from the ground to eat some of the Maulers and Lightbearers while terrorizing them, laughing maniacally with zero remorse or guilt. Jaws with gnarly teeth, hands. Surprisingly nobody died...physically. Internally? A lot.

It's the whole point as to why the decision was made to convince Merlin of freeing Phraesto and teaming up with plus the other two Hypogeans. Since that day, the Illusionist often acts as a lookout--Warning against that menace the second he spots or senses her presence in the desert. ..And then proceeds to nope out, jump right back into the Dusk Lord's tomb to avoid getting his scorpion hair seriously tangled into a tizzy like last time. Along with having his eyes gauged out in the most sadistic way possible and messed up 'til he can't see straight.

Whatever mind torture Rila did to that Hypogean must've been something else to make him that scared.

Same as Berial--The mouthy lil brat acts as an alarm system and lookout for Holistone and Rustport. In short, for the Lightbearers. And Reinier covers the Wilders' turf. Lookouts and decoys to keep that terror busy while one of the team members goes to fetch 'Merlin'.

Not fool-proof but works, for now.

Although it was a bit funny how the Seaside savant went about the issue that time Rila popped up in his hometown--Already in her dragon, shadowy Hypogean creepy form, ready to cause mayhem. The man had just sighed in exasperation, got a broom since he had one on-hand, and shooed off the thing, like it's a typical Monday. Completely unbothered. A reckless idea. Thankfully, he lived.

Regular day in ye old Rustport, the intel-broker having been assigned by his employer to sweep one of the warehouses of the Carmine Whispers. (With the promise to be paid fairly, of course.) So there Sinbad was, minding his business with sturdy old broom in hand, whistling a happy little tune to himself--Until the distinct sense of deja vu struck. Pausing in his diligent work to investigate, a pair of nice, glowy hot-pink orbs stared right back at him. With utmost curious, diabolical glee.

A particular little 'rat' that has been skittering around town lately and stirring up troubles, almost flipping Rustport on its head...literally. Yup, there the shady lizard is, sitting in the corner with a huge grin and ogling shamelessly. This is the fifteenth time this week, the wretched terror making at least five back-to-back visits each day--Popping in and out not unlike Berial. Except this one doesn't warn at all. That jester at least makes a noise to announce his presence.

Sure enough, the pesky menace is already doing her creepy nonsense--Jaws wide open, teeth growing and twisting, falling out with lil' tissue and blood in the cracks on 'em, eyeballs expanding and shrinking, rolling in their sockets sloowly then fast. The whole horror movie nine yards. Those kinds of shenanigans would've freaked out anyone else, however he wasn't buying it. It's been done soo many times by now, that he's gotten desensitized. Or maybe has gone off the deep end himself somewhere along the way. With a tired sigh, already so done with this bullshit-- The blond sailor steps towards the stupid 'rat' calmly, gesturing for it to go away with his free hand .

—"Alright, get lost. C'on, shoo." The grinning devil crawls up the wall, head turned three hundred-sixty degrees and lolling as it does. Like a centipede or cockroach. Naturally, he tries to swat at it with the broom to get it down. Maybe kill the troublesome fiend, if he swings hard enough. Outer being or not, that little brat has no business in the warehouse or in town.

"There's nothing for you here, get lost. Get." Unfortunately Rila moved too fast and scuttled right up to the ceiling. Drooling.

Some of that disgusting slime falls on his scarf, the same one that his foster mothers had gifted him on his coming of age ceremony. Glancing down at it, the orphan frowns as he attempts to wipe the sludge off but to no avail. (Oh great, just great.) Looking back up, just in time to see another drop of drool fall and step aside, holding the broom like a weapon. "Don't jump on my head."

And then the thing crawls across the ceiling, scuttling over to the window and outside to jump on someone else's apparently. Already whispering incessantly the great cosmic secrets and cackling. Realizing that hell's about to break loose--Again-- with full Armageddon, he drops the broom and hurries out the door to (hopefully) find that lizard and cut her off before rifts the size of blackholes start appearing all over the place.

A scream of terror echoes.

Too late.

(Should've thought this through better. Note to self: Trap the devil next time. (Or at least try.) )

Another scream, another rift. The weather was starting to act funny. Things were getting downhill fast and soon someone might even die.

—"Sinbad!" (-And a very peeved Sonja would bite my head off, it seems.) There the curly-haired mafia woman is with Lucca at her side and a bunch of Whispers, already at the scene right as he arrives at the elevator. Another rift tears itself dangerously close to them. In front of them, the endless maddening whispering skittering about it and all the other rifts ripped into reality's fabric.

All across their humble crime-ruled spot of the world. It's like Rila's everywhere at once. Judging by the confused, mildly unsettled looks that flash in the gang's eyes, the chatter is beginning to take its toll. "Don't look or listen to those! Go back inside, too dangerous!" Assuming (hoping and praying) that the blasted devil hasn't left some nice rifts in the manor as well.

"Retreat!" --The scarred rouge calls over his shoulder to them without looking back as he continues to rush, finding Pirin being top priority. The only one who can put a stop to this and fix it. Miraculously, it didn't take long- the faux Magister hanging by the docks of the lower residential district.

—"Devil's back. Help." -He chokes out between catching his breath, struggling not to panic as seconds tick by with the damage getting more devastating. Doesn't need to see Pirin's face to know the man's frowning tiredly in annoyance at his 'half' and her antics. The star's eerily quiet tenor is flat, stern. Gracefully uncrosses his legs and gets up to his feet, turning to walk towards him. A simple question. A gesture for him to slow down and breathe.

—"Where." —"Upper district. Moved from there to the docks or plaza." Targeting crowded places.

In a blink Pirin vanishes and Sinbad races right over there after him, hoping to be of help. Somehow. Arrives right on time to see Rila get mercilessly shot down with sharp needle-like blades made of crystalline flames, connected by thin silk-like threads of that magic that wrap around the dragon's thrashing form. Held to the ground, jaws clamped shut by the threads.

No negotiations, no patient gentleness or attempt at reason like the several times before. Straight to tracking, hunting down and kicking her out. Seizing the trouble-maker by the scruff, Pirin drags the caught being towards the newly ripped rift as it gets morphed into a portal- And throws her into it, closing the rift.

Footsteps and easy-flowing banter draw the small group's attention to the tree-line of the veiled Haunted forest to see the two love-birds returning. The lively savvy swindler sauntering by his partner's side calmly, having already left the topic alone and moved on to less serious matters. The fallen star on the other hand seems to be still thinking something over, likely ironing out some of its kinks out and finalizing it in his mind. A plan.

For the hundredth time, Valen's heart skips at the sight of his former charge and a spike of bitter jealousy--Envying that rascal's mad luck. It gets followed up by a pang of inquisitive buzz of excitement and nervousness as the hare-brained idea that has been secretly brewing in the back of his mind, crawls back.

I really am an avaricious brat, aren't I?

Not sure if either one or both would be interested... But it is worth putting out on the table.

—"Hookay. I'll keep this nice and short: I got a hoodwink to help with the 'Devil' problem." Instantly the goofy idea falls to the far backburner, the knight's attention fully directed at the incarnated wandering spirit along with everyone else around the fire.

Funny how they all look like kids in class, ears sharp when listening to the cool and/or favorite teacher. Or meerkats on the lookout.

"Upsides- You get a part of my magic to keep plus abilities, and a way to counter the menace on your own. Drawbacks? This plan is in testing and I'll need to work very closely with you to see if and what needs to be ironed out. I.e, more frequent meetings and having to recall how your attempts went in detail plus how you are being affected. No skipping." Mirael smiles as the two younger mages' eyes light up at the prospect, same as Sinbad's. Soren stays quiet, mulling the offer and weighing it carefully while Valen looks one step away from casually accepting it. Sure it will be more work and business meetings, but how can he possibly complain when it's Pirin?

—"I volunteer to be Holistone's representative." -He declares confidently with a raise of his hand, giving Fay a cheeky smirk as the geomancer calls 'Veto!' shortly after, pouting at having been beaten to the chance. Meanwhile the Scarlet witch doesn't appear fussed with missing out on the opportunity, content to observe as the two siblings squabble a bit.

—"Valen! I could improve my gem magic with his guidance!" -An unhappy Hail moon star whines, earning herself a playful retort from her older brother which makes her huff. This is a once-in a lifetime chance! Merlin is powerful, without a doubt- But it's apparent that Pirin has a lot more to offer in terms of magic, guidance, knowledge and wisdom due to being a long-lived spirit that has experienced plenty! (Barring the four other lifetimes of his or the other worlds he has visited.)

—"Sorry, Fay- Early bird gets the worm~! Besides, you're already busy studying under the Magister." In all seriousness, both of them know that the woman will find plenty of other opportunities. Still doesn't stop her from pouting though. "Still not fair..." The elite knight sticks his tongue out childishly with a smile and she does the same with a scowl of feigned frustration. Then they laugh at the silliness.

The Empire is quite the territory to cover.

—"I volunteer to represent the capitol!" -Cassadee's quiet, soft-spoken voice rings out next without hesitation, seizing the unique chance like a dark horse. The volunteer for the coastal side is obvious. Which leaves the desert areas and the Wilders' territories alongside Remnant Peak.. Pirin silently observes, not fully surprised people are jumping to accept the plan. And then Merlin's apprentice chimes in, catching the present off-guard, her choice of territory even more so. Soren's ears perk up and twitch twice, visible bafflement and surprise on his face at the proclamation.

—"I volunteer for the Eroded Enclaves!" There's a bright grin on Fay's oval visage, and a gleam of fierce determined competition. Refusing to give up. Almost as though the two mages are having a competition. Makes the brunette's main motive for this endeavor curious..Sure, her desire to get better at gem magic and prove a point is there, absolutely. However there's an odd sense that there's bit more than that to her resolve, maybe trying to impress someone with how well she mastered her 'feeble', blooming magic..

A gleam of surprise, concern but also pride and inquisitiveness flickers in the white-haired scholar's sky-blue gaze as she glances at her. And then gets tiny bit shy and looks back to the 'dutiful moon'.

Her brother gives her a mildly concerned look, knowing how unforgiving the desert is. It took him a good half a year to adjust while traveling with the 'Magister' and the Uru siblings, during the Song of Strife escapades. Even then, he had just barely started getting used to the climate.

—"Are you sure?" The answer was immediate and resolute. —"Yes."

—"I'll cover the Ashen Wastes." -Soren's baritone voice slides in next flatly, finally making up his mind. Pirin gives a clipped nod, turning his eyes to the only person whom hasn't spoken up.

—"Mirael? Your thoughts?"

The former Lyceum pioneer student waves the offer off with a simple smile, not interested in taking part. It's fine to sit back and watch from sideline, lend a helping hand here and there. There's enough work of watching over Ryeham and burning down hypofiends, driving them away anyway. Plus taking care of Merlin so the notorious Arch-mage doesn't do something too reckless or overwork himself. The little hamsters aren't enough, busy with maintaining the Mystical House and keeping it pristine, alongside with caring for the Giga with Dolly.

—"Thank you, but I'll pass. I'm helping my dear Magister at the House. However I can pass him a message, if you wish?"

—"Yes, please do. Let Merlin know I'll need the Hall of Resonance for the meetings....Also, a friendly reminder to go outside for a few minutes now and then. Thanks, Mirae." At this, Mirael offers back a nod in acknowledgement paired with a muted chuckle at the last quip. Certainly will be sure to pass on the message. Rising from the log and lowering the campfire's intensity, the curvaceous lady gives a playful salute... And with that, the red-head graciously leaves the clearing. Soon enough the desert tribe's secondary chief also takes his leave to find the nearest waystone and teleport home. Probably has sensed the 'odd' jittery tension that hangs around his knightly teammate and didn't want to have to deal with the awkward situation pending. Which leaves just the captain and the two lovebirds by the dimming fire. And if he doesn't act fast, it'll be only him by himself.

Sitting on the log by the fire and staring into the embers, twiddling his thumbs absently, the dazzling player keeps oddly quiet for a few seconds, lost in thought. Is this really a good idea? Maybe leaving the two alone would be better...Glancing up from around his fringe at the duo as they walk past him, the high-ranking solder feels his confidence dim slightly, watching them banter easily. Not quite listening to what they're exchanging, but the tone is chipper, playful and breezy with a few jokes and friendly-fire quips sprinkled.

Plus a lovey-dovey flirtatious subtext to the mock 'bickering' and the sweet affectionate lilt underneath it all. Basically what some might call 'a married old couple'.

And here he is-- Possibly 'bout to butt in like some annoying third wheel. Most likely. What's worse is that Pirin, the poor sweetheart he is, would feel bad as if leaving him out...

Seriously, how is it that the guy is clever enough to come up with good battle plans and analysis--And yet be so dense? Not like the vampire's faking it either. Unless the flirting is slightly above subtle, bit more direct--then he won't catch on. Just assume the other person's being affectionate, especially when it comes to the people he views as his friends, or 'homies' like some of the youngsters like to say.

Absolutely ride or die, will drop everything to come and help anyone of them out, stick it through to the end come hell or high water. But by the dear Goddess is it frustrating, trying to get the point across without being obnoxious.

For a whole week, he's been trying to say 'Hey! I'm into you!'--Dinners (that never got to actually happen. The doll was always busy with Merlin duties or other work.), flirting and playfulness.. Which in hindsight probably looked like typical Valen shmoozer bravado. But the gifts should've been some hint! Right?? I mean, come on! Who else does that? ...Oh, wait- Fay and the Wilders crew have also sent him gifts. And the Uru clan, too. Also Marilee and Mirael from time to time. And Magister Merlin.

Suddenly Valen feels like a fool.

Taking all of this into account, no wonder his behavior gets mixed up. It doesn't help that literally every time he's tried to ask the wanderer on a date face to face, something always cropped up--Either the general got a new mission, or something else duty-related that can't wait or he'd be swamped with paperwork in the office. Or the annual meeting of the Solitaires has come and he didn't notice, as a result having to rush, beeline for the capitol like a madman.

Meanwhile Sinbad has only very recently joined their little squad and is a friend, yes.. Just not quite 'a homie' yet. And none of that crap. Lucky bastard devil.

"I think I figured out why Sonja was never interested in me."

"Hm? Why?"

" 'Cause she already had eyes on her bodyguard and got with him." "Really??"

"Aye. Can't miss 'em. I was just too tunnel-visioned to notice it."

—"Never really thought the lady had it in her, to be honest. She always comes across to me as too busy-not interested in romance."

—"Ha. The irony." Pirin lightly swats at his shoulder with a small laugh and a half-hearted 'Oh shut it.', the two of them almost passing by the slouched over troubled knight.

Valen's forlorn, gloomy face catches the vampire's attention and he halts, a scowl of mild apprehension settling onto his features. Unhooking his arm from his sailor's, the ghostly 'siren' pads back, causing the other to pause and look back at him with a look of slight confusion. Then his brown eyes land on the brooding Solitaire and it clicks in his head. The scarred intel-trader calmly rejoins his siren's side.

—"Valyo? You alright?" -A breathless tenor snaps Valen out of his thoughts, almost jumping out of his skin. (Barely registers the silly nickname of endearment. It came up as a half-joke that stuck around similar to 'Romeo' and 'Prince Charmer'. 'Val' and 'Vale' or 'Knave', too.) Followed by a tenor an octave lower and more rugged yet no less worried, echoing in wary agreement.

Understandable, given how often the 'sun' has been terrorizing and the corruption she's known to inflict. Sometimes out of the blue, with no clue it's there until it gets more severe. Can't catch a break these days. —"Yup, you seem off. Everything good?" Their voices honestly startled him for a good second--Only to notice the two mildly concerned pearly and rum-like irises of his friends, Pirin's gloved hand resting on his shoulder. Whatever spiteful courage had come up instantly whizz out, leaving the light-armored charmer a sudden nervous wreck. Partially out of internal panic incoming at having been caught red-handed, realizing he's drawn attention to himself and at being left breathless from the sight.

Now or never. Now or never. Here goes nothing. Blinking, Valen hurries to quickly straighten out his posture and cover it up with a cough, silently having fingers crossed he doesn't burn bridges in this moment of truth. They'd find out eventually one way or another. ..doesn't make it anymore easy.

—"Yes! Yes, I'm fine! Don't worry for me! I was just...thinking, over something." -The handsome playboy knight answers back with a smile that comes across as more nervous instead of his usual. Well that didn't sound suspicious at all. Judging by the looks on his two companions, neither was convinced by his half-sputter. Running a hand through his wavy hair and keeping it on his nape, a slight grimace crosses his angular face, knowing he's just cornered himself and no backpedaling will save him.

"Alright, fine- I've been having a hare-brained idea for some time that keeps nagging me." Another feeble attempt at leaving a backdoor to weasel out of.

—"Just spill the beans already. We promise we won't laugh- We're all crackheads in this team." -That the hardy coastal swindler promptly shuts with a prompt of affable humor. "Right, Vanya?" The man shorter than the two of them, hums cheerily with a light smile.

Two against one? Not very fair.

Looks like the inner conflicting dilemma is done with, now that there's nowhere to run under the duo's expectant gaze. And so the poor outnumbered solder caves in with 'Just don't get mad and hear me out.' muttered under his breath, barely above a whisper.

—"Here's the thing: I've had a crush on our 'Magister' since I first saw him when General Hogan assigned me as his escort." -He begins, the campfire's dying embers weakly illuminating him, ignoring the simple "Cool." from Rusport's notorious intel-gatherer. Doesn't make a big deal out of the confession, casual smirk still present with a brief raise of the burly brows. However the subtle glimmer is there, a silent warning. Valen presses on, raising his hands in defense as a 'Chill out', keeping his tone even. As for Pirin, the spirit doesn't appear too excited, nor judgmental.

—"I've tried to express my interest several times, however something always happened. It was like a curse! And recently the idea of polyamory appeared in my mind, haunting me since relentlessly--It's fairly popular in the capital. So I guess I'm curious to hear your thoughts on perhaps giving it a try..? See if it works?"

Sinbad's breezy smirk has faded, hands on hips in what can be interpreted as mild disapproval. Definitely not enthusiastic about the idea, not quite annoyed either. Not very happy in any case.

Pirin's owl-like grey eyebrows pinch together subtly into a pout of mild confusion and uncertainty. Reluctant, weighing and doing a thorough analysis in his mind. Sorting out his thoughts on the matter and carefully putting them in a cohesive order. Likely also attempting to make sense of the ordeal, what to even make of it. One way or the other, it's plain obvious he'd stick with his 'Jolly sailor Bold'. Doesn't hurry to respond, fallen into 'observer mode', gathering as many perspectives to reflect in hopes of getting the bigger picture. So the blond easily slides in, keeping his voice level-headed. Neutral. As though humoring him with a hypothetical scenario. And blunt, not very convinced.

—"I guess we could. 'Don't knock it 'til you try it' as they say." Not flat out rejection.. "You might find yourself drowned in trouble, though- Given our track record as magnets for it." Then goes straight for the throat, using humor as friendly teasing. Beneath it, the note of sternness isn't lost on Valen. And it makes sense. Still doesn't make it more pleasant to be voiced aloud, however.

"Jokes aside- I doubt this thing would pan out. I think it's obvious we're both attracted to Pirin here, not each other. So it's really less of a 'polyamory' and more of a 'triangle'. To me- this whole thing sounds like a free pass to third-wheel us, no offense."

—"None taken, fair enough. Then I suppose that's a 'no' from you?" -The lilac-eyed Solitaire quips somewhat defensively, making the other man bristle a little. A flash of teeth not too unlike a dog.

What do you see in this con artist Vanyusha? —"Hey! If it was, I would've said so! Don't put words into my mouth, yeah?"-Then finishes in a calmer tone of low, clear tenor, gesturing with a hand- palm up. Kind of like a shrug. "I'm just laying my cards on the table, that's all." Maybe putting this suggestion out there truly wasn't the best idea after all. The fishy hustler has made a very good point- It probably won't work. They'd be at each other's throat more like rivals while trying to hide it under witty banters and mock spars, to make it seem like just horsing around in front of their shared partner.

Or maybe we'd get along swimmingly once I get used to Sinbad's particular bluntness and much sharper humor, crass or bit obnoxious as it is, due to our culture and lifestyle disparity.

Shoulders relaxing, the adventurous street-rat glances down at his partner, expression softening slightly along with his voice that takes a quiet note. That same gentleness that Valen envies and yearns for at the same time--Love. Simple, sincere, unconditional and unwaveringly lasting.

Once again bias strikes: How can this perpetually coinless, messy and unrefined, stinking scoundrel who greedily relies on the generosity of others, have attained what he has been struggling to grasp for weeks & longer?

What does Pirin see in this rouge, that he doesn't have or can't offer?

Chances are I look like a frivolous fop to the intel-trader in turn. Vanya has his reasons. I'm simply being jealous.

Still stings.

"Besides, I'm not the one who calls the shots solo." Let's hear Pirin's two cents on this.

—"...I'm not sure this would work either, but am willing to try-If, heavily tentative. What bothers me is that you would be--or feel like being unwanted or unwelcome when there comes a day where..." Falters, pauses for a quick second to get his thoughts organized.

By this point, most of the team is aware of him being a vampire and the little 'kinks' that come alongside it aside from the specialized diet. Namely, the whole bonding 'issue' which doesn't allow for polyamory on a biological level...and also psychological to a very large extent.

Something that's taken incredibly seriously, as a vampire's bonded partner- Is literally that individual's life-long partner with no return or cheating. The very reason why vampires had gone down in numbers faster than fairies did in the span of a single century during the slaughter.

"I inevitably have to bond, and will choose Sinbad. Once that point arrives, the arrangement would be rendered null, its purpose defeated. Or this is my perspective on the matter, at the very least." Looking up from the grass of the clearing and embers, the deeply contemplative look in his irises remains as he meets those of his former knight.

—"..Unless you are okay, knowing this...? Also- Isn't polyamory heavily frowned upon in Holistone? Seen as immoral and promiscuous?"

—"While I admit it does sting, I would still be content with being your partner. Even if secondary." And on the off-chance the 'arrangement' falls apart--I'd be fine with being simply both your friend and wingman. At least then I'd know I tried instead of running away. Carefully, the former mercenary takes one of the spirit's hands in his own.

"As for whether it's scorned in Holistone- It is, unfortunately. However, who says the people have to know our private affairs anyway? We can simply say we're close friends and tone down the intimacy a notch when in public, get away with the excuse. At most, the three of us would be deemed as eccentrics in a way.

Give it some time, and polyamory will gradually begin to be seen as something mundane rather than a big deal, maybe an eyeroll or crass jab here and there."

—"So we're all on the same page then?" -The Seaside savant chimes in all too casually, startling his siren out of his thoughts. Valen wrestles with himself to not get jealous- again- as the tanned Captain places his hands on the 'Magister's' hips, resting his chin on the other's shoulder. These two are already pretty much an established couple, it's him who's shaken up the status quo here. It's normal for them to be intimately romantic with each other.

Envy still doesn't listen to rationality, however.

It only merely flares up as Pirin relaxes and lightly leans back, a soft smile of sweet amused fondness playing on his lips, reaching a hand to affectionately ruffle the sailor's messy hair. Or when he cards his fingers through it, smoothing back the adventurer's bangs, out of his face with care.

"Good-'Cause I wanna make one thing clear. No threesomes, no negotiations." The snowy-haired much shorter man halts his ministrations with a look of surprise on his soft face, absolutely red. Sputters, or squeaks out a very embarrassed 'Sinbad! Can't just blurt it out!' under his hitched breath. The swindler's hands lightly squeeze his sharp hips in response as wordless apology.

—"Fair enough- I wouldn't have asked for it either."

Romance has always somehow made him bit squeamish, or maybe more like the notion of full commitment to someone. Either way, there's something about engaging in sexual acts with multiple partners that simply...doesn't click with him.

Fooling with, romancing multiple people and bedding them, are two different stories.

Although you could have worded it a smidge more tactfully rather than blurting it out. And because he can't resist being his usual cheeky self, Valen goes on to playfully tease.

—"I suppose that makes me your second boyfriend with financial benefits, then." A snort. The three of them start to walk up the trail back to Southville after ensuring the dead embers don't cause another wildfire.

As they saunter up the worn, downtrodden trail leading back to the village, the nocturnal being forces himself to pad at a steadier pace. While his partners stride at his sides with leisurely gait, enjoying the scenery. Until their love couldn't take it anymore and briskly sauntered up ahead a few steps then paused to wait for them, falling back relatively in-step.

Valen loops an arm around his..their? boyfriend's shoulder, pulling the restless ball of energy close, inwardly noting how calm his 'rival' is about it. Full trust, not a speck of jealousy or possessive protectiveness. Instead the dust-blond is perfectly fine with retorting in matching lark, holding the vampire's hand calmly, fingers laced.

—"Sure, if you don't mind paying the bill."

—"Don't threaten me with a good time, Sinbad." —"You two mind the rounds, or you're getting to snore in the garden."

And the two trouble-makers quickly pin this warning in mind, knowing well it's not an empty threat.

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 2 years ago

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The Scent of You: Nero x Male Reader

MINORS DNI: THIS IS FOR 18+ ONLY (ngl I don't know if this stuff is allowed here, but I think it is lmao)

SUMMARY: Nero has been on a job for almost a month. When he returns to your shared home, he decides to relax and take a hot shower. While doing so, he gets really horny and tries to control himself. However, your scent is driving him up the wall with need. 🌟🌟🌟 🌟🌟🌟 🌟🌟🌟 Wrote this to try and get a better feel for what I want Nero to be like; kinda what I did with Vergil ngl. ... I didn’t realize it till typing this, I am legit doing the same thing I did for Vergil for Nero because I had the same issue--wtf lmaooo 🌟🌟🌟 I also was having a hard time describing certain locations on the body; so there are some “real” names for muscles and whatnot; sorry if that throws you off a bit lmao. 🌟🌟🌟 Semi-mindless smut. Minor fluff. Very minor description of masturbation (Nero). Pre-established relationship; implied marriage. First time Devil Trigger sex; mentions of blood (which Nero gets aroused by) and knotting Male Bottom Sub. Reader x Top Dom. Nero (side note: Nero does use his teeth on your dick; I know it’s not everyone’s cup of tea, but I wanted to write it in idk). 🌟🌟🌟

The van ride from the DMC to Nero’s was abnormally quiet. The only noise was the van's engine and the faint humming that Nico made to the tunes on the stereo. That being said, a nuke could've gone off and Nero, who was sitting in his usual spot on the passenger seat, wouldn't have noticed. The teal demon had zoned out a long time ago. He was looking out the window, watching the buildings pass as they got further toward the outside edge of Red Grave.

It had been one hell of a month for the youngest descendant of Sparda. Between having to work alongside the rest of the Sparda line and the contract being a bigger pain than they were informed; he was beyond exhausted. All Nero wanted to do was take a hot shower, eat something, and cuddle into you.��

He groaned in irritation; God did he miss you. All that he could think about the past week or so was how much he yearned to hold you in a tight loving hug. Feeling your heartbeat against his chest, running his fingers through your hair, kissing your sweet face and lips--there are no words to even describe how much the young devil hunter craved you.

“Welp, here we are,” Nico spoke and gestured to the house in front of the van; breaking Nero from his thoughts, “Don’t forget any of your shit now, alright?”

Nero scoffed and rolled his eyes, “You’re never going to let that go are you?”

“Not a chance,”

He got up from the passenger seat, “Figures--” with a smooth motion he grabbed Red Queen and his duffle bag of gear from the couch, “Thanks for the ride, asshole.”

“Anytime, dickhead!” Nico waved a short goodbye as Nero departed from the van onto the asphalt.

He watched the van drive off for a moment; attempting to gather himself. Nero hadn’t told you he was coming home and wanted to surprise you-- hopefully, you won’t stab him thinking he is an intruder (again). With a springing giddiness to his walk, he went up to the front door. It took him a moment of rummaging in his pockets for him to find his keys.

Upon finding them, he unlocked the doorknob and deadbolt as quietly as he could. Once inside, he slowly shut the door behind him. Nero focused for a moment, trying to place where you were in the house; he found out you were in the kitchen through your heartbeat. Discarding his bag on the floor and leaning Red Queen up against the wall, he crept toward your location. You were turned away from him doing something on the counter, not paying any attention to the stalking paces of the sly hunter.

“Miss me, baby?” a set of muscular arms wrapped around your torso making you jolt forward and knock your head backward into Nero’s jaw.

“Jesus-!” you shouted as your heart raced.

Nero chuckled as he kissed the top of your head, “Not quite, but, at least you didn’t stab me this time.”

“No,” you looked down at the cutting board on the counter in front of you, “I just stabbed myself instead.”

“What.”

Nero removed his arms from your waist. You casually walked over to the sink to rinse your newly formed cut on your hand’s purlicue. Blood didn’t bother you much since Nero’s constantly covered in it, however, the placement of this particular cut is going to be a bitch to heal.

Nero re-wrapped himself around your waist and pouted, “Sorry.”

With a grin and shake of your head, you turned off the water. Feeling how warm he was, you couldn’t help but lean back into your teal devil, “It’s fine, Nero… I’m glad you’re home.”

Nero grabbed the cut hand and gently placed a kiss on the small wound, “There, good as new.”

A loud snort of a snicker came from your nose, “Oh my god, Nero,” you wiggled in his arms to turn and face him, “you are a dork.”

He winked and smiled, “and I’m yours forever.”

With an exaggerated roll of your eyes, you gently kissed his cheek, “I’m the luckiest man alive.”

“Nope, sorry. That title’s mine,” he placed tender kisses on your neck.

The feeling of his warm lips against you sent a shiver up your spine. You placed one of your hands in his hair and ruffled it a bit. Nero’s kisses stopped and turned into nuzzling as you continued your motion; the teal demon practically melted into you.

Your face turned to a scrunch and you removed your hand. His hair was full of dried blood.

“Nero--” you looked down at him, who was now staring at you with the most puppy-dog-eyed stare you’ve ever seen, “Don’t give me that look…”

He stuck out his lip in a pout and made a fake sniffling sound, “Why’d you stop?”

“You’re full of blood and stuff,” you gently took your hand and placed it on his cheek, thumbing over his soft skin, “You need a bath.”

With a sigh, he stopped pouting, “Care to join me~?”

“I would but,” you looked over to the stove, “the soup won’t cook itself.”

Nero stood back upright with the energy of a small child, “You’re makin’ soup?!”

“Yeah…” you laughed at his excitement, “You told me last week that you were coming home so I bought the stuff for it… It was gonna go bad if I waited any longer so,” you shrugged, “I made soup.”

“God, I love you,” He kissed your forehead, “You need any help?”

With a shake of your head, you responded, “Nope; just for you to wash up before dinner--please?”

“Sure thing babe,” with a large over-the-top kiss (and a 'mwah' sound to go with it), he trotted off.

Shaking your head with a smile, you continued your cooking.

The young hunter went and retrieved his bag and Red Queen from the entryway. Then waltz over to the bedroom. He tossed the bag off to the side and set his sword against one of the walls; leaving them to deal with later. Mindlessly, Nero grabbed some clothes and a towel.

He sauntered into the bathroom and stripped himself bare--removing his Overture devil breaker as well. With the flip of a switch, he turned on the bathroom fan and moved to turn on the shower. Since his body was aching, Nero decided to turn the knob as hot as he could; creating an almost sauna-like feel to the bathroom.

A sigh of relief left his lips as he stepped into and under the scorching water. Nero began to purr in comfort as he felt the stress and strain of the past month leave his body. He reached for some body wash--not paying much attention to his actions. It wasn’t until he began to lather his body that he realized that it wasn’t his body wash; it was yours.

“Shit,” Nero mumbled to himself.

It’s not that the young hunter disliked the smell of your wash; he loves it and that’s the problem. A strained growl emanated from his throat. The smell of you drives Nero insane normally; however, due to the past month of being around his family constantly, Nero was beyond pent-up. Typically he wouldn’t have had any problems asking for some physical affection, but he didn’t want to seem rude for being home less than an hour and already asking for sex. So, the young man decided to take care of it himself.

Nero bit down on his lip as he slowly began to stroke himself. He leaned forward, placing a flat hand against a tile wall of the shower. Admittedly, his demon was screaming to go get you and claim you; which only made him bite down harder on his lip. Blood trickled down his chin as he began to move his hand faster; fantasizing about what he would do if you were there with him. How good it would feel to ram you against the wall. The sound of your strained moans while he choked you. His hand would be around your cock as you trembled beneath him; only allowing you to cum when he said so. Nero’s pace became ragged. His fingers pressed against the wall hard enough they were turning white. He imagined telling you how much of a good boy you were being. The sound of your voice as you begged to be allowed to cum. That thought broke him. A loud guttural groan slipped past Nero’s (still-bleeding) lips as he came.

Slowly coming back down from his high, Nero finished showering; this time paying close attention to what wash he was using. Trying to ignore the still very lustful thoughts that lingered at the edges of his mind.

===

It had nearly been forty-five minutes since Nero went to shower; a part of you was beginning to worry that he fell asleep while bathing. Since all the soup had left to do was simmer, you decided to leave the kitchen to find out if he was okay.

First, you checked the bathroom. It was muggy and the showerhead still had water dripping from it. Nero’s devil breaker was still resting on the countertop, which made you raise a brow in confusion; however, he wasn’t in there. So you moved on to the bedroom.

What you came upon was quite a sight.

On the bed, Nero was facing upwards. His legs were lazily hung over the edge of the bed that was facing you. Around his hips was a towel that had been thrown on as an afterthought; seeing as it was barely covering anything besides his dick. You bit your lip slightly at the sight. Despite seeing your lover naked a thousand times, it still managed to give you butterflies.

Nero hadn’t moved to acknowledge that you were in the doorway, so you decided to get a closer look. In the past, he had taken some unintentional cat naps after a hot shower; so you figured that’s what happened.

You peered over his body. His eyes snapped to you; both his eyes were glowing his goldenrod coloration from his triggered form. In an instant, Nero had pulled you onto the bed and had you pinned beneath him. The towel had been discarded and it took everything in your body to not look downwards; not wanting to break eye contact. One of his hands held both of your wrists above your head while the other gently ran up your middle. A faint growling caught your attention as you tilted your head slightly.

He leaned into your neck and lightly kissed along your jugular. A shiver ran through your body, Nero’s breath was hot and the growling had only grown louder. Although this would have typically been super hot, the fact that he hadn’t said anything was a bit odd.

“Nero--?” your voice was laced with an aroused, yet, confused tone.

His kisses stopped and he stilled for a moment. He moved up to your face and placed his cheek against yours; which you noted was scorching. Along with that, he also pressed the rest of his body into you. You felt his stiff cock grind against the ever-growing tent in your pants.

“I’m sorry but,” Nero’s voice was needy as he gently bit your earlobe, “I need you, please .”

Another shiver ran through your body, “I- I have to turn off the stove f-first.”

Nero sat back upward narrowing his eyes and placed a hand on your chest, “Stay,” with that, Nero got up and left the room (presumably to turn off the stove for you.).

This gave you a brief moment to think, “ Nero doesn’t usually growl like that… I wonder if-- ” your thoughts were cut short.

A set of bioluminescent blue wings moved you to the center of the mattress. Not wasting any time, Nero was back on top and straddling you. His lips were immediately intertwined with yours. A hot tongue was forced within the confines of your mouth, desperately exploring every corner. He used his wings to pin your wrists out to your sides as he used his hands to strip you of your clothing; not caring that he was ripping them from your body.

Once you were barren of your clothing, Nero broke off the kiss and leaned back upwards--and let go of your wrists. You were panting heavily and awaited his next move.

His eyes fluttered all over your body as barely-there fingertips ghosted down your body, only to stop before reaching your aching flesh, “God,” he leaned back down and whispered against your shoulder, “you’re gorgeous.”

Nero bit down on your shoulder and gripped your middle. Your body arched upwards as you grabbed a hand full of his slate-grey hair, pulling slightly. His growling intensified as did his bite.

“Fuck-” you pulled Nero off of you a bit, “Nero that hurt.”. He looked up at you with an intense stare you hadn’t seen before. Seeing the slightly red tint to his lips made you realize that he had actually bitten you, “Nero?”

His lips parted slightly as he continued to stare into your eyes and, after a moment, he spoke, “Sorry.”

His grip loosened on your body slightly and he placed a gentle peck on your new bite mark. Admittedly this had happened before but it had only happened when he was cumming.

Squashing down your questions and concerns (blaming it on your long separation), you whispered, "It's okay," following that with a gentle kiss on his neck. Knowing that Nero tends to dwell on accidentally hurting you when sleeping together, you decided to move things forward by leaning upwards.

However, he used his wings to pin your wrists down once again as his hands pushed you back down into the plush bedding, "What do you think you're doing?" his voice was low and husky; just oozing with dominance.

A slight confusion settled in your mind, seeing as Nero had never stopped you from moving to give him head. You decided that he was just adding to the foreplay, "I wanted to have a taste of you~"

He ran his tongue along your neckline, "I didn't tell you that I wanted you to move, in fact," Nero sat upward, "I want you right where you are…" he firmly grabbed your external obliques, leaving his hands temptingly close to your hips.

You swallowed hard. Seeing Nero taking such an intense approach to things after not being together for so long made your body ache and your cock twitch--which he noticed.

With a devilish smirk, Nero slowly began to kiss down your middle. Stopping every few to give you a hickey or bite mark; taking extra care to make sure he wasn’t being too rough. You squirmed under his firm grasp of wings and hands. It was uncommon for Nero to go down on you; typically, Nero enjoyed frotting against you instead. Seems he really wants to step out of the norm today.

A bite against your inner thigh pulled you from your thoughts. A loud sharp moan escaped your lips as you, unintentionally, bucked your hips upward. Nero growled at your movement and placed his hands harshly down on your hips, keeping them pinned down.

"Nero," you whimpered, desperately wanting to touch him and yourself.

His golden eyes met with yours, "Be a good boy or I stop--got it?" Wanting him to continue, you nodded frantically, making him smirk, "Good."

Tepid kisses ran up your inner thighs. Before he reached your balls, he would stop and place a hickey on the sensitive flesh; creating matching marks on each side. Nero looked up at you; his stare was different. A strange semi-nervous feeling began to pool in your stomach at the predatory gaze of your lover.

The young man placed kisses along your balls and up to the tip of your dick, giving your slit a small kitten lick. Nero’s lips were broiling hot against your skin, which only added to the effects of the uncommon action. You bit your lip and let out a strangled groan; resisting the urge to buck your hips again. Nero seemed to notice your restraint and rewarded you with a long drawn-out kiss to the underside of your cock head.

He smirked as he watched your internal struggle to stay composed. His tongue ran along the slit of your tip; cleaning the small amount of pre-cum there was.

“You taste good,” he whispered as he ran his tongue up the side of your shaft. You whimpered as he continued his teasing; never quite putting his lips around you.

“Nero,” your voice was whiney and laced with need. He looked up at you and gave you a small ‘hm?’ as he continued his ministrations along your cock, “please--” you gasped as you felt his teeth carefully and gently nibble along the side of your dick, “f-fuck--”

He stopped for a moment; debating what he wanted to do. A part of him wanted to keep teasing your sensitive flesh and the other wanted to hear you cry out for him. Seeing the desperation in your eyes as you stared down at him made him shudder.

Slowly, Nero placed his lips around the tip of your dick and inched his way down to the base of your dick; gagging slightly as it hit the back of his throat.

You threw your head back, “Fuck- Nero--”

His growling intensified upon hearing your voice. Nero pulled his head back up and removed his lips, “I want you to look at me,” his eyes met with yours as he bobbed slowly up and down your dick.

All the while, the grip his wings had on your wrists let go and he allowed you to grab his hair. Using his blue-feathery extensions, he reached over to the side table and grabbed a bottle of lube from the drawer--dropping it near your hips for later. He then took his wings and used them to push your hips into the bed, replacing his hands. As he continued to slow down and speed up on your cock, he took his hands and gently groped at the under and inner sides of your thighs.

Nero’s eyes stayed locked with yours as he pulled his lips off of your dick and bite down over one of the already-there hickeys on your thighs. Then gave the tip of your dick a few more licks and then circled the tip, all the while you were praising and moaning your lover’s name.

“Nero, please-- fuck, I-- ugh,” your hands pulled harder on his hair as he took your dick and placed it against his cheek, his breath grazing your aching flesh.

A shiver ran up your spine as you stared into his eyes; the primal feeling held in his stare only increased with each of your words and sounds. Once again his mouth took your dick in; this time, however, he kept a faster pace. One of his hands moved to the base of your shaft, adding small strokes alongside the movements of his mouth.

You felt your peak coming on, which Nero seemed to notice too. He moved his hand from your dick to your balls, massaging them slightly. The tip of your dick hit the back of his throat again; as he made sure to take in as much of you as he could. With a loud groan of Nero’s name, you came into his mouth. He made sure to savor every drop, still staring you in the eyes.

You expected Nero to pause a minute before continuing, as you normally would; however, before you had even come back down from your euphoria, he was back up on top of you--kissing you wildly. There was a fire in his lip's motions as he felt you grope at every inch of his body; enjoying being able to finally touch your teal demon. A small moan left Nero’s lips as you kneaded into his chest.

After a minute or two, Nero stopped kissing you and moved out of his straddling position, “Turn over.” the growling had now become interlaced with his voice; reminding you of his devil trigger.

“You’re quite dominating today…” you flipped over, “it’s pretty hot.”

You could practically feel him smirk at your comment, but he said nothing; only pushing a lubed-up finger inside of your ass.

He leaned down and began to kiss along your shoulder as he mumbled, “You’re tight; although you seem to have prepped for me-?”

A small smile tugged at your lips, “I cleaned up before coming to find you; figured you were going to-- ah~”

Nero bit down on your shoulder and began to leave yet another loving mark, “What a good boy.”

You moved your head to allow him to bite your neck; which he moved to do right away. He pushed another finger into your hole. Nero was dying to fuck you and was steadily growing impatient with things.

However, he knew that he had to take it slower than normal; since you were much tighter with him being gone so long. So he had to control himself, which did by continuing to bite along your shoulders, neck, and back.

After another few minutes, he slid a third digit inside you. At this point, you were as desperate as he was, “Nero I can take it,”

The twisting of his fingers stopped as did his kisses, but he didn’t move, “Beg.”

Your heart skipped a beat, “What?”

His voice was husky against your ear, the growling only getting worse with each passing moment, “Beg for me.”

Nero had never asked for you to beg before and you took a long shaky breath before mumbling, “Please, Nero.”

“I didn’t quite catch that,” one of his wings yanked your head back allowing him even more access to your neck, “louder. ” he harshly bit down on your neck; much harder than before.

“Fuck!” you jerked your body from the unexpected sharp stinging of his teeth, “Please, Nero-- I need you inside me!”

He licked the fresh wound he created in your neck, “Good boy.”

You let out a whimper as you felt Nero remove his fingers. However before you got too lonely, you felt his hands on your hips. Nero took a deep breath as he lined himself with your needy hole; teasing you slightly.

“Please Nero, please, ” you slightly rolled your hips against him, encouraging him to continue.

His lip twitched upwards as he let out a dark snarl. Suddenly, he slammed himself inside of your body; not allowing you to take him slowly.

“Fuck!” your body jolted forward from the force of his thrust as your hands violently grasped at the bedding beneath you. Tears had sprung up to the edges of your eyes as you tried to steady yourself by breathing slowly.

Seeing movement out of the corner of your eyes, you looked over to one side. Nero had braced himself with his palms on the mattress. Which was fine; however, your breath hitched upon seeing the ever-growing blue and iron-grey scales crawling up his arms.

“Nero-” you squirmed a bit, “I want to see you--please?” your voice was soft in hopes he would listen to you.

Which he did. He pulled himself out of you and flipped you over. This allowed you to get a better idea of what was going on.

Nero’s breathing had become quite labored. His brow was furrowed slightly and his eyes were still golden; however, his pupils had dilated heavily--something that you had never seen before--and was avoiding looking you in the eyes. Long hair covered his face and was sprawling down his back. And although his forearms were covered in scales, the rest of him was still quite human. A twitch of his lip revealed a much sharper set of teeth than normal. You could see the internal conflict he was having over this.

“Hey,” you placed a hand on his cheek, which he leaned into, “It’s okay. I can take it.”

His eyes met with yours, his voice barely audible, “What if I hurt you…”

With a warm soft smile, you gently caressed him with your thumb, “You won’t, Nero. I promise. You can let go.”

In reality, you had no idea if you were going to be fine. Nero had already bitten you hard enough to make you bleed, twice, and he tended to kiss along very vulnerable parts of your body. Over all the years you have been with the teal devil, he had never triggered during sex nor had either of you broached the subject before.

Nero allowed himself to let go as you continued to hold the side of his face; watching the metamorphosis before you. A new poking caught your attention as you looked down towards your hips. His cock grew several inches and became thicker; which, in hindsight, you should’ve thought about before agreeing.

Without wasting another moment, Nero animalistically shoved himself back inside you.

With a sharp gasp, you sputtered in response, “f-fuck, f-fuck, s-shit,” your head hit the bed as you continued your strand of ‘fucks’ and ‘shits’.

He placed his hands around your hips and pulled his cock out; barely leaving the tip inside. Only to slam into you twice as hard; not allowing you to slowly adjust to the large cock inside you.

The teal demon’s pace was brutal. You were going to stroke yourself; however, the bucking of his hips against your prostate negated the need for that. He used his wings to brace behind your shoulders and pulled you up to him. His kisses were scorching and filled with an unyielding lust. You had tried to break from his kiss, only to be brought right back with a growl to accompany it.

When Nero finally did decide to let you out of the kiss, he noticed that he had nicked your chin with one of his spikes. With a swift motion, your lover lapped up the blood that had trickled from the wound; which aroused you, much to your confusion and concern.

However, your thoughts were silenced as he pushed you into the bed with a choke. His hand gripped around your neck; making sure to keep it at a comfortable squeeze--the last thing he wants is for you to pass out.

You moaned loudly, arching your back as his wings gripped your legs and pulled them upwards; holding them above the ridges of his shoulders. The other hand slowly raked up your torso, leaving light claw marks up your middle. He brought his claws up to his lips and licked your blood clean off of them. If you had been able to think, you would’ve been afraid of how much Nero seemed to enjoy tasting your blood.

His once hard languid motions became hard uneven motions. You knew that meant he was getting close, you were too. He moved your legs back down, so he could get closer to you. The devil’s hot breath washed over your neck as you gripped the base of his horns, massaging them slightly. This rewarded you with even harder slams of his strong hips.

“God,” your voice was hoarse and cracked slightly, “I love you.”

Nero nuzzled your neck in response.

You whimpered as his thrusts became short and even harsher, “Please, I need you-- Ah~!”

His sharp teeth bit down into your platysma muscle; making yet another deep puncture through your soft flesh. Nero’s hips aggressively ground into yours and forced something larger inside of you; making you jerk your hips and hiss in pain.

A few minutes passed as he kept his teeth locked into your body and his cock buried deep into you. Despite that, however, you could feel that cum had already begun to leak from your body. Your insides were twitching as you felt him pull his hips back a little but he was unable to remove himself. Whatever had been pushed into you was keeping the both of you intimately interlocked.

You had a tired smile on your face as you gently pet his hair and his horns. Nero had begun to purr from your soft touches. You’d hoped that maybe he would relax enough to pull himself from your body; even if you weren’t 100% sure of what was going on.

After another few minutes, Nero pulled back on his hips again. This time he was able to remove himself with an audible ‘pop’. Your hips quaked as you groaned from the feeling of his hot seed dripping down your overly-sensitive body. He released his bite on your body, making you shut your eyes and cuss in pain.

Nero had gotten up from the bed before you reopened your eyes. Attempting to get a better idea of what was going on, you tried to sit upward. However, the feeling of sharp intense pain shot up your body. So you gave up on the idea of trying to move.

“ Maybe he went to get a towel? ” you thought to yourself, feeling a bit lonely without him.

You were nearly asleep by the time Nero came back into the room.

“Hey, baby,” Nero’s voice was soft. He walked over to the bed with a towel in hand, “I drew up a bath, stay still a minute.” his voice was quiet enough that his words came off as more of a question than a statement. Your young lover used the towel to wipe your body and ass off a bit as he sat at the corner of the bed; secretly enjoying the view of your undone body.

“Nero-” you propped yourself up on your elbows with a grunt. He looked up at you, his eyes were now back to his normal sea-blue eyes, “Why were we… uh… stuck together?”

His eyes widened as a faint blush tugged at his face, “I um…” he swallowed audibly and laughed to himself, “I knotted you.”

It was your turn to go wide-eyed and blush, “What?”

“It’s used to--”

“I know what it does,” you laughed and avoided his eyes, letting yourself lay back down, “just didn’t know you could do that.”

The younger hunter grinned at you as he stood, “There’s a lot I can do with that side of me; I just worry about what those things are.”

He moved to your side and picked you up to take you to the bathroom. You tiredly mumbled into his shoulder, “If you want, we can experiment more with your demonic side; I’m okay with it.”

Nero smiled. He sat in the bath with you in his lap so he could help clean you off, “Sure, I-” his smile quickly faded, turning to a frown, “Did I--?” his fingers lightly brushed over the final bite that he had left, making you unintentionally wince.

It had turned to a dark purple, almost black coloration, and was still bleeding quite badly. Nero looked as if he was about to cry as he stared at you with a furrowed brow. You gently grabbed his hand and removed it from the bite, “I’m fine Nero. It’s not that big of--”

“I hurt you,” Nero pursed his lips as he let out a shaky breath noticing the claw marks down your middle, “I could have killed you; you know that right? Using that form--” he pulled his hand back from yours.

“Nero, look at me,” you used your hands to cup the sides of his face, “I wouldn’t have let you do that if I didn’t want it; besides, I trust you.”

“But--”

“No buts,” you gently rubbed his face with your thumbs, “We both enjoyed ourselves, right?”

He nodded.

“And I am still alive; aren’t I?”

Once more, he nodded.

“So we are both okay?”

Nero nodded finally looking back at your face.

“I understand your concern but… you aren’t a mindless beast, you know? ” Nero placed his hands gently over the top of yours, “I know what I signed up for and I trust you, Nero; completely and entirely,” you could hear a very faint purr coming from him.

He took each of your hands and placed a slow soft kiss on each, “Trusting a demon, huh? Not the smartest thing to do.”

A loving smile spread across your face, “Then consider me the happiest idiot around.”

Nero laughed with a wide grin, “I really love you,” he sighed contently, “so fuckin’ much.”

---

Hope I did Nero justice with this and that y'all enjoyed this little story! Wasn't sure how to end this, so forgive me if it is abrupt lmao. 🌟🌟🌟 Thank you so much for reading!! :)))

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

MASTER LIST FOR TUMBLR

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ziekaramaik · 8 days ago

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The Invasion, page 97

I was living a nightmare. No, it was worse than a nightmare. In a nightmare, you eventually wake up. But I was already awake. There was nowhere else to go.

Temrash 114 had complete control over my body every second of the day. I couldn't even close my eyes when I wanted. I was forced to watch the horror my life had become. All because I joined The Sharing.

And now they were trying to do the same thing to my little brother.

Since the thing at the construction site last night, Temrash 114 was more interested than ever in having Jake infested. The Yeerk used my body and voice to invite Jake to a meeting of The Sharing. Jake didn't seem interested at first. But a little later, he came to me and said he would come after all.

I wanted to say, No, Jake! What are you doing? Say no, don't come! But the words couldn't reach my mouth.

It was my worst fear: That my little brother would become trapped in the same Hell I was.

Jake was the very last person on Earth I wanted the Yeerks to infest. Even more than my parents - They were adults, I could trust them to look after themselves. But Jake was just a little kid. He needed me to protect him. I was his big brother. It was my job to protect him. But I couldn't do anything!

Worse than that. I was the tool being used to put him in danger.

Jake came to the bonfire at the beach. He ate the barbeque. He played volleyball with my impostor. He seemed to be having fun. He had no idea it was all a trap. And I couldn't warn him. I could only watch. I was being forced to watch.

"Now you see why I enjoy this?" my mouth said. I tried to keep my mouth closed, but I had no control over it. I couldn't stop the Yeerk from operating me like a machine.

"It's cool," Jake said. "I didn't realize it was so much fun."

The Yeerks couldn't have him. They could have anyone else - literally, anyone else - but not him!

"Well, that's not all it is," the Yeerk said through me. "I mean, it's more than just fun. The Sharing can do all kinds of things for you. Once you're a full member."

"How do you get to be a full member?" Jake asked.

No, please no. He was actually interested. If there was ever a time I needed to get control of body back, it needed to be now. Right now! I had to warn him. I had to say, Don't join! Don't join!!

Instead, the Yeerk used my mouth to say, "Oh, that will come later. First, you become an associate member. Later the leaders will decide whether to ask you to become a full member."

I used all my willpower. I fought so hard to regain control. To send Jake some of warning. To just say some words, shake my head, make a frown, ANYTHING!

You can't have him!! Not Jake!! LEAVE MY BROTHER ALONE!!

My mouth smiled. "Once you become a full member . . . the whole world changes."

With every last bit of strength I had, and strength I didn't even know I had, I tried to shake my head and scream, "DON'T JOIN THE SHARING!!"

And something actually happened.

My head twitched. Just a little. Just a spasm. Just a tug of my mouth to the side and a crease of my eyebrows.

But it wasn't the Yeerk. It was me.

I did that.

For the very first time, I moved my body against Temrash 114's will.

But it was only for an instant. After that split-second, the Yeerk slammed down control and returned my face to normal. I felt his anger. He was furious at me for showing such defiance.

But on the outside, he simply used my mouth to say, "I have to go for a while now. The full members have a separate meeting. You guys stay here and have fun. Have some more of that barbeque. It's great, isn't it?"

I could see Jake looking at me, wide-eyed and innocent. Then my body turned and walked away.

I was exhausted. It was such a strain to fight against the Yeerk. Even if Temrash 114 gave up and allowed me to use my body now, I wasn't sure I'd have any energy left to move around or speak clearly.

And I was more than exhausted. I was miserable. All that effort, all the mental anguish I put into it, and I only regained control for a fraction of a second. Even at my very best, all I managed was a tiny twitch in my face.

Jake probably didn't even notice . . .

#animorphs #the invasion #tom berenson #jake berenson #yeerks #fanfiction #fanfic #tumblr fanfic #deleted scene #long post #angst #animorphs fanfic #tom my darling #repost from ao3 #reposting this with minor edits

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cheesethecheesier · 10 months ago

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The Butterflies In My Stomach

Albedo/Sucrose/Kaeya/Rosaria

Sucrose stood in the lab as her long green hair was tied into a simple ponytail that fell down her back. She had just finished up on one of her experiments and was cleaning it up. Once she was finished she had slid off her gloves and had put them in her bag.

There was a knock at the door and then the knob turned. She could tell who was there from the quiet steps of his boots. She had gazed at him and quietly greeted him as he walked in. Her heart was pounding in her ears and she could tell he was saying something from the movement of his lips, but she couldn’t focus on what the words were.

“Um.. see you Mister Albedo!” She dashed out of the lab and into the hall, stopping to breathe.

She could barely be around, not since that night.

The night when she didn't knock on the lab door and saw Albedo kissing Kaeya. The night when her heart was broken. When she stood in the open doorway and saw Kaeya leaned over the table as he kissed Albedo. She closed the door swiftly that night. She thought they didn’t know.

Since that night, Sucrose had been struggling talking with them, or looking them in the eye.

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

She left the Favonius hall, left and the stone walls of Mondstat to sit and rest in the nearby valleys of green grass. She felt conflicted, one half of her was happy that Albedo was with someone that made him happy but the other half of her was upset that it wasn’t her kissing Albedo… or was she upset that she wasn’t kissing Kaeya…

Oh Albedo, how to describe him. He made her heart flutter and butterflies build up in her stomach whenever she was with him. A perfect painting that put Sucrose to shame.

And Kaeya… he was charming, and he had definitely made her blush once or twice. But he flirts with everyone doesn’t he?

Sucrose rubbed her eyes and let herself focus on the world around her, to her right sat the cavalry captain. She yelped in surprise when she noticed him and he just smiled at her and quietly chuckled.

“It's good to see you.” He says his voice felt like honey to her ears.

“Oh… uh did you need anything?” She asks in a very quiet voice.

“No, I didn’t need anything, I just wanted to sit with you.” He smirked that devilish, handsome smirk. It made her heart beat faster.

“Oh- Okay.” She says and turns her head to look at the flowers in the field in front of her as they danced in the wind. She didn’t say anything to Kaeya and he didn’t say anything either.

After a few minutes, Sucrose stands up and brushes off her thighs.

“Are you trying to get away from me?” Kaeya asked, his voice having a hint of arrogance.

“Umm!” Sucrose’s face flushed and she covered it in embarrassment.

“Calm down, I’m just teasing.” He says as he stands up now slightly towering over her.

“Where are you headed?” He asks and smirks.

“Back to the knights.” She says, that’s a lie, she’s going back to springvale to head home but, she doesn’t want to say that.

“I’ll escort you.” He pauses. “If you let me of course.”

“Hm… fine.” She says, her ears twitch, he offers her his hand, and she reluctantly takes it. He leads her from the fields back into Mondstat’s walls. The pair walked through Mondstat and to the Knights, Kaeya stopped at the door.

“Well, I’ll be heading to Angel’s Share, I had a wonderful time with you Sucrose.” He says and lifts her hand up to his face and gently kisses her knuckle. He walks off leaving Sucrose a confused, blushing mess.

She quickly walks into the hall and then to the lab, knocking on the door before turning the knob.

She walks in, noticing Albedo is strangely gone. She walks over to her workspace and washes her hands, then carefully puts her gloves over her hands. She quickly gets to work on understanding the elemental reactions between elemental cores and whopperflower acid.

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

In about an hour as she works she hears two quick knocks on the door. She puts down her materials and goes to answer the door.

Lisa was there, a small notebook in her hands.

“Oh Sucrose, I was hoping you’d be here!” She said her voice was cheery.

“Ah yes, Miss Lisa, um… What do you need?” She asks, looking at Lisa curiously.

“I noticed that you left one of your notebooks in the library and I read through it…” She says, her voice dragging.

“It turns out that you write more than just alchemic inquiries in your notes.” She chuckled and smiled at Sucrose.

“Miss Lisa! Please don’t tell him!” She says her voice sounding panicked and her face full of worry.

She laughs again, “Don’t be silly Sucrose, your secret is safe with me.” She smiles and lifts up Sucrose’s hat to ruffle her hair. Sucrose squirms away from her touch.

“Well here’s your notebook, I have a date with Jean tonight.” She says and places the notebook into Sucrose’s arms. Sucrose watched Lisa briskly walk away and went back into the lab. Placing the notebook on her work table, she takes off her gloves and washes her hands before beginning to walk home.

Unfortunately on her way it began to rain, and Sucrose had forgotten her umbrella. She took off her coat and reached to cover her head when the rain seemingly stopped. She looks around to see the thorned nun herself.

“Ah! Oh… it’s just you Rosaria. It’s good to see you.” She smiles softly, Rosaria makes a grunting noise.

“Thank you for the cover.” Sucrose says softly and puts back on her coat.

Sucrose had always found Rosaria pretty, short maroon hair, pale almost sick looking skin and the various scars that covered her skin. It was a strange kind of beautiful almost vampiric.

“Hm, no problem, I was on my way to Angel’s Share, my shift just ended.” Her voice is quiet and monotonous, and her eyes have a look of daggers.

“If… if you don’t mind can you walk me home?” Sucrose asks shyly.

“Of course.” Rosaria says, reaching to take Sucrose’s hand and she begins to walk her home. After a couple minutes of walking and minimal conversation the two eventually reach Sucrose’s home.

“Thank you Rosaria.” Sucrose says softly. Rosaria nods and walks away into the dark, rainy night.

Sucrose walks in her home and changes into a simple off white nightgown. She crawls under the covers of her bed and falls into a light sleep.

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

The dawn arrives and Sucrose has gotten little sleep, with the pounding of rain, the occasional crash of thunder and the chronic loneliness she felt, she got little sleep. She sighs and gets dressed. She grabs herself a quick cup of coffee and runs off to go to knight’s.

She knocks on the lab door and walks in to see Albedo working on something at his desk. She walks over to her desks and begins to work on her projects.

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

A few hours pass, and she feels a gentle tap on her back. She sits up and looks around, looking confused.

“You're awake.” Albedo whispers softly, removing his hand from Sucrose’s back.

“What happened?” She asks, turning to look at him and his icy blue eyes.

“You had fallen asleep, I had to let you sleep, but since it’s about noon I felt I should wake you.” He says.

Sucrose laughs awkwardly, “Ah… oops.” She says softly, just hearing his voice made her heart pound.

“Sucrose, would you like to eat lunch with Rosaria, Kaeya and I?” He asks. Sucrose feels the butterflies again.

“I… sure.” She says and Albedo reaches down to gently take her hand. She blushes and follows him out of the lab.

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

Kaeya and Rosaria were sitting at a small table in front of the Good Hunter. Albedo and Sucrose take a seat across from each other.

“So- Albedo have you asked yet?” Kaeya asks, a smirk on his face.

“No Kaeya, I was waiting until everyone was together.” Albedo says and Rosaria reaches over to take Sucrose’s hand.

“Sucrose, will you join our relationship?” Albedo asks, all three of them are looking at Sucrose. She looks surprised.

“Wait… all three of you are together?” She asks, looking incredibly confused. Kaeya laughs and smiles at Sucrose.

“Yes Sucrose, all three of us are together, and we want you to be our forth.” He says a flirtatious grin on his face. Sucrose blushes at the realization and quickly covers her face with her hands.

“Sucrose?” Rosaria checks on Sucrose in her embarrassed state.

“Yes!” She says excitedly and giddily. She moves the hands from her face to see three welcoming and loving smiles directed at her.

Honestly for Sucrose this didn’t feel real, but at least the butterflies are gone.

#repost from ao3 #alberose #sucrose #albedo #kaeya #rosaria #genshin impact #kaebedo #honestly not to proud of this but thought i would post it anyways #why argue ships when they could all be dating #honestly this reads like the early part of an otome game :/#oneshot

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beholdenlie · 3 months ago

Text

with blood, with love (chapter one)

fandom: elden ring

characters: white mask varré x original female character

tags: NSFW (later chapters), unhealthy relationship dynamics, violence, dub con themes, uh...blood.

author's note: repost from ao3. it’s my dream that one kind soul will eventually make fanart of this because I can’t draw to save my life.

Wounded, bleeding, and lost in the swamps of Liurnia, the brave Tarnished Enreila stumbles upon the Rose Church and White Mask Varré. That’s probably not a good thing.

Enreila knew she’d made a mistake venturing into the swamps of Liurnia. No matter that the supposed guidance of grace—that damned infuriating golden light—stubbornly pointed her in their direction.

The thick fog wrapped around Enreila like a damp blanket, unrelenting in the way it obscured her vision. She couldn’t see more than a few inches in front of her face at a time, didn’t see the hulking form of a land octopus until it was much too late. The massive creature swiped at her with one heavy tentacle, cutting into her side and knocking her off her feet.

Enreila’s head struck a stray bit of rubble, most likely a remnant of an ancient ruin, fallen from the sky. Her vision blurred and nausea threatened to overtake her as she scrabbled for purchase against the mud and slimy vegetation beneath her.

The slick slide of tentacles reached Enreila’s ears and pure instinct had her reaching for the pouch of throwing knives she kept strapped to her thigh. Blinking past the sweat and putrid water dripping down her face, Enreila squared her shoulders as best she could and aimed at the creature’s face, the only part of its body not covered in a thick layer of rock-like scales.

She let a knife fly and the blade struck true, sinking into the land octopus’ eye. The creature shrieked and flailed its tentacles furiously as Enreila rolled to her feet. She wasn’t quick enough though, and a stray tentacle struck her chest. Not as hard as the one that had sliced open her side, but hard enough to knock her back a few steps, to cause the air to escape her lungs with a pained grunt.

“Damn you, beast,” Enreila gasped. She reached for another knife and then another, throwing each one with precision, striking the land octopus’ face repeatedly. Though her knives could do some damage, could perhaps kill a lesser creature with a single, well-aimed throw, Enreila wasn’t kidding herself that they could fell a full grown land octopus. But she persisted. Refused to die here in this wretched swamp. Or, if she had to die, she would, at the very least, put up a good fight.

As she was nearing the last of her throwing knives, the creature let out one last enraged shriek before—by some miracle—it scuttled away from Enreila and disappeared back into the fog.

Perhaps she had wounded it enough. Perhaps she had frightened it. Enreila didn’t want to think about the alternatives. Didn’t want to consider that something else could be lurking beyond the fog, something terrifying enough to scare a creature as fearsome as what she had just faced.

Enreila waited in silence for several breaths, clamping down on the pained groan she longed to loose from her throat. She waited long enough to ascertain that the land octopus was indeed gone, that nothing else was creeping up towards her through the fog.

All at once the adrenaline left her and Enreila dropped to her knees, clutching at her side. She hissed as she carefully prodded around her wound, throbbing painfully with every heartbeat, and her hand came away bloody. The creature’s rocky scales seemed to have cut deep. Enreila automatically reached for the healing flask she kept at her belt and let out a quiet, dismayed groan when she held it up to her face and saw that it was empty.

Of course. She’d been so preoccupied with her miserable trudge through this gods-forsaken swamp that she’d forgotten to keep an eye out for any sign of the strange, isolated merchants she’d often found dotted throughout these lands. Enreila would have laughed at her carelessness if she wasn’t in so much pain.

Rummaging through another pouch strapped to her waist, Enreila’s fingers brushed against her remaining boluses, one used for stanching blood loss and the other to help slow the spread of poison. She took both into her palm and, bracing herself, shoved the perfectly round boluses into her mouth. She cringed as the acrid taste of them seemed to sear straight through her tongue, but managed to swallow before the taste could linger any longer.

Enreila glanced down at her side. The flow of blood had slowed, but not completely. She’d need proper healing. And soon.

She gritted her teeth in frustration. Persistent as it was, the shimmering light of grace hadn’t revealed itself to her in quite some time. Not since she’d arrived in Liurnia, at least. Perhaps the golden rays had misguided her. Or perhaps she'd only mistaken the direction in which grace had pointed her. Enreila didn’t know, but she couldn’t very well sit around and wait to bleed to death.

Enreila slowly dragged herself to a standing position, head spinning with the residual pain of her wound. I must find the guidance of grace again, she thought desperately. I must.

***

Around her, the swamp slowly turned into a shade of sickly yellow.

Enreila’s brow was slicked with cold sweat, the pain radiating from her wound almost maddening in its intensity. The effects of the boluses had long since worn off and she had to practically drag herself through the mud that sucked at her now-ruined boots.

She hadn’t run into any more land octopuses, but neither had she seen any merchants, nor the gentle, shimmering light that marked a site of grace, those sacred places that served as sanctuaries for Tarnished like Enreila. If she could find such a place, she could return to the Roundtable Hold. She could request healing from Brother Coryhn. She could make the choice to never return to Liurnia again and start her quest anew.

But the yellowing of the landscape around her meant the sun was rapidly setting, a thought that sent a shiver skittering down her spine. Enreila knew what manner of creature roamed the swamps at night. Emaciated men who rode half-rotted horses and, accompanying them, the ringing of bells.

And when those bells rang, more rotted creatures emerged from the depths of the swamp, summoned to stalk and hunt and kill.

Of course, Enreila could call upon Torrent, her spectral steed. He might carry her for a while. But she highly doubted that he could guide her safely from the swamp, not when she was so weak, so close to losing consciousness. Not when she possessed no map, nor no knowledge of the area. She hadn’t thought it necessary. After all, Enreila could see the guidance of grace, couldn’t she?

Enreila would have wept if she had the energy to spare. Instead, a weak and worryingly wet laugh escaped her lips. At least she still had that. She had never wanted to cry when facing certain Death. Had promised herself, no matter what, she wouldn’t cry. She’d laugh instead. Laugh right in Death’s face.

Slowly, Enreila came to a stop, falling once again to her knees. She could barely manage to lift her head, but she did, wanting to gaze at something other than the jaundiced swamp around her before she lost consciousness.

As she tilted her head back, something snagged at her attention. There, only a short distance away, the remains of a ruin shimmered into focus. Enreila recognized the architecture almost at once, the way a steeple still stood, reaching upwards, seeming to pierce the sky.

Enreila let out a breath, wincing weakly at how such a small action made her wound twinge in protest. She blinked hard, once, and then another time, only to ensure she wasn’t hallucinating. And when she determined that the ruins were, in fact, a church, and not some figment of her imagination, she dragged herself to her feet once more.

“Only a little farther,” she muttered to herself. “Only…a little…”

Enreila fell. But she wouldn’t—no, she couldn’t—let herself drift away now. Using her arms, Enreila began to drag herself forward and slowly, impossibly, the ruined church drew closer.

“Almost…there.” Enreila didn’t know if she was saying the words out loud, or if she was only imagining them. It didn’t matter. Her arms were about to give out, but she was nearly there.

Black spots had begun to dot her vision, starting out as little pinpricks but growing at an alarming pace until they threatened to obscure her vision entirely. It was then that Enreila stopped. Not because she could no longer see, but because a figure had suddenly appeared before her, nearly two feet away from where she was desperately dragging herself through mud and water and rock.

Enreila blinked in confusion.

So bright. It was all she could manage to think in her pain-addled state. The figure before her was so bright and still, she almost thought it a statue. Or perhaps some spirit had found its way to her, so as to carry her to Death.

“Ah, my little lambkin.” The figure spoke softly, yet there was an edge to the voice that had Enreila flinching back, despite the agony the movement caused her. “Now what have you gone and done to yourself?”

Enreila opened her mouth, thinking to respond, but she could force no words from her throat. Only a soft sigh left her—a sound of utter defeat, she thought—before complete darkness finally engulfed her.

#elden ring fanfic #white mask varre #white faced varre #elden ring varre #varre #varre x tarnished #all the varre tags mkay?#repost from ao3 #header by me #divider source: @cafekitsune #varre x og female character #cw blood

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indigolover97 · 5 months ago

Text

We’re Dripping In It

Chapter 2: Standing Next to You

Jungkook groaned as a light beam hit his face, he buried his face into the pillow under him and took a long whiff of the laundry detergent Taehyung liked to use. He blinked and looked around the room in confusion, not remembering being moved last night from the studio. He gazed around at the guest room in Yoongi and Taehyung’s penthouse, taking note of the empty spaces from when he used to live in this room.

He had expected Taehyung to have set up his art studio in here, like he said he would, but the room still looked as empty as when he moved out. He sat up and rubbed the sleep out of his eyes as the smells of food drifted through the crack in the door. He could hear movement from inside the kitchen and moved off the bed to see who was awake.

He turned the corner of the hallway and saw Yoongi hard at work at the stove. Jungkook’s unruly hair smacked him in the face as he went to sit at the breakfast counter that looked into the kitchen.

“Morning, Jungkook-ah.” Yoongi greeted, placing a hot cup of coffee in front of him.

“Thank you, hyung.” Jungkook murmured after a sip, clearing his throat from the roughness of sleep.

Yoongi shrugged, “Think nothing of it, our guest room is always open to you.”

He turned back to the stove and started setting food onto three plates when Taehyung wanders in, he drowsily places a kiss on Yoongi’s forehead before reaching for the steaming cup of tea his husband hands him.

“Do you have class today, Kookie?” Taehyung asks, his voice like gravel as he sips his steaming mug. The two of them sit on either side of Jungkook as Yoongi sets their plates of food down on the counter. They start eating as Jungkook pulls out his phone to look at his schedule.

“I just have a Math class at one o’clock, then its torture time with Hobi-hyung.”

Yoongi and Taehyung both chuckle at Jungkook’s groan of pain at the very idea of more hours in the studio with his dance mentor.

“I can drive you to class,” Taehyung offers, tossing Jungkook’s protests aside. “I have an errand to run on that side of town anyway, I won’t be able to pick you up after class but I can at least give you a ride there.”

“Thanks hyung, I appreciate it.” Jungkook murmurs, smiling widely when Taehyung simply ruffles his hair affectionately before continuing to devour his food.

Taehyung doesn’t let Jungkook leave the apartment without insisting that his sweaty pants and shirt need to be put through a wash. And that he will absolutely not be going to class smelling like a gym.

Jungkook finds himself being forced into a pair of dark blue ripped jeans and a semi-fitting white T-shirt, nothing like the black baggy clothes he usually wears. He slips the leather jacket over his shoulders as they head out the door. His clunky boots hitting the pavement with surety now that its warmth encases him.

Jungkook tries not to shrink at the double glances he gets as he makes his way across campus, Taehyung really had to take their flashiest red convertible to drop him off at the entrance. And his yell of ‘Have a good day at school, Kookie baby!’ did not help matters at all. Thankfully he wasn’t approached by anyone and Jimin wasn’t at the school to tease him, but it was one of the more embarrassing moments he’s had in a while.

As he makes his way back to the studio after class. He unconsciously begins to hum his song as he walks. Completely absorbed by going through the choreography in his head that he almost steps into a busy street, only to be yanked back by a swift hand.

“Why do I always seem to find you nearly getting in trouble, little one?” A chuckle sounds from a very familiar source.

“I seem to be a magnet for it,” Jungkook grumbles, making the man chuckle even more. “Thanks for the rescue, I don’t think even being plastered across the pavement would’ve saved me from my hyung’s wrath for being late for dance practice. So, you’ve really saved me twice today.”

“You dance?” The man quirks an eyebrow at him, slowly releasing the grip he had on Jungkook’s wrist.

Jungkook nods with a slight shrug, “It’s a fun hobby.”

“An interesting hobby, I’d say. Any good?”

“I’m not sure what would classify as good when it comes to dancing,” Jungkook says, trying to be diplomatic, but there’s a look in the mystery man’s eyes that makes him blurt out. “If you want to see for yourself, I’m performing at D-Town this Saturday at 12 o’clock. Do you know the club?”

A smirk forms on the man’s face, amusement colors his tone. “I’ve heard of it, Saturday you say.” He hums at Jungkook’s confirming nod. “I think I can make that, if you promise me a drink after your performance. I’ll give you my honest review then.”

Jungkook blushes and decides to be a bit cheeky, “I’ll agree to a drink, if I can get a name for the one buying it.”

The cheekiness seems to have paid off, the man bursts out into a delighted laughter, his dimples coming out in full force and his eyes crinkling into craters. Jungkook can’t help but smile at the man’s delight.

“You can call me Namjoon,” he answers, still smiling. “And I’ll get your name on Saturday.”

“Looking forward to it, Namjoon-ssi.” Jungkook says with a matching smile.

“Just Namjoon, little one.” He corrects before turning to walk down the street. Jungkook watches his retreating back until he completely disappears into the crowd. With a skip in his step he continues his way to the studio, more determined than ever to get the choreo perfect for Saturday night.

Jungkook spends the whole evening driving himself hard through practice and if Hobi is at all surprised by his sudden burst of energy, he doesn’t show it. He simply drives them harder to get it just right and praises them when they nail it. By the end of the night they’ve begun incorporating Jungkook actually singing the song and Hobi concludes the practice very pleased with their results.

“I believe after tomorrow you will be ready for that stage,” He tells Jungkook confidently, patting him on the shoulder as they part ways at the door.

Jungkook, after much persuading, stays with Taehyung and Yoongi again but only after stopping by his apartment for some spare clothes. He spends the whole of Friday meticulously singing his lyrics until he feels he knows them backwards and forwards. The last run of the choreo they do for the day is on the actual stage in D-Town, as Friday is their day off. Hobi takes full advantage of the empty space.

“It feels different on the stage as well,” He explains as they get themselves into formation. “You need to get a feel for it before performing to a live audience.”

Hobi is right, there is a whole different feeling to being on the stage, even if they are looking out to an empty bar and dance floor. Jungkook has never felt anything so electric as he performs, an actual mic in his hands as he sings through the dance. The sound of clapping resounds across the room as they end the practice run.

“Brava! Brava!” Taehyung yells as he runs across the dance floor. “You’re gonna kill them tomorrow, Kookie!”

Jungkook laughs as Taehyung bounds onto the stage and pulls him into a tight hug, he pretends to whine about being all sweaty as he clutches his hyung right back. He spies Yoongi walking across the dance floor with lazy steps and a gummy smile on his lips as he looks up at them.

“I look forward to seeing the real deal tomorrow night, Jungkook-ah.” He says, holding out a hand for the pair to jump down from the stage. He pats Jungkook's shoulder as they walk towards the private elevator. Jungkook waves to his dancers before following his hyungs onto it, leaning against the railing as they rise up to the penthouse.

“Go shower before dinner, Kook, you can sleep after we’ve fed you.” Taehyung snickers as he drags Jungkook out of the elevator and pushes him into the spare bathroom.

Jungkook falls into the guest bed with wet, fluffy hair and a belly full of food, feeling more amped up for tomorrow night than ever before.

Taehyung insists on dressing Jungkook himself on the big day, he bats away any of Jungkook’s feeble protests.

“I won’t hear it Kookie, you need to look banger tonight.” He says, tossing clothes down on his and Yoongi’s bed as he goes through his closet. He makes Jungkook try on various pairs of pants and shirt combos until he’s satisfied. Somehow it comes out to be a more simple outfit than he was expecting.

“You don’t need to be too flashy, your talent is what’s going to shine the brightest tonight.” Taehyung says over his shoulder as they gaze into the mirror together.

He has Jungkook in a black pair of dress pants and a black belt that cinches his small waist. The boots he wears almost disappear into the pants, but are practical for all the dancing he’s about to do. Then there’s the shirt, it’s simple and white but cut into a low V that nearly parts completely between his pecs. The short sleeves make his sleeve of tattoos on his right arm more prominent.

“Simple is better,” Taehyung states firmly, handing Jungkook some dangly earrings to put in his various piercings. “And you make simple look smoking hot.”

“Thanks hyung,” Jungkook says with a smile, butterflies fluttering in his stomach as he steps out of the room.

The hours tick by so slowly that Jungkook fears he’ll tear a hole in the hardwood floors of Taehyung and Yoongi’s apartment with his pacing. It’s not until Hobi comes up to fetch him and he’s standing behind the curtain of the stage, surrounded by his dancers and hearing the sounds of the crowd, that he begins to feel calmer.

He takes a deep breath, vaguely hears Hobi give some word of encouragement and pats him on the shoulder, before it's time to go out. And the music starts. And everything fades in the background.

“Play me slow, push up on this funk and give me miracles,” Jungkook sings into the mic, staring out into the crowd on the dance floor.

Jungkook feeds off the energy of the crowd, it’s nothing and everything like they’ve practiced. Every movement is fluid and seamless. Jungkook doesn’t miss a beat as he sings and his eyes, they can’t help but meet another pair of dark ones from across the club. It doesn’t distract him, no, it fuels him through the song to have those eyes on him.

The moment where he sets down his mic for the choreography he can almost feel the look he gives the crowd ‘you see how I dance with the mic?’ he seems to say ‘now see me without it’. Then he’s off and the crowd goes absolutely wild.

“Standing next to you,” Jungkook sings after picking up the mic, ending the song with a bow to the screaming crowd. There’s a pause to take in the applause then the stage goes dark and Jungkook follows his dancers off the stage.

Taehyung nearly tackles him as he comes around the curtain, Jungkook laughs as his hyung bounces them around for a moment before helping him get loose from the wires in his ears. Hobi pats his shoulder before going to each of the dancers to give his congratulations to them. Jungkook listens to Taehyung ramble on about how well he did while he cleans off the sweat from his face, but all he can think about is the pair of dark eyes that followed him throughout the song. Yoongi pulls him aside just before he’s about to walk out into the club.

“Someone is waiting for you in the VIP section, said his name is Namjoon.” Yoongi whispers to him, his eyes glittering with something that Jungkook doesn’t understand. Yoongi gives Jungkook an approving nod, wiping the confused expression on his face.

“Thanks hyung, for everything tonight.” Jungkook breaths, pulling the older man into a quick hug before darting towards the VIP section that sits on the second story overlooking the stage and dance floor.

The bouncer at the front nods to Jungkook and opens the door for him. The glass encased room is practically empty as he steps in and the sounds of the club below are muffled when the door closes. Jungkook spots Namjoon leaning against the bar that looks down over the stage. Their eyes meet across the room and Jungkook feels himself being drawn in until he’s standing next to him.

“When you said you danced,” Namjoon greets with a sly smile as Jungkook slides into the seat. “I wasn’t quite expecting that. I’m very impressed, little one.”

“Enough to buy me that drink?” Jungkook asks with a smirk.

“Of course,” Namjoon laughs as he calls the bartender over. “And to get your name.”

“Jungkook, Jeon Jungkook.” He answers, then gives his order to the bartender and takes a sip of it before setting it down on the bar.

“Jungkook,” Namjoon says his name slowly, like he’s tasting it on his tongue. “It’s nice to meet you, Jungkook.”

“Likewise, Namjoon.” He replies with a smile, sliding his hand into Namjoon’s offered one to shake. Their hands linger for a moment before they settle into the bar booths and sip on their drinks.

“So other than dancing, what are your other ‘hobbies’ as you call them.” Namjoon asks, a slow, easy smile on his face.

Jungkook snickers, “What would you call it then?”

“Raw untapped talent.” Namjoon says at once, smiling at Jungkook’s wide eyes. “I call it like I see it and I so rarely see a talent like yours. And you said it’s your first performance?”

Jungkook nods and blushes at Namjoon’s disbelieving scoff. “It’s true, this was my first time ever being on a stage. In front of a crowd. It’s the first song I’ve ever written myself, then performed it.”

“Song writer. Singer. Dancer. Is there anything you can’t do?” Namjoon asks incredulously, probably sarcastically, but Jungkook pretends to ponder it for a moment.

“I don’t know how to fly a plane, or play the violin.” He says with wide, blinking eyes and a sly smile. Namjoon looks utterly endeared by it.

“Probably couldn’t do brain surgery either, now that I think about it.” Jungkook adds as an afterthought, making Namjoon laugh, Jungkook joins him with a low snicker.

“You are truly something else, Jungkook.” He says, gazing at him with deep adoration. “I don’t think I’ve laughed this hard in years.”

“Ah you’re welcome,” Jungkook says with a small smile, glad to have brought some joy into the man’s life.

They spend the next few hours of the night and early morning just talking. Jungkook finds Namjoon to be an interesting person to talk to. And he’s shocked to find how much they have in common regarding art and music tastes. Jungkook has never met someone that he’s so easily fallen into conversation with.

By the time closing hours have approached, they’ve gravitated to sit on one of the long couches that line the VIP room and have been debating animatedly about the benefits of synthetic grass.

“Even if it were to help the environment and water intake of the city. You are still ripping up the earth and soil to put down plastic grass that serves no purpose, beyond not consuming water.” Jungkook protests passionately as he gestures with his hands at Namjoon.

“We’re in the middle of drought, what would your solution be to lower the amount of water Seoul consumes?” Namjoon asks, leaning his head into his hand on the ledge of the couch as he looks at Jungkook.

“I would first see where the water consumption is at its greatest and find a way to limit that first. Before trying to put synthetic grass in everybody's yard.” Jungkook huffs, rolling his eyes when Namjoon laughs but is unable to keep the smile off his face for long.

“Do you have a guess as to where the most consumption would be?” Namjoon asks, his eyes crinkling like half moons as he smiles.

“If I had to give a random guess it would have to be bath houses.” Jungkook says with a nod. “Public bath houses would have to consume a ton of water for their customers. To ensure proper hygiene they would, not only, have to clean their facilities regularly but also have clean water inside the tubs. I’m sure some do a good job of recycling and filtering their water supplies but that wouldn’t account for all of them.”

Namjoon hums in agreement, “And what would your solution to that be?”

Jungkook hums in thought, “In an ideal world? A central piping system for public bath houses that filters and recycles the water across Seoul. The amount of water needed for, let’s say, a hundred bath houses is calculated. Then stored in a facility that pumps, filters, and recycles that water for all of them. Any unusable water can be transported to farms, as long as it’s been tested to be safe to return to the soil.”

“And if it isn’t?”

Jungkook waves his hand in a general direction, “We do have an ocean you know, it can return to there to be purified by natural causes. There should probably be a study on the lasting effects of adding dirty bath water to the oceans, though.”

Namjoon chuckles, bringing Jungkook out of his rambling thoughts, “Your mind is a very interesting place, little one. I’m glad I’m getting a chance to get to know it.”

Jungkook desperately wanted to counter his words with something witty or clever but a wide yawn broke across his face before any words could form on his tongue. Namjoon chuckled and ran a gentle hand through Jungkook’s ever growing dark hair.

“Tired, little one?” He smiled at Jungkook’s sleepy, happy hum of reply as his eyes fluttered closed under his hand. “Let’s get you to bed then, hmm.”

“I’m staying with hyung and Tae, they live upstairs.” Jungkook murmured sleepily, as Namjoon helped him to his feet. He must have been more tired than he thought, because Namjoon caught him around the waist before he toppled over from standing.

“I’ll take you up to them then,” Namjoon said easily and waited for Jungkook’s hum of agreement before sweeping him up into his arms.

Jungkook is barely aware of leaning his head against Namjoon’s neck. Or of the steps he takes inside the empty club towards the elevators. Or when they arrived inside Yoongi and Taehyung’s apartment. There is a gentle murmur of voices that causes him to snuggle deeper into the warmth that encases him, then he’s being moved again and feels himself being lowered onto a soft surface.

A hand brushed through his hair, Jungkook leans into the gentle touch.

“I’ll see you again soon, little one.” A gentle voice whispers above him, then he falls asleep.

#ao3 writer #fanfic #ao3 fanfic #bts fanfction #fanfiction #bts #college au #mafia au #namkook #taegi #link in pinned post #daily post #repost from Ao3

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roxnpens · 2 years ago

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Firefly

Chapter One: Rumble in the far

[Silco x f!reader] [gore] [blood][angst] (all other tags follow as the story progresses 🙃😉)

_______________

Fic Summary:

You’re a youngster of the Undercity, dreaming of a better world.

By chance you get an opportunity that will change your life.

A revolution will take place - will it change the world you live in … or will it change your destiny?

The story takes place before the occurrences in the Arcane animation. You are a young woman entering the Revolution, which should finally save the Undercity from their oppressors. However, in this revolution you will find more than revolutionaries, colleagues, friends... you will meet a man who will be your closest confidant. Your everything.

Taglist: @juniper-sunny @deny-the-issue @fantadym @mmartos @astudyincontrasts @averagecrastinator @ace-of-zaun @artwithvivien @zaunitekiwi @x-amount-verbs @chaoticlicense @silcosentropy @silcoitus

Can you hear me?

Sleeping in the shadows, could be making history

(Walk) through the fire, (walking) on the water

Used to be a slave, but now you are a conqueror

The Lanes.

Some people consider it the most filthy, disgusting place in all of Runeterra. Some people have another name for the city across the shiny, powerful metropole named Piltover.

Home.

You’re one of those people. You grew up in this dump, filled with the failures, the gamblers and the Lost. In the city where the possibilities of having a good life are as limited as the knowledge about good manners.

Like many of the kids born in the Undercity, you had a rough start into this world, your mom worked as a bartender while your father sat at the other side of the counter. Yup - your daddy dear was a drunk at this time. Whenever something didn’t go the way he wanted or you were playing too loud with your nice little red ball, he gave you a good beating. Sometimes when you’re vast asleep in your own bed, you still could feel the rough calluses from his mine worker hands. In the very beginning of your life those were the hands that cheered you up, as you fell down on your knees. The hands that had mined minerals and ores on a daily basis. The hands that protected you, while they still had work to plunge into.

When your father lost his job, your mom and you quickly became the subjects of your father's wrath. But what really broke your little world, was when your family discovered that you’re able to cast magic - “arcane magic” as some Piltover douches called it. And your father couldn’t think of something smarter, than to sell you for an extremely low price and break your mom's heart. The buyers on the other hand… well…

You had to leave the Lanes, to be observed, trained and … yeah - even tortured by those Piltover douches. You learned the hard way, that you can trust only a few people and sometimes just yourself. After 15 years of training, missions and a lot of hurt and crying, you finally made it out of there and returned to the Lanes.

By then it was much too late when you found out that your mom died soon after you left, because she drowned the loss of her daughter in booze. Your father followed soon - he died of a broken heart, they said… not that you really cared about that asshole anymore. So in the end you could never really come home… because there was no “home” anymore…

You had to learn every rule of the Undercity anew, because you’ve been away so long. Every little trick, every single Undercity manners - just everything. You kept yourself living, with little jobs - which could hide your background of a well trained killer, who lived quite a while in Piltover.

You had a hard time adjusting to your actual home again… but when you made it, you had a good name around the bar- and club scene. You took a good amount of pride in your timekeeping, accurate way of working and a little bit in your trained body.

The mud under your leather boots make a wet sound, as you walk your way through the small alleys on your way home from work. The work you lost, because the owner wanted a “favor” for keeping you in his service. A favor including your body. The blood of his broken nose dripped from your clenched fist as you walked out the bar, where you worked as a bartender. You really liked working there - the patrons were generous and polite, you got paid in time and there was always backup for the ugly situations.

But when your employer had the audacity to ask for your body in exchange for a safe working place - you kinda lost it. Damn your temper sometimes. At the same time you could feel a well known knot placing heavy strings around your heart and squeezing it painfully.

Situations like that happen all the time, when your employer is a man from the Lanes - at some point they either ask you to work for less money, cause they can’t afford to pay you the full wage or they have enough money… but they think money can buy willingness.

But you are not someone to be bought… at least not anymore…

Your black and red coat is soaked with the rain pulling in long heavy strings from the clouded sky and you’re glad to have picked the black pants made from a thicker, more water resistant material. You still have two problems pending in your head at the moment: you still have a long way home AND you need a new job, or your lunch plate for tomorrow will stay empty. You filled your lungs deep with the polluted air of the Undercity and it left your lungs in a sigh of hopelessness. You hate your situation, you hate people like your former boss and you absolutely HATE that the Lanes are never going to change…

Perhaps you should consider the offer of becoming an entrance guard in front of one of the many new night clubs.

You shook your head under the hood of your jacket. No you do many things for money,…but this might be a bad idea considering…

“Oi Lassi!”

The rather deep voice of a man shouting at you from the side of the road makes you jump out of your skin and instinctively grab the hilt of the knife that's hanging hidden on your outer left thigh. Your adrenaline already sends you into a fight-or-flight mode, you try to locate the man whom that voice belongs to. Just like the killer that you’ve been trained to be. You suggest that it could be a goon of the bar-owner you just beat the crap out of, but are surprised to see a young, broad-shouldered and good looking man. His confident, yet relaxed step tells you that he’s either very unbothered about the people staring at him or that he means no harm. Since you can’t say anything for sure, you still keep your grip on the knife, but hide the tension in your body as the man approaches. He has short brown hair and wears typical miners clothing, a torn greenish shirt and thick brown pants. His body is very defined and his t-shirt tenses over his well used bizeps. The outfit is rounded up by some worne miners boots that have a strong metal tip.

“May I ask you something?“, he asks with a smile on his face - an emotion you rarely see in the Lanes.

The situation is still surreal, so you try to answer him the best way your mind can manage, while you position yourself sideways to him, ready to swiftly strike like a viper, still in an inner fight mode and answer: “Depends…”

He laughs - a deep, reverberating laugh, which makes your chest rumble and you involuntarily step back a few steps.

After laughing he holds his muscled midsection and states: “ Damn Lassi, you really remind me of a friend.”

Your suspicious look makes him turn serious again and he rises to his full height, towering over you by a good head and a half.

“But I actually wanted to ask you, if you would want to help me and my friends build a new nation. In the meaning of separating the Undercity from under Piltover's boot - bringing every person in the Undercity a happy and meaningful life. To break free from the slave like life, that those bastards in their high palaces are imprinting on us. Thiskind of life is meant for nobody and yet they still keep doing it. That has to change! Or we and every next generation after us will still be the cockroaches under their heels. My brothers, sisters and I want to give everybody good jobs, close those damn mines and factories - which make everybody sick, cut Piltover‘s fucking strings from our back…”, his spirited speech pauses and he looks down on his shoes like what he says next, really hurts him, “… and giving the many orphans a home… a good education…”, he looks at you directly, “… a bright future. Everything that we could never get.”

Future.

That word, that idea makes your chest clench and spreads an emotion across your whole body, that you forgot you once had…

Hope.

But still you’re not really convinced. It sounded very cheesy, like one of those romantic novels, that you had to read in your childhood. But things run differently in the Undercity - everybody knows and your best guess is that that boy is just playing innocent so he can get you into something VERY unorthodox. So you set your mind straight, looking at him just from the corner of your eye and answer „Yeah… not interested.“

The man looks at you like you just shut down the power of his body. With a low voice and sad eyes he asks you: „Don’t you care about your people?“

Anger shoots into your veins like fire on a pool of dropped spirit.

You think angrily to yourself “Of course I care, numb nuts! This is my home and I hate to see people dying on the streets, because they catch death and disease in those fucking mines. But how are a bunch of kids like us gonna change ANYTHING - huh?!”

“It will work, because we’ll be many and everyone deserves it. Now don’t turn away and hear me out!”, he states and intends to grip your visible wrist. But in one fluent motion, you instead take him by the wrist, twist his arm uncomfortably and sweep his dominant leg away from under him, so that he falls onto his back. Your other hand pulls your knife from beside your thigh and moves it to the man's throat.

There you are - him lying on the ground and you sitting on his midsection - ready to end his life. You both breath heavily and since the rain cooled the surroundings a lot, your breath is visible in damp clouds.

The man looks at you - his eyes are the size of the Piltover moon and he finds his voice back first. “That...” he kept panting, since the throw pushed all the air from his lungs. “… was awesome. How… did you… do that? Where…” he wheezed and coughed for a moment. “Where did you learn that?”

Your anger did not evaporate a bit yet and you ignored his question - now you are more suspicious than before. “What made you think that you could just touch me - huh? Do you always do that with women?”, the venom in your voice could not be overheard and you press the knife harder at the man's throat. His eyes wide and he moves his hand in defensive movements.

“Hey, hey, slow the horses. I didn’t mean to harm you - really. I just… wanted you to listen to me.”, he whispers - you could hear the caution in his voice. You apply less pressure on the knife and on the man's throat. “Ok… you got me listening now. But you better don’t pull a stunt like that again.” You say in a low tone voice, finally standing up from his tummy, extending your hand to him. Without saying a word, he grabs your hand and you lift him up to his feet. He blinks over his shoulder to assess the damage you did to his shirt, but since he can only see dirt on his back, looks satisfied.

In this moment, two Enforcers cut the corner, in full gear and fully prepared for a fight. Some of them always patrol the Undercity to “uphold the peace” as they say, but everybody knows that they just come here to blow off some steam - beating up some “Undercity-rats” and leaving when their counterpart is near death bleeding on the ground. They go straight for you and the man beside you and you can feel their eyes scan you top to bottom. “Is there a problem?”, asks one of them - already grabbing the hilt of the baton on this belt. The man as well as you look unimpressed at the two Enforcers, their breath leaves their mask in a steamy cloud. You step forward and the Enforcers with the trigger finger on his baton move backward with you “Easy there, Missy.”

Missy? Really?

You lift your hands in a defensive movement and put your licor-selling little smile on. “Now, now Officers… I see no one in trouble or any problems. So…”, you put your hands down and gesture with a slight bow to the way beside you. “… you can continue your patrol throughout our beautiful Undercity.” Your smile gets even bigger and you notice a quick glance between the Enforcers. The Enforcer with the baton in ready action raises his chin high - so high that you wonder if he can still see something. “Oh yeah, what are you two rats doing here? Eating some garbage or planning on fighting the big bad cat?”, he puffs out and the two Enforcers start laughing while you and the man keep straightfaced. Their laugh makes you want to murder them cold blooded - until… you could think of something more fun.

The smile creeps back to your face. “Well we just thought of a new way to entertain ourselves like… mud wrestling - wanna give it a try, dear officers?” And with that you raise your right knee almost behind your ear and smash it with full force down the ground. The man beside you caught up with your idea the moment you had raised your knee and did the same, so that when both of your feet hit the ground the mud splashes around the both of you like a dirty firework. The enforcers stepped away from the huge splashes and after the drops settled on ground again, both of the heavy armored men started charging at the both of you. But you raised a hand - saying with your most daring of smile “Oh - was it not to your liking? My, my - my bad - seams I interpreted your looks wrong. My sincerest apologies, … officers.” One of the Enforcers already started to walk away, while the other with the hand on his baton walks in front of you, letting his body twitch short and quickly in your direction and you can barely withhold yourself from sending him to the ground. He looks pejoratively at you and the baton hits your face like a comet - but since you’ve been through worse, only a drop of blood leaves your bottom lip.“Yeah - says the rat in the dumpster. Fucking stink hole this is.” After they are gone some feet, you let a sigh of relief slip out of your mouth and your cramped body relinquishes the state of constant electricity. The man also relaxes again. “Hui - that was kinda close. Thanks for having my back.”

He turns his head back to you and repeats his question, “So where did you learn that throwing-thing?” You hesitate for a moment. Is it wise of you to say, that you’ve been trained in Piltover to keep the Lanes in check and murder eventual suspects…? ‘Hell no!’ You decide for yourself and think about a way to get around it. “I uhm….”, shit - you can’t think of a good excuse, so you go with the first best answer, that’s on top of your tongue. “I… learned it myself… you know - dad kind of beaded me up sometimes… and … I learned to defend myself. Kinda…”,

The man raised his eyebrows and turned his head a little. “You learned all that by yourself ?” Your chest clenched your heart painfully - you still had no reasonable explanation to how you nearly killed him, but he picked up the conversation again. “Then your dad must have been a real dickhead to do something to his daughter, that she learned to do the heavy shit.” He looked away again and he started pacing on the spot. He was shy about something and the way he could not say still made him look like a cute overgrown schoolboy. “You know… we definitely need someone like you. You know - teaching us how to fight properly… what else can you do by the way?”

“Well I can fight with a knife - obviously… and I’m a bartender.”, you answered casually. For reasons of self protection, you kept everything else a secret.

The man looked at you, questioning “A bartender also? Hmm, I definitely could use one more in my bar. But anyway, can I get you excited about the revolution? We definitely need more hands and unless we don’t do something, nothing's gonna change…”

You think about the offer - but, what better chance of change (or work) do you have? But that guy was right… nothing is going to change, unless you stand up and do something about it. But you also think about: if this endeavor should work, then there is a LOT to be done in advance and Piltover sure is not gonna give it all up without a good fight. You finally look at him again and ask just one honest question: “ How many are you by now?”

“Not many, but we keep recruiting.”, again a meaningful pause. “…does that mean you’re in?”

Now it’s your turn on the meaningful pause, but actually you’ve already decided. You tuck the knife away and let your hand hang loosely beside your body. You shrug and a small smirk makes it to your face.

“Well… I just fired myself from my last job for rearranging my employer's face - since he wanted my body over my work potential. Sooo I think I got some time to spare.”

The man looks a little worried and his head leans a few degrees to the side. „You’ve been asked to be a whore in exchange for work? And you punched your ex-boss in the face? Damn Lassi… are you safe? If not I have some people from the revolution who can have an eye out for you.“ „It‘s ok…“, you answer quickly, „… the offer is nice but as you may have found out for yourself, I'm pretty good at defending myself.“

His face starts lightening up like the oven of one of the Undercity factories and he smiles over his whole face.

“That’s pretty true, but can I conclude from your `I got some time to spare’ that you agreed. If you want, you can go down the road in the house to the left. It’s a bar called “The Last Drop” - that’s my bar. Tell ‘em 'Vander ' send you …”,his hyper energy stopped for a moment like he remembered something. “… oh… ehh… I‘m Vander by the way.” and holds out his hand for a handshake. You tell him your name, take his hand and add a short “Nice to meet you.”

Vanders hands are big like that of a bear - you could feel the power leaking between all those calluses on his hand, but he didn’t crush your hand - instead holding it firm and gently. It surprises you a little, but you could pay no further attention to it, because he lets go of your hand - on the run to find the next recruit for the course.

Over his shoulder he shouts “GO TO THE LAST DROP” and runs into the next alley.

You look after him… what a weird and funny guy.

Since you really had nothing to do, you walked in the direction Vander led you - right to the Last Drop. While you were walking with your head down on the dark alley - you thought about Vanders words - about the kids … about a future. When you were a kid you would have embraced the change that's now dawning. It maybe would have changed your life back then. You shake your head again, as you pull the hood of your coat back over your hair. It’s no use to you now, to think about the what ifs and what could have beens - the only thing that matters right now is the here and now. And maybe a little bit of future - yeah maybe the future… if there is one…

End of chapter 1

Lyrics from Skillet “The Resistance”

#Silco x Aurelia #silco x you #silco x oc #silco arcane #silco x reader #silco #arcane #silco fanfic #silco x f!reader #repost from AO3 #silco fic #arcane silco

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twotangledsisters · 7 months ago

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A quick reminder that fanfics shouldn't be reposted anywhere ever unless you have the express permission of the author.

You want to translate a fic? Awesome, ask!

You want to make a podfic? Amazing, ask!

But it's disrespectful to an author to take their content and repost without telling them, EVEN if you did transformative work on it.

Yes, fanfics are free, and on ao3 they are even downloadable, but they are downloadable for private use! For you to have on your kindle and read in whatever format best suits you. Not to be REPOSTED on another site!

Please, please, if you want authors to continue posting stories publically you have to respect an author's desire to maintain some level of ownership over their work.

#fanfic #ao3 #this is about lore.fm and the amount of readers I've seen not understanding the issue!#Coming from somebody who has terrible sight and often relies on text to speech #The issue isn't the text to speech tool it's the scraping ao3 and reposting author's work without consent part

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rjthirsty · 2 months ago

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Gilbert Predator/Prey

Words: 2,600

Tags: Biting, Female Reader, Possessive Behavior, PIV sex, Smut, Kinktober2024, creampie

A/N: @moonstruckmelancholic requested a Predator/Prey with Gilbert, with a quote prompt that is in also in the fic as part of my 100 followers event. I hope I did it justice.

Prince Gilbert never took his eye off you.

He watched as you made your way through the social circles in the ballroom. Chatting with other men. Laughing at their jokes. The way they touched your shoulder, your arm, your lower back. You never reciprocated, but they were touching you and you were not theirs.

He watched as you danced with nearly every Rhodolite prince. The way they all doted on you. The way they held hands with you. The way you smiled when they leaned close to speak privately to you. You were gorgeous in the way you moved about the room, but you were being led by someone else. Someone who you didn’t belong to.

He watched as you glanced around the room, feeling someone’s gaze on you. Your eyes found his. You’d quickly avert your gaze. No one was supposed to know the two of you were close. So close. And with a renewed attempt, you’d continue to be part of the merrymaking ignoring the way he watched your every move.

When you excused yourself, Prince Gilbert was waiting outside the restroom, the hallway deserted save for you two. Your heart thumped a warning. His cane thumped the wall, preventing you from moving past him. He stepped close - so close - to mutter in your ear. “The next hand that touches my pretty little rabbit will be broken.”

The threat causes you to tremble. Or was it the way his breath gusted against your ear? Was it from excitement or fear? The tiny thrill you got from his promise of violence was not something you wanted to admit or look too closely at.

His gloved fingers trail from the nape of your neck down your spine to the swell of your ass. Your lips part in a silent sigh of longing, hoping there would be more, but his cane lowers from in front of you and you knew he was dismissing you. Letting you go for now.

You press your lips back together and take a breath to calm your rapidly beating heart. Knowing you've been released from between the black tiger's claws. He was toying with you. Showing you how easy it was to corner you and set your heart racing.

Returning to the party, your thoughts were preoccupied. Thoughts of him. Thoughts of what he does to you– with you. His threat repeating each time someone spoke to you, suddenly more conscious of who reached for you and moving out of their way.

No one touches you but him.

You look for him among the crowd. Surely he's watching. He's always watching. But from where you can't tell. You can't find his hungry eye or sharp grin. Perhaps it's a ploy to get you to let your guard down. Perhaps he's nearer than you think and as soon as an accidental touch reaches you he'll make himself known with violence and power.

Perhaps it's time to retire to prevent such a thing.

As soon as you cross the threshold to your room you can feel it. He's there. The air hums, vibrating inside you, causing the hair on the back of your neck to stand on end. Slowly, cautiously, deliberately, you close the door, turning the lock into place.

You've trapped yourself with him. You turned your back to him. You're showing him how much you trust by putting your neck between his jaws and hoping he doesn't crush the life out of you.

Like the monster he is, he coalesces out of the shadows. You can't see him, eyes pinned to the door just like he pins you there. His body behind you, pressed against you. His hands trace your curves. His voice sweetly purrs, heated breath on your neck. “You've pleased me, Little Rabbit. Coming to see me right away.”

The familiar feel of luxurious leather slides under your jaw as his gloved fingers trace to your chin and over your throat to come to a rest on your pulse. You already know by the way your chest is pounding that he’ll be pleased with how it’ll flutter under his fingers. This time you know it isn’t fear. This time you know it’s excitement and the thrill of what is to come. Will he be rough? Will he be kind? How will he conquer you tonight?

His free hand makes quick work of the laces holding your dress together. Much too quick. In a matter of seconds, your fancy gown is nothing more than a splendid pool of color encircling your feet.

Your heart beats harder. Beats faster. His lips touch the curve of your neck and you can feel him smiling. He's pleased. Then his teeth sink into flesh and the pain that accompanies his love sears a mark into your skin.

You cover your mouth to prevent the cry that threatens to spill from you. Fingers press tight to lips pursed and teeth clenched. Gilbert relents on your shoulder, his tongue soothing the burn that he inflicted upon you. His cooler temperature helps ease the pain. His tongue velvety soft as he laps at the angry mark.

Your fingers fall from your lips and a sigh floats out of you. Gil's fingers fall from your throat, drifting over your clavicle to the swell of your breasts. Pushed into two lovely mounds by your corset, his leather-clad digits draw across each pillowy tit, promising a gentleness Gilbert is not known for.

The sudden tugging of the ties on your corset is a drastic contrast to the light touch you had just been granted. Almost violently, Gilbert removes the shell that covered your chest. He discards it out of your sight, but you can hear the stiff fabric hit the floor.

Then he is gone from your proximity. He moves with precision and grace. You watch as he circles the room, pulling off accessories and gloves and shirts and nearly disrobing fully, his dark red eye landing on you expectantly. His gaze could pin you to the spot or pull you to him like a glowing lure, and right now you feel the call of his command leading you to step out of your shoes and drop the last garment covering your sex as you move to in front of him.

“Show me.” The way his lips pull back from his teeth to reveal his deadly maw in such a beautiful smile hastens the wetness growing between your legs.

Obediently, you crawl onto the bed. Rising to your knees, facing him, legs spread for balance, you keep your eyes locked on him, watching him like he watches you. Hungry. Needy. But unlike him, so obedient and desperate.

Your lips part and your tongue makes an appearance as you lick two of your fingers, drawing them into your mouth to thoroughly wet them. Reaching between your legs, you slide your wet digits between your labia where your body lacks lubricant, pushing against the sides of your clit and giving it a cheeky little rub before you move to where you need no additional moisture. Your entrance is already slick. Slipping your fingers in up to the first knuckle, your cunt mourns the loss of your own touch as you lift your sticky arousal to fulfill Gilbert's order.

A thin thread strings between your fingers as you spread them, displaying how wet he makes you. He is pleased, once again. Practically salivating at the thought of devouring you.

The distance between you shrinks. His hand takes hold of your wrist. His tongue runs the length of your wet fingers, bringing them into his mouth for him to savor your taste. It's sinful, the way he sucks on them. One cleaned fully, he pops it out of his mouth, sucking the last of you off the other. Then his teeth take hold and it takes everything in you to not pull away.

Almost apologetically, Gil sucks your finger again, his tongue swirling around it as the tip toys with the indents he just made in your skin. His lips are soft. Dragging your finger from his mouth, he lets you linger - the only time you will be granted your own actions. And linger you do. Brushing his bottom lip that holds such softness in sweet kisses but hides the sharp sting of his bite.

His teeth catch your finger again, biting for only a second before his tongue laps at the blooming mark and his mouth moves to the next spot. Like a lover kissing his way to your mouth, Gilbert travels up your arm with bites more painful than nips and soothing licks that barely ease the ache of his teeth.

You rush to meet his mouth. Tongues caressing and tasting each other. The bed dips from his weight. His cool fingers roughly push between your folds. You gasp as he hooks them inside you, searching for that rougher patch not far inside your entrance. He swallows your moan. He steals your breath. He is relentless.

Gilbert descends on you. Without the need to guide you, he overpowers you. You bend beneath him. Shrink and fold and crawl and submit until you're on your back and he's above you. Your mouths barely separate and his fingers in your cunt continue to press and rub and curl offering a kindness for everything he's taking from you.

His thumb tucks next to your clit, pushing back the hood to strum your sensitive bud. It firms up immediately and he swirls it around with the pad of his thumb, pressing into the nerves below the surface. His fingers inside you continuing to coax a climax from you.

His mouth leaves yours. You're gasping for breath. Muffled moans no longer muted, now allowed to sound freely. A sharp hiss between your teeth when he closes you between his teeth. Your neck. Your shoulder. Your breast. His painful proclamations of adoration are scattered over your body. But wherever his teeth go, his tongue follows and the pleasure from his sucks, licks, and kisses are enough to forgive his sharp fangs.

You reach your peak and tip over the edge. Thighs squeezing together. Cunt clenching but his two fingers are not enough to feel full from. Your walls flutter and search for something more. It could have been so much more if he had just fucked you first. But Gilbert was a man that didn't freely give. He knew he'd have you craving him if he provided an inch for every mile you needed.

His fingers glisten as he licks your arousal from them. You're more than just obedient now. You're addicted. He is all of your thoughts. He is your heart. You breathe for him and him alone. And you would gladly let him have you any way he wants.

“Roll over my little rabbit.”

On hand and knees, you can feel him moving behind you. Removing his last article of clothing. Knees setting on the outside of your legs. He can't help but run a finger over your wet slit. He seems to love the way you taste as much as you love him tasting you. Fingers and thumbs grip your hips and he directs you into more of a tilt, bringing your ass higher and your pussy closer to him. Palms brush your lower back, pushing your hips further in a tilt and guiding you to your elbows.

His cock slides along your wet folds teasingly. “Beg me to be gentle.”

“Please…” You whimper, leaning towards him in an attempt to get him to slip inside you.

“Little Rabbit~.” He prompts, the tip of his dick slowly pushing into your entrance but stopping only just inside.

You lean towards him again but his hand holds the two of you from coming together. “Hnmph.” You pout. “Please, Gil…”

“Please, what?” As a reward, he pushes another inch inside you.

“Please, Gil, please. Please fuck me. Please! I want to feel you inside me, please! I need you inside me. Ah–!”

What was taking too long suddenly came too fast. Gilbert's cock shoved inside you with no regard for lubing himself. It entered easily at first, but his length eventually used up the slickness at your hole becoming rough and dragging the last few inches. His hand clamps on your hip, holding you from pulling away from him. His other hand sits flat on your lower back, keeping you angled how he had arranged you.

“That's not right, now is it?” Without giving you the chance to accommodate or adjust, he starts pounding into you. The discomfort is hardly noticeable with the way your walls quiver finally being stimulated. It's mind numbing. It's hard to think. It just feels so good.

“Haah! Ah! Hnnah!” You can't even get a word out as his force and pace smacks the moans from your throat. It's so good. So good.

“Such a pervert.” He says the words adoringly. There is no shame or disgust, just delight. “Ahaha-ah.” Skin slaps. Your whole body rocks with each thrust. “Little Rabbit- hnnh- wants it rough.”

“Uh-huhn. Uhn. Ahnh.” You shove your face into the mattress, hands under your shoulders to keep you from putting too much pressure on your neck. Tipping your tailbone up, you try to offer more of your pussy to him. He’d go deeper if you moved closer. Feeling his cock hammering into you is exactly the sort of thing you need right now.

His fingers dig in harder on your hip. He's enjoying this. Your ass blushes from the impact of his hips. If your pussy was easier to see, it would be a lovely shade of pink as well. But the view Gilbert gets to witness is brief but erotic - his cock pistoning into you, disappearing down to his black bush.

Your legs begin to tremble. You can feel the next orgasm tensing within you. Your back naturally tries to straighten as your muscles begin to flex, but Gil's hand holds you down, tipped in that delicious angle. Fingers curl into the blankets. Moans become more strangled and desperate.

“Haahh, you feel so good.” Gilbert groans.

Just like that the tension snaps and sends you into body shaking convulsions. Gil slows down, rocking into you. Nuzzling deep and slow. Your cunt clinches him and he drags you down his length. His flat palm on your lower back presses harder, fingertips flexing into you. Your climax washes up your spine to the base of your skull and that wonderful weightlessness drowns your thoughts.

Gilbert strokes himself through your orgasm. Gentle words praising you. Filthy words complimenting you. Each sound he makes draws your spasms out longer and longer until you don't think you can keep it up. Coming this hard - this long - it was too much. It was exhausting but so so good. It was mind-numbing but sent sensations sizzling in every part of you.

“Haahng. Hngh. Aah. Ngh” Gil moans when he comes. His cock throbs so deep in your cunt. Shivers shake you, dancing from erogenous zones to fingertips and toes. He finally stops moving. Stops stimulating your swollen cunt. You are granted time to catch your breath and your sanity. Gilbert panting above you. You gasping below him.

When he pulls out, you can feel the mess between your legs. He slowly helps you move out of your contortions. Stiff joints from too much pressure in a position for too long. But he's there to ease your weight and move your limbs. You lie there sprawled on the bed, Gilbert clinging to you for warmth. But also a protective need to claim you as only his. Curling around his treasure like a greedy dragon clutching his most valuable possession.

He truly needn't worry. You were his from the moment he caught you in his dark red eye. You delight in placing yourself within his claws and between his teeth. Even when he digs into you, and pain burns where he rends, he'll lick your wounds and fill you with his need. He is yours as much as you are his.

#ikepri fanfic #kinktober 2024 #ikepri gilbert #gilbert von obsidian #smut #predator/prey #ikemen prince #ikepri #female reader #tw possessive behavior #rjthirsty fanfic #repost from ao3

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gauloiseblue · 1 year ago

Text

Ruined Date

He should've turned on the TV this morning.

He never knew he'd ever need any information from the weather podcast.

If he had listened to the podcast, maybe you and him wouldn't be here—in the bus station—needing to take shelter from the raging storm. He scolded himself for letting you get drenched and shivering because of the strong wind. The rain itself wasn't any less cruel to both of you. The harmless drops of rain have changed its form into bullets of water against his skin, thanks to the help of the strong wind.

The date he had planned consisted of him taking you to a nice dinner, then he'll take you to a stargazing spot up above the city. There's a small spot on the cliff near this city that could offer the city view, the faraway ocean, and the starry night all in one spot. He had thought this'd be the perfect date until the first drop of rain fell on the nape of his neck when you and him were halfway through the path to the cliff.

The bus will arrive in 12 minutes, and the storm hasn't shown any sign of stopping. He had you curled in his arm, seeking warmth from his body. Even with the infamous Jotaro's coat and his strong arms wrapped on your body, you can't help but feel colder as the rain begins to soak through the fabric of his coat to your outfit.

Now you understand why everyone said the weather in Japan is really unpredictable.

The stars were visible when the two of you two finished the dinner. But when you and him arrived at the entrance of the stargazing spot, the sky had been covered by dark clouds. You had a bad feeling about it, yet you shook it off and thought maybe the clouds were only passing by. You were wrong.

The sounds of rain hitting the asphalt fill the void of the absence of Jotaro's voice. You knew he's blaming himself right now but you too took part in this--you did receive a warning from yourself, but you chose to ignore it.

You loosen up his embrace and reaching out to touch the side of his face, your voice is barely heard, but you know he had heard you,

"I'm fine.. Don't worry about me." He answers with a heavy sigh,

"It's not your fault, y'know." You stroke his cheekbone, assuring him, "we can't control the weather."

"But I could've known better to not take you to somewhere far from the city."

You snorted, cracking a small smile on your lips. To be honest, when he murmurs to you about the place he'd take you after dinner, you can't help but feel your heart swell with affection. He, Jotaro Kujo, has planned and is willing to take you to somewhere romantic had you thrown away your cautiousness. You didn't even worry about how your feet would be sore after the walk to the cliff, the mosquito bites, hell, you didn't even think about the danger of walking in the forest at night at all.

He noticed you tighten your hug around his bulky chest, repressing a giggle that bubbles in your throat.

"What's so funny?"

"No, it's just.." You suppress your incoming laughter, "I had imagined us in every possible cheesy scenario in my head, especially when we're dancing in the rain."

But not now, not when you and him are in the middle of a storm, with icy cold drops of rain constantly touching your skin.

You were too occupied with your thoughts and swelled heart that you didn't realize Jotaro had closed the distance between you and him, he tilted your head up until your lips and his are touching—

There's a sudden blinding light coming from the road, the roaring engine startled you as your eyes winced for a better vision to see what's behind those lights.

"Ah, the bus is finally here." Jotaro informed you before pulling you towards the bus. The tall vehicle is slowing down, slowly approaching both of you. The automatic door is sliding open, welcoming both of you to come aboard. You both gladly accept the welcome and hop into the bus.

"Welcome, passengers! Crazy weather eh?" The driver of the bus greeted me.

"Yes, it was rather.. Unexpected." You replied, Jotaro agreed by tugging down his completely soaked hat.

"Glad I came to rescue." He laughs a bit, closing the automatic door and starts to drive away from the deserted bus station.

There's no one inside the bus except you, him, and the driver—unsurprisingly, since no one wants to go out in the middle of the storm.

You took a seat near the window as you freed yourself from his drenched coat, trying to warm yourself by rubbing both of your palms together. You could feel a warmth building up on your palms.

"Need help?" Jotaro asked

"Oh, no, no. I can do it myself."

"Yare yare, gimme your hands."

"But-"

Before you could reply to him, he already pulled both of your hands and gently placed them onto his palms. You felt a pair of invisible hands landing on your freezing palms, radiating a heat which instantly melts away the cold feeling on your fingertips.

You let out a content sigh, both of Jotaro's and Star Platinum's hands have washed away all the cold from the rain off your hands. Even though you can't see the invisible stand he had told you about, you can feel Star's hands rub on your palms, up to your wrists, until they disappear and move to cup your face, your cheek instantly lit up as you feel a pair of invisible lips had landed on yours.

"Feeling better?"

He commands Star to retreat after giving you a chaste kiss and focuses on you fully by caressing the high point of your cheeks, gently wipes away the remaining drops of rain on your face.

"Yes, better."

The smile on your lips is so wide that you thought your face would split into two. To have Jotaro showing the gentle side of him is truly a rare moment for you to experience, and you always want to cherish this moment. He had told you to be patient with him in a relationship.

So you did.

And you're grateful you did.

You leaned your head onto his broad shoulder happily. He had wrapped his hand carefully around your shoulders and provided a comfortable cushion for you to rest upon.

The comfort he gives distracts you from a light dust of red on his cheek. He pulled down his hat and muttered out his signature catchphrase.

Kujo's residence is about 20 minutes away from your current place, but you didn't mind spending the rest of the time in comfortable silence as weariness began to seep into your body. You rested your eyes close and let your other senses take over the available slot left by your sight. The sound of the rain against the window of the bus constantly fills your sense of hearing, every turn and stop the bus makes barely noticeable to you, but you are aware of some arrival and departure from the bus passengers during the trip.

You felt yourself dozing off for a moment before a soft nudge on your shoulder slowly lifted the fog of your unconsciousness away. You groggily return to your sense of sight and look around just to find the bus is stopping at your destination, luckily the storm has subdued into drizzle. You groan softly, your mind instantly prioritizes you to get a nice, hot shower after you arrive at Jotaro's house. The unpleasant feeling of the wet clothes that stick onto your skin is uncomfortable whenever you move around. Not mentioning his damp coat on your shoulders. Jotaro noticed your discomfort, thus he took your hand and guided you out from the bus after paying the transportation fee. You politely bid the driver a good night and receive a smile in return.

"Be safe on your way home!"

"Thank you sir." You waved him goodbye.

His smiles widened as he waved to the both of you before closing the automatic door. The big vehicle is driven away, leaving the two of you alone in the bus station.

Jotaro placed his hand on your cheek to draw your attention, and you turned your face to him. The corner of his lips curled in amusement.

"You're so friendly to everyone, were you forgetting about me?"

"Um, no i didn't—" You blushed at his words, you just realize you've been watching the bus as it went further away from the bus station you're currently in.

Chuckle erupted from his throat, he once again took your hand and dragged you out from the shelter.

"Come on, we should get home."

You nod to him, you begin to match his wide steps but it's a struggle to keep your pace equal to his.

An unspoken compassion from him starts to become noticeable as his steps are slowing down. You felt you were instantly taken back to the very first time he held your hand back in your adolescence. The butterfly wings flutter on the inside of your stomach as you're overwhelmed by his form of affection, not that you complained.

The small gesture he had tried to show you held a lot of meanings. Jotaro Kujo wasn't a man of affection, but alas you were quite the opposite. At first, he's very hesitant about being in a relationship, afraid that he'd somehow accidentally hurt you. It took a lot of convincing and encouragement for him to gradually learn how to show his emotions up until the point he even lets you see him when he's emotionally vulnerable. You were glad you're able to receive his love at his own pace.

—

The street grew quieter as both of you walked into the passageway where his home is located. The rain stopped about a minute ago, but the sky hasn't cleared out from Cumulonimbus clouds.

"We're here." He stated.

You looked up, realizing you've been distracted by your thoughts till the Gate of Kujo's residence went unnoticed by you until now.

"Oh, yeah, great." You awkwardly replied, he must've noticed you've been dazed out the whole time.

The sound of metal groans from the gate's hinge was produced when he pushed the gate open. He steps aside, gesturing to you to enter his home first. You gladly step inside.

His house never ceased to amaze you. The traditional Japanese garden, with stone pathways that lead you to the wooden-old style house, looks exquisite.

Jotaro walked in right after you, he locked his gate before approaching the small box of switches. The flick of switch immediately turned on the tōrō that embellished alongside the pathway. Illuminating the path to his house.

You watched them in awe as the second flick of switch made the lamps under the canopy above you light up dimly.

"How long are you gonna stand there?" He called you out, instantly snapped you out from your thoughts.

Damn, even if this was the hundredth time of you visiting his house, you're still nervous about going in. Not because of the intimidating presence of a huge house, but rather about what'd happen afterwards when the two of you are alone inside his room.

"Coming!" You jog towards him, he snorts at your clumsy steps.

The slide door squeaked against the strong push of his hand, the dim hallways greets you and him as both of you went inside. He sat on the small stair at the entrance of the house to free his soaked feet from the wet shoes. You imitate him as you pull your feet out from your flat shoes, cringed at the squishy sounds made by the foam parts of your shoes.

"Jojo, would you mind if I take a bath first?" You asked, insecure about the possible odor being produced by your feet if you don't wash it immediately.

"Sure, I'll lend you my clothes."

Wait.. Your brain is still processing his offer.

Your cheek bursts into a dark shade of red when realization hits you. You will be wearing his clothes as a change, but there's no possibility that he owned a pair of bras.

And women's underwear.

"Uh, i just— i just remember—" You stuttered, unable to assemble the question you wanted to ask, "do you— by any chance could lend me, you know,"

"Lend what?"

"Uh, that thing." His brows furrowed deeper as the thing you asked from him isn't clear enough. You groaned, he didn't get the message,

"... A spare underwear." The last part of your word came out as a whisper.

"Oh."

His response was so flat, you cursed your awkwardness that makes a fool out of you by exaggerating the matter.

But your request did make a part of him twitch, but it wasn't anywhere on his hand.

"Right," He pulled down his hat to conceal half of his face, "it's not a woman's underwear, but I do have spares, if you like."

"Thank you." You shut the conversation off.

Awkward silence follows afterward.

Jotaro began to walk inside his house without words. Soft thud of footsteps have joined the sound of the night. A loud croak of a frog and buzzing sounds from moth wings filled the night as both of you walked through the veranda of his house.

Just like a navigator implanted in his head, he walks around his house on autopilot. The both of you passed the empty living room, the kitchen, the tea room, until he stopped in front of a room you're familiar with.

The shōji slides open, revealing Jotaro's spacious room inside. The tatami feels nice under your feet when you step inside. You follow your feet as they carry you to the electrical switch of this room's lamp. The warm light is flooding the room instantly.

Jotaro closed the shōji with a loud slam. Surprisingly, you're used to how unaware he'd handle things around him at full strength. Sometimes you think he can't control the extra power he got from Star Platinum yet, but you know he won't admit it.

He disappeared to the cubicle of his wardrobe and came back with a pile of fresh clothes as he offered them to you.

"Here, take it."

"Thank you." You extended your hands to grab the clothes from him.

"Go on and take a shower." He reached for his hat, taking it off and tossing it to the nearest table. "I'll be in the kitchen. Tea?"

"Yes please." You lit up at his offer. A hot beverage after a nice shower sounds very pleasant.

"Alright."

You stand still as you watch the shōji slide open and closed once again. The silhouette of him appears on the semi translucent glass, until it disappears around the corner.

You quickly took a step towards the bathroom.

The fluorescent light filled the room as you turned the switch on. The bright white porcelains dominated your vision. You quickly stored your changes in the usual place and discarded your wet clothes from your body. Your skin felt moist after your body naturally let any liquid seep through the barrier of your skin. You frowned at the sight of your wrinkled fingertips and your reflection in the mirror. Your hair is matted because of the drying rainwater. It's gonna take a long time to smoothen your tousled hair.

You step into the shower room, closing the glass door behind and turn on the warm shower. It didn't take a long time before the cold water turned into warm water on your hand, the steam from the water instantly relaxed your muscles as you stood closer to the pouring water and let them wash away the remaining coldness of the rain. You sigh contently when the temperature of the room has risen up to the point where it feels like you just curled up inside a blanket in the middle of cold night. When the cold is gone, you begin to scrub away the impurity off your skin with soap.

Great, now I'll smell exactly like Jotaro, you thought to yourself as you poured an appropriate amount of shampoo onto your head, the smell of him quickly invaded your nostrils as soon as you rub the shampoo on your hair. Bubbles quickly form on your head as you gently massage your scalp. His shampoo does feel a little too drying for your hair, but it's better than just washing your hair with only water.

The faint sound of the bedroom's door slid open indicating that he's back. You quickly wash up yourself before turning off the faucet, not wanting to keep him waiting for his turn. You step out from the foggy shower cubicle and pull the towel from the hanger. The towel is now wrapped around your body after you use it to wipe yourself dry. The temperature outside the shower room does feel a little colder.

This would be the first time you fully dressed in his clothes.

You take a look at yourself in the mirror again, tidying your hair a bit before fetching the pile of clothes inside the hanging cabinet on the wall.

The grey underwear he gave you is bigger than your size, not to mention the unusual bagginess around the crotch. You blushed at the thought of something usually nestled inside this brief. It did feel uncomfortable, but other than that, the shirt and his shorts felt comfortable on your skin. The smell of wooden wardrobe clinged on the shirt he had given you, a hint of his cologne bursts out everytime the fabric brushes on your skin. Oh, you definitely smell like Jotaro right now.

Your nipples are visible under the clothes, you cringed when you feel them peaked because of the coldness of the room. You shook your head as you draped your towel on your shoulders, covering the visible part of your nipples.

You unlocked the bathroom door, walked out with the dirty clothes in your hand.

"Jotaro, it's your turn." You call him out.

Your eyes instantly spotted him on the small spot in the center of the room. He had placed a portable short-legged table in front of him with two cups of tea settled on the table. The rain did a favor to you, the rainwater that wet his clothes made his shirt clings onto the skin underneath. Which exhibit the outline of his forearms and torso.

He took a sip of his tea before setting it down on the table. He gets up and grabs a new towel before entering the bathroom and closing the door behind.

You gently knock on them, "Jojo, could you hand me your dirty clothes? I'll wash them."

He grunts as an answer, the sound of rustling shirt and rattling belt clasps follow afterwards.

The door is opened for the second time, this time with a hand sticking out with a bundle of clothes in the grip.

"Here." He handed you his laundry. You let him place them down on top of your hand,

"You're welcome." You giggled as you took it and headed out to the laundering room, feeling a blush creep on your cheek.

The washing machine that belongs in this household is quite similar to yours. The only difference is it's a lot bigger and elegant compared to what you have in your house. You separate the whites and begin to do the chores.

On your way back to his room after finished laundering the dirty clothes was awfully quiet. You looked up to the sky from the veranda and spotted a dim moonlight behind the clouds. The storm has passed, leaving the sky overcast with just a thin layer of clouds.

You slide the room's door open, surprised when you see him currently sitting beside the table with a small towel resting on his head. He already changed into comfortable pants and only pants. Exhibiting his ungodly muscles of his torso and after-shower skin that looks soft if you touch them.

You shook your urge to run your fingers onto his moist skin off as you tried to distract yourself from the view in front of you. The fact that he took a bath in less than 5 minutes is questionable. Did he mistake rinsing his body as taking a bath?

"Um, you're done already?"

He looked up from the magazine in his hand as if it's not obvious enough.

".. Let me dry your hair then."

You waited for him to reply, but he often gave you silent answers. You closed the door behind you and fetched the hairdryer inside the bottom of the desk drawer.

The sound of a buzzing hair dryer fills the room as you're working on his hair. You kneeled to have a better view to his head, gently run your fingers into his hair while drying his hair delicately.

He relaxed at your touch and leans closer to you, closing his eyes. His hair quickly dried out with the help of an expensive hair dryer his mom gave him, sadly it has never been in use except when you're around. You pull him towards you as you wrap your hands around his neck, placing a kiss on his forehead.

He chuckled, "What's up with the kiss?"

"Nothing, I just want to do it." You place another kiss on his cheek.

"You could just tell me if you want more." He twisted his body to face you and reached out to cup your face, pulling you towards him. Both of your lips almost come in contact.

You blushed furiously as his forearm brushed on your clothed breast.

It's not like Jotaro had never seen or touched you bare body, but the awareness from not wearing a bra when you both weren't in some sexual activity feels so wrong, it's like you were committing a crime though it's actually not a big deal.

"You do realize your face is turning red, do you?" He finally closed the distance between your lips with a kiss. He turned his body fully facing yours. Your knees weaken and you fall onto your back with him on top of you as the result of intense kisses he poured onto your lips.

You deepen the kiss to suppress the noises caused by his wandering hands roaming on your skin. He slowly descends his body on top of yours, making you gasped for air between the kisses.

The shorts you wore easily slide off from your legs, leaving the bottom part of your body covered only with baggy underwear. His hands quickly found the hem of the brief before he finally removed the last fabric on your leg, the chilling air instantly licked your hot core. He pulled away from the kiss and smirked as he saw a darker spot on the grey underwear you wore.

"You're staining my brief,"

"Oh my god, I'm sorry." You replied as you covered your face, feeling the embarrassment skyrocketed in your head as he pulled them off you completely. It didn't take a second before the brief was thrown somewhere on the floor.

"Not that I mind." You let out a low moan when he shifted and kissed the back of your ear. It's not only embarrassment that has peaked so high inside you, it also drags your sensitivity up beyond the ceiling. As the result, you wetted yourself more.

His hand found the hem of your shirt, he pulled the shirt over your head along with your drenched hair towel and tossed them somewhere in the room.

You instantly hug yourself in an attempt to cover your bare chest. It didn't take a second before he yanked both of your hands off your chest, keeping your breast open for his eyes to feast.

The tent on his pants grew abnormally bigger as you wriggle under him. You weren't ready, at least for now. He always took time to prepare himself and he'd never been this bold before. This is beyond confidence. Did something aroused him? What was the cause? Or did something triggered him until he's—

His scalp. You had accidentally teased him by running your fingers into his hair, where his erogenous zone is hidden under his thick mane.

Of course it's more than that. He had planned this since Ms. Holly is currently in America with her husband, he would never pass the chance to spend time with you alone. The evidence is showing through the absence of the underwear he should've been wearing. Besides, the outline of his cock inside his pants looks way too obvious.

A spark of courage started a fire inside you. He had missed you, and you were just the same. You ignore the fluttering wings of butterflies inside your stomach as you move your hands in the second after he lets go of them and runs your fingers into his hair, digs your nail down onto his scalp. He groans at the sudden stimulation he receives.

From many experiences, you both already know each other's erogenous zone. The second-most sensitive part of his body—the first one was his cock, obviously—is his scalp.

"Jotaro," You pull his head down until your lips meet again, you wrap your legs around his waist and start grinding on his hard bulge.

You were right, there's no underwear beneath those shorts.

You silently thanked his decision. The cotton fabric of his shorts against your arousal almost feel zero in layers and it pleasures you but leaves you impatient at the same time. You moaned as you feel the outline of his cock better when you grind harder.

"Now you're staining my shorts." He hisses between his heavy breath,

"Take them off then..!" You gasped in protest

"Yare yare, use your own hand, woman." He grunted as he rose up and let you do the job. You quickly got to work on pulling the elastic band of the short down to free his swollen member from the tight shorts, even though the view of his fully erected cock is tempting to be left untouched. You are forced to drag your eyes to meet him, silently asking for permission to satisfy him with your mouth. He shook his head. Today, he's skipping it.

The sight of him kicking off his shorts is truly arousing. He's impatient, and so were you. You're familiar with this calm before storm period, where the tension in the atmosphere is so thick as if you're trapped inside a hardened gelatine.

Heavy breaths fill the lack of conversation between you and him as both of you share the same stare with the same intensity. You were filled with anticipation, hoping he'd ravish you and suffocate you as he pours his passion into you.

But of course, Jotaro won't let you get what you want—yet. He lowers his body for a bit before starting teasing your fold by dragging his hard tip up and down. You moaned as it stimulated you, but it wasn't enough.

"Jotaro!" You begged, "Don't tease me!"

"Impatient, aren't you?" He whispered beside your ear, positioning himself as he adjusted your legs around his waist. You pant heavily as you felt the long waited tip finally touched the entrance of your arousal.

You inhale harshly as his tip penetrated your core and slowly slid in easily into your lubricated wall.

"Fuck.. You were already this aroused." He curses as your wall massages the head of his cock. Sending him a sweet spark of pleasure.

It's barely in and he already made you into a moaning mess. His head had ducked down as his plump lips tugged your nipple lightly, and later he'd soothe your aching tip with his tongue. Both of his hands soon join the fun, they cup both of your mound and squeeze them gently. He likes to feel the softness of your breasts under his rough palms.

You moan when you feel his member is slowly sinking further and rubbing itself around the right spot on your wall. He lets out a quivered breath as he stops for a second to pull himself backward and shoves them inside. Your back begins to arch in pleasure as he repeats the process, in, out, in, then out again. Your wall was slowly adjusted to his size and you were starting to feel good.

"Jotaro, faster—!" You urged him, clinging into the new formed pleasure that slowly built inside your core.

Jotaro peels his hand away from your chest and goes to the south. Your eyes instantly open when you feel his fingers slip into your labia and slowly circulate around your sensitive bud. You opened your mouth to protest but he shut it by shoving his tongue in the second after you opened your mouth—which only resulted in you drowning deeper into pleasure.

This is unfair, you want to make him feel good as much as you did too.

You cupped his face as you gladly welcomed his thick, wet muscle into your mouth while he pumped himself into you.

"Let me please you, (Y/N)." He heaved softly between the kiss, "You've done so much for my pleasure."

Behind your blurry vision, you could see his determined stares. His brows were knitted together as he solely focuses himself on you.

Hot breath blew against the curve of your neck. He's sucking on a certain spot on your neck, adding a new pleasure you already had to bear from the constant stimulation in your lower region.

In that very moment, your senses are heightened by twofold. You could hear his harsh breathing, the wet sound of skin against skin, your own heartbeats, but you couldn't hear the sound that has escaped your mouth as clear as the other sound. The wave of pleasures keeps coming, sweeping you away from the shore and drowning you until you're unable to take control over your body.

Your clit has begun to numb from the constant rub his fingers are giving. The numbing sensation crawls its way to your legs, until it reaches your toes. You're clinging into his arms, completely at his mercy.

"Fuck, (Y/N)." He curses as he draws a shaky breath, he's undeniably starting to succumb into his own need for release. Wildly thrust himself into you.

"I— I'm close—" You gasped. Unable to form any decent word longer than that.

His only response was sweet nothings like 'you're doing good', 'cum for me', which comes out as a whisper. If your senses weren't heightened, you might be unable to catch them. With the remaining logical sense in your brain, you're aware Jotaro wasn't entirely conscious when he said those things.

You were so close to your release, it was so close but you still couldn't reach it. You bucked your hip faster to be in the same rhythm with his. Both of your body are covered in sweat, you could see the sweat has made a few strands of his hair stick onto his forehead, forming a few fat buds of sweat before they're rolling down on his face.

It only took one tilt of your body to make him graze into the right spot that instantly blacked out your eyes as you see nothing but stars. Within a few thrust, your body goes into convulsions as intense pleasure washes over you, triggering your brain to release large amounts of dopamine. You cried out his name as you finally reached the sweet orgasm he had intended to give you. Now it was his turn.

He increases his pace and fills the room with the loud sound of skin slapping besides your heavy breath and his small, almost unnoticeable moans. He's frustrated. He's already close halfway through the intercourse, but he's holding it back so you could reach it before him. With a desperate grunt but freed from duty to make you feel good, he lets his body guide him toward his own desire. He wants to buck his hip harder, it was there, so close to him to reach. With the help of your cum, he just had to thrust into you faster, and faster and—

His body spasms as he finally meets the orgasm he had been chasing. He arches his back as he feels his cock spill his hot cums into you.

He instantly feels light headed and collapses on top of you. You tighten your hug around his neck, kissing his cheek sweetly. You both stayed in that position for a while, enjoying the afterglow in each other's embrace.

You could feel the thick liquid of his release seeping into your core deeper, but he's spilling the rest out when he moves to remove his member from you.

A satisfied sigh leaves your lips, feeling the familiar sense of sleepiness begin to sink into your sore body.

"Don't sleep yet." He said as he stroked your cheek.

You smile. "I know", you softly replied. Sleeping on the floor without a futon will make your back stiff in the morning, he usually said.

He smiles back at you—so gentle that it would make you squeal if sleep wasn't your main priority right now.

He got up before gathering the scattered clothes on the floor and left you to bring back his folded futon.

He unfurled the futon beside you and told you to move onto the simple bedding—which took every energy you had left to drag your body to climb upon the fresh spread futon.

He cleans himself with tissues before putting his brief back on. You watched him change comfortably with your heavy lidded eyes.

Your eyes were finally closing. You almost fell into deep slumber if it's not because there's a sudden cold touch on your skin. You open your eyes before realizing you had fallen asleep for quite a while. You didn't remember Jotaro had left your side and came back with a cardigan and wet towel in his hand.

"Jotaro.." You call him quietly,

"Shh, (Y/N). You can go back to sleep." Jotaro hushes you as he cleans the stain on your inner thighs. He's really pampering you today.

"Come here, I want to cuddle you." You murmur, barely conscious as you pat the empty space besides you.

He chuckled softly before he kissed your forehead and joined you on the futon. You curled your body against him as he wraps you with a cardigan and pulls the thick blanket over your body and his. You then found yourself inside his arms before you slipped into unconsciousness, feeling a sense of protection as his steady breath lulls you back into slumber.

It wasn't a ruined date after all.

#old fic #repost from ao3 #jjba #jjba part 3 #jotaro kujo #jotaro x reader #smut

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lucienarcheron · 2 months ago

Text

Spirit Meets the Bones XXXIII

Genre: Angst/Romance/Drama Warnings: Mentions of physical abuse. Author’s Note: Thank you for reading <3 I hope you enjoy this next chapter and where the story is going :)

thank you @elidelochans for always being my beta <3

tagging: @climb-the-mountian / @zenkindoflove / @animezinglife / @rosewood-cafe / @vanserrass / @positivewitch / @clockwork-ashes / @carnythian / @secret-third-thing / @runningwiththeoceans / @that-golden-lyre / @thedarkinmansfield / @readychilledwine / @goldenmagnolias / @mali22 / @readthelastpaage / @maidr-00 / @electromagnetic-waves / @eastofatlanta / @moobell55 / @bibliophiliaxvignette / @devilsfoodcake22 / @weesablackbeak / @ladywhilemia / @alohaangels / @feysandfeels / @corcracrow / @dawneternal / @gracie-rosee / @mage-neve / @illyrianvalkyrie / @saint-stella / @rainbowsnowflake / @queenoftheworld1998 / @wolvesnravens

Find it all here.

When two days passed, Eris gathered with his brothers and mother in her garden. For this conversation, Iris stood by his side. He had carefully shielded their scents and if his brothers noticed, they didn’t comment.

He may trust them but as he shared a glance with his wife, Eris couldn’t help but want to keep this…gift to himself a little longer. If they made it through this, Eris would let himself reflect on how the Mother had a strange sense of humor; to give him Iris with the possibility of losing her.

Then again, the Mother knew this would be a hard fight. Sending his mate only gave him more reason to insist on making it out.

“You don’t think it’s too dangerous to be gathered like this in one place?” Lady Enya asked in the silence, her hands wringing in her lap.

“I glamored us as we arrived,” Eris assured her. “No one saw us coming in.”

But his mother was more nervous than usual, which added to his stress. Eris could tell she was tired and it made him want to choke his father more viciously than usual; that fucker knew his wife hated his guts and yet he kept his paws all over her.

Forcing the thought from his mind, his expression tight, he addressed his mother with a nod. “Are you prepared?” he asked. “Do you have everything you need?”

Lady Enya nodded, her hands clenching in her gown. “Yes,” she answered, clearing her throat. “I don’t wish to take anything with me but the clothes on my back. I have nothing of value that I shared with him.”

The words made him grimace. He knew his mother hadn’t meant her words to be about her sons but it didn’t stop the sting of knowing how she had held herself back. It didn’t hurt any less that she had endured all this because of them. For them.

The brothers shared a frown.

“I’ve checked with every one of my sources and nothing seems to be amiss,” Emil said, his arms crossed. “My soldiers are ready.”

Izak, seated next to their mother, nodded. “The same with mine. Everything is going according to plan.”

“What about Lucien?” Finn asked.

“I’ve been in touch. Everything is fine on his end.” Eris confirmed. “Winter and Dawn have given us passage to winnow from the court lines.”

“No questions asked?” Iris inquired carefully.

“Lucien has enough connections that no one bats an eye when he mentions he’s passing through with people,” he explained. “Especially when Helion and Rhys are welcoming. There’s no reason to object when there won’t be lingering.”

“Does Rhys know?” Lady Enya asked quietly.

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw. “Rhys has always known this day would come but he doesn’t ask questions. He knows it’s near.”

Finn shifted on his feet. ��We’ve checked and triple-checked everything. Things are going according to plan and yet…why does it feel like something isn’t right?”

“Because we’re a bunch of paranoid motherfuckers.” Izak said then glanced at his mother. “Apologies, mother.”

The corner of Iris’s lips twitched as her mother-in-law rolled her eyes at her son and she couldn’t help but let her gaze shift between the brothers and their mother, feeling slightly out of place. This was her first time meeting Emil and Izak personally and other than an awkward greeting, they kept their distance; the tension lining Eris’s back and the way he watched his brothers with every breath they took near her had Iris do the same. Given what Eris had shared with her about each of them, Iris couldn’t help but have a soft spot for the brothers who were all trying to find the light with love as they battled their own demons. It didn’t change how close Eris had her stand and if anything, his brothers understood his possessiveness too well, even if they didn’t know to what extent.

The last two nights seemed to escalate his levels of stress and Iris had watched him have to expel his anger, nearly setting their whole suite aflame to get himself through the day. He’d leave her early and return late, checking in with her periodically throughout the day and whenever he did, they would end up releasing his stress in a much more intimate way. Iris had found that whenever his body was draped over hers, was the only time he actually relaxed.

Even in his sleep, her husband struggled and she found herself awake more often, watching him as he shuddered through every breath.

Iris kept her eyes on Eris as he ran his tongue over his teeth, sharing a look with Emil. “We did find one idiot who was ready to sell out,” he said carefully. “He was hoping to get in with the High Lord and rise through the rankings.”

“And what happened to him?” Finn asked, his tone casual.

“By the time Eris and I got to him, our sentries had let him know exactly how they felt about ruining our chances,” Emil said, the corner of his mouth lifting. “We aren’t the only ones desperate for change.”

“I would’ve cut out his tongue.” Izak huffed.

“Emil did,” Eris said with a smile that didn’t reach his eyes. “Then we hung him in the center of the training ring with a knife lodged in his throat.”

“That seems unnecessary.” Lady Enya muttered mildly.

But Finn nodded at them. “Nice.”

“You have a very odd definition of nice.” Iris said with a raised brow and Finn’s answering grin was a little too sinister.

“I would’ve carved out his internal organs to hang him by and then pinned his body to the wall with knives so he could bleed to death, slowly and painfully. What they did was nice.” he said and Iris couldn’t help her grimace.

“Please –” their mother started and glanced at Eris who sighed.

“Let’s focus,” he waved a hand. “We have another week before this hell is over. Keep straightening things out. If you hear even a whisper of something, you let me know immediately.” Eris glanced back at his mother. “We wait for the signal that Helene, Theo, and Cosette are fine. We dance. We mingle. Once Father gives his bore of a speech like every year, Emil will be walking you to where you will meet Mikel and then to where you will meet Iris and Oren. From there, you two will pretend to walk towards your gardens until you cross the gates. Serphan will winnow you to Lucien and then report back to me. Helion will also be waiting.”

Lady Enya swallowed, a hand rubbing her throat. “And they – Lucien knows what to do in case something goes wrong?”

Eris nodded then gave them all a pointed look. “Rumor has it that our youngest brother was invited and he may be making an appearance,” he said. “Should he need to use it, he knows the code. Each of our sentries has a uniform color. Lucien knows my insignia and who he can ask if needed.”

A silence fell on the group and Iris’s gaze couldn’t help but flicker between them all. She couldn’t imagine how long they’d been waiting for this and how these last few days were causing more agony than anything else.

Lady Enya broke the silence first, rubbing a shaky hand to her forehead. “I’m – I’m sorry,” she whispered. “I’m sorry to be causing all this.”

A collective noise of disapproval rang from the brothers and she looked at them with a watery smile.

“But I am. I always will be,” she added, her grip tightening in the folds of her dress. “If I could stay and help avoid all this, I would but I — I can’t anymore.”

“Mother.” Finn chasted her gently and his expression tightened when Izak wrapped his burly arm around their mother’s delicate frame and kissed the top of her head.

“Don’t apologize,” Izak said. “We can’t keep living this way regardless.”

“Enough is enough,” Emil added solemnly. “We are more than what he’s forced us to be.”

Eris met his mother’s gaze. “You are a phoenix ready to rise from the ashes, remember?” he asked quietly. “Don’t look back now.”

Lady Enya glanced at each of her sons and then took a shaky breath. “You are all the light of my life. I am proud of each of you and know you will always be more than he could ever dream. Better than he could ever dare to be.” she said softly. “I love you.”

And Iris had to look away from them as each of the brothers, including her husband, flushed lightly at their mother’s words. But she could feel their content, felt how it filled them with joy and Iris felt an ache in her chest. She hadn’t met her own mother but Lady Enya had easily and so quickly filled that role. This wasn’t her moment and yet Iris felt so honored to be a part of it.

Clearing his throat, Izak gruffly mumbled, “We love you too.”

Lady Enya chuckled and patted Izak’s cheek. “I know, my beautiful boy,” she said, then sighed quietly, straightening. “Do not underestimate him. He will not respond well and I know he has something up his sleeve.”

“The bridal party waiting for us isn’t for nothing,” Emil mused. “He’s invited every influential family in the court and somehow, they all have eligible daughters.”

“We dance and we mingle,” Eris repeated his instructions firmly. “Lying is a form of art we’ve excelled at for years. It won’t kill you to dance with a potential bride to keep up the ruse.”

“Yeah, but Helene might kill me.” Izak mumbled and Finn snorted as Iris’s lips twitched.

“Considering Father might kill you first should you not dance, you’ll have to risk it,” Eris said dryly. “He’s surrounding himself with people like him for a reason. He believes in the strength of numbers and has purposely kept some of the guest list names from mother.”

“I think it’s a mighty coincidence that this particular ball is the one he’s having potential brides from powerful families attend,” Emil said. “If the High Lord is promising your daughter a prince, you’d be more than happy to side with a tyrant than against him.”

“It might not be to the extent that families have turned,” Finn said. “But it doesn’t help us if he has some of them present.”

Izak shook his head. “Those families have always been in his pocket, they keep each other comfortable. We knew this.”

“Those families are full of nothing but lofty words.” Lady Enya added. “Nothing in the preparations should change but I still don’t think you should trust them.”

Finn glanced at Eris. “Once we’re done with Father, we get to clean out the garbage, right?”

“Whoever does not bend to the new ruling will be taken out immediately,” Eris said, his expression tightening. “We know who these people are. They have one chance to make the right choice or they won’t live to make another one.” He glanced at each of his brothers. “This is the only shot we have to disinfect this court and make it into something worth living in. This is bigger than just us.”

“You should anticipate your father being there.” Lady Enya said to Iris. “He was one of the people the High Lord insisted on adding to the guest list and I don’t see Aron declining the invitation.”

Iris grimaced, her fists clenching at her sides. “I have no doubt he’ll be there,” she said then glanced at Eris. “Even if he knows he’s not wanted.”

“Especially if he knows he’s not wanted,” Eris muttered. “He knows what awaits him should he step one toe out of line.” And he forced himself to roll his shoulders back, pushing back the surge of anger thumping in his chest at the mention of his father-in-law. He glanced at Izak instead and waved a hand for a letter to appear then flicked it to his brother. “Lucien let me know this morning that Helene and her mother have been settling in nicely. She sent you a letter.”

Izak caught it and held it tightly, nodding at Eris. “Thank you.”

Eris nodded back and then glanced at Emil. “Cosette?”

“She’s ready to leave.” his brother answered tightly.

“Adler?”

“He knows his orders.”

Eris nodded again and ran a hand through his hair. “We have to be on guard for anything.”

“I know.”

Eris shifted as he stared at his family, feeling the blood pumping beneath his skin. “If –”

“Eris.” Emil’s calm tone cut through his. “We’ve done every single thing we could. The only thing we can do is set it in motion and make it through.”

Taking a breath through his nose, Eris let his head fall back, his eyes on the open air above them. “I won’t pretend I’m not filled with dread and it’s been getting harder to tighten the leash on my powers,” he mumbled then fixed his gaze back on his brothers. “I set fire to one of the stables yesterday because Father made a snippy comment.”

“What a pity he wasn’t standing in it,” Finn said, his lips twitching and Eris snorted.

“Pity, indeed.”

Iris’s gaze locked on Eris and his tightened shoulders and she couldn’t help stepping closer to him, her hand sliding to his back as she leaned into him. He glanced at her with a thin smile then cleared his throat, addressing them all.

“He’s going to make this a hard fight. We fight as dirty as he does.” Eris said firmly. “Whatever it takes.”

It fell silent as his brothers nodded. His mother’s eyes welled up again, and Eris had to look away from her so it didn’t pain him. He glanced at Iris instead, and even though her smile was a small sad one, it managed to loosen a breath from his chest. Whatever it took, he would crawl his way out of this and back to her.

“Well,” Finn began and Eris let out a long-suffering sigh echoed by Emil and Izak. “He can’t kill all of us, right? One of us has to survive him to continue the Vanserra line.”

“Finn.” Eris warned as their mother made a noise of distress.

“What? I’m only reassuring you once again, that if the task comes to me, I would be happy to marry all your lovely ladies and take care of them should you all bite the dust at the ball,” Finn said graciously.

“Don’t you have a certain someone in your life?” Iris asked, holding back a laugh and Finn waved a hand good-naturedly.

“He’s very reasonable, you’ll love him,” he reassured Iris as he wiggled his brows at her. “You won’t mind having sister wives, right? As the wife of my oldest brother, you would be my first wedded, of course.”

Before Eris could do more than snarl rather viciously at his brother’s teasing, Iris held a hand to her husband’s chest and raised a brow at Finn. “It’s sweet you think you can handle one wife, much less three,” she said then turned back to Eris. “If you bite the dust as your brother says, I promise I won’t marry him.” She patted his chest gently. “But, you’ll be perfectly safe so there’s nothing to worry about. You don’t need to punch him.”

Eris scowled then narrowed his eyes at Finn’s smug smile. “I still want to punch him.”

“We can save it for another day. When all this is over.” Iris couldn’t help but glance at the rest of them. “When we’re all safe. You can punch each other all you want then.”

“Your wife is an optimist,” Emil noted, tilting his head at her curiously. “What a fate to be married to a Vanserra.”

Iris’s lips twitched then made a show of stepping back to run her gaze down Eris’s body and back up. Eris’s brow lifted as she made a noise of approval. “Well, he is pretty so it balances out all the struggle,” she said and Eris rolled his eyes as she turned back to shrug at his brothers. “It isn’t much, but it’s honest work.”

Izak’s head tipped back with a laugh as Finn hooted and Emil couldn’t help his chuckle.

And Eris wanted to devour her when she gave him a cheeky smile that made him roll his eyes again. “Hysterical,” he deadpanned, the tips of his ears heating at his mother’s small smile.

“I told you she was funny,” Finn said to his brothers.

“My wife’s jokes and Finn’s enthusiasm to marry females who won’t want him aside –” Eris began, warning Finn with a look when his brother opened his mouth. “We’ve lingered enough, I think. Should anything else come up, be quick and be discreet.”

The brothers let themselves slowly disperse with Emil vanishing first then Finn. Izak delayed for a moment and approached Iris with a thin smile. Eris’s brow quirked up as his brother ran a hand over his beard, his expression curiously cautious. “I just wanted to say…I think you and Helene would get along well,” he said and glanced at Eris before meeting Iris’s gaze. “It’s not easy being married to a Vanserra but…I think you two could be friends. If – if you wanted.”

Iris’s smile was warm. “Based on what Eris mentioned to me, I think so too. I look forward to meeting her when I can.” she said then added quietly, “Congratulations on the pregnancy.”

Izak flushed, pleased as he nodded. “Thank you. I’ll see you again at the ball.”

As Izak departed and only his mother remained, Eris gave her a moment as she took in her gardens, her expression tight. He knew this place had always been a sanctuary for her and though she’d be leaving it behind for a better place, he knew it wouldn’t be easy.

“Mother.”

Lady Enya turned towards him. “Yes?”

“If needed…will you be ready to use your magic?” he asked carefully and his mother took a breath, nodding.

“Yes. Whatever I can do, I will support your every step,” she said, her expression shifting into grim determination. “Whatever it takes, Eris.”

He nodded at his mother then shared a glance with his wife and Iris’s smile was tight as Eris promised, “Whatever it takes.”

Eris blinked and as the ball crept closer, he barely slept. He went about his daily routine, spent time with his wife, and plotted through the night. He tried to be more relaxed, tried to stay focused but as everything slowly came together, he couldn’t help but anticipate that something would go wrong. He’d readjusted his plan with Oren, Mikel, and Seprhan twice already; he was driving his friends crazy.

The feeling intensified when it was finally the night before the ball and his Father summoned him to the throne room. Eris had hesitated for only a moment in front of the door, the memory of the last time he was summoned here lingering in the back of his mind. But he forced himself forward and allowed himself a glance around the room as he walked towards where his father stood, taking in the splendor of decor as he went. His mother always outdid herself with the way she planned for these events. He knew how this particular event was one of significance and didn’t miss the little signs around the room. The abundance of gold. The wisps of fire magic. The miniature phoenix art scattered around the room. His lips couldn’t help but twitch.

Eris paused a healthy distance from the High Lord who stood with his back to him, facing the throne. As his Father deliberately took his time to acknowledge him, Eris ran his tongue over his teeth and made himself take a deep breath, schooling his expression into that careful calm he desperately needed around his least favorite person.

After a few moments of silence, Eris clenched his fists behind his back and cleared his throat. “You called, Father.”

Beron glanced over his shoulder and then made a noise of disapproval as he turned to face his son. The two watched each other in silence and though Eris was used to his father’s mind games, something about this summoning felt…sinister.

Beron gestured for Eris to come closer and immediately, his shoulders couldn’t help tensing further.

But Eris moved and stopped at the place Beron had pointed to, right in front of him. “Do you know why I called you here, son?”

“I really hope it’s because you missed me,” Eris said with a thin smile. “Otherwise my feelings will be hurt.”

Beron snorted. “Funny,” he said and shifted his head slightly as he watched Eris. “I wonder if you get your humor from your wife. I hear she’s very funny.”

A beat of silence passed and Eris felt his heart nearly leap out of his chest. “Pray tell, who has been passing along her jokes?”

His father’s answering smile made Eris’s fists tighten. “The wind carries all kinds of whispers, son. I didn’t realize it was a secret.”

The moment stretched between them and Eris tried to keep the beating of his heart calm as his father watched him. What did that even mean? Who was talking?

The High Lord’s mouth curled and Eris tried to tamper down his agitation as his father added, “Then again, everything about your wife would be a secret if it was up to you.”

Eris’s expression flattened. “Are we really doing this again, Father?” he said and tried to keep his tone even. “I thought we were past this.”

“Of course, of course,” Beron said casually. “Though how sensitive you are about her is still concerning, I suppose we have other things to worry about with our big event tomorrow.”

Tension lined Eris’s spine as he watched his father watch him, every sentence loaded with words left unsaid, and Eris’s mind scrambled to catch it all. “Indeed,” he said carefully. “What can I assist you with, Father?”

“Always so eager to assist, son,” Beron said. “Sometimes I forget just how much.”

Eris’s gaze narrowed slightly in confusion. He didn’t want to believe his father was bored and wasting his time like this. Eris could barely keep awake these days; with this last night, he wanted to be alone with his wife. His mate. He wanted that fucken time with her.

Yet here he was, squandering that time with this.

“Is there anything about the event tomorrow you’d like me to do? I do believe everything has been taken care of.”

“I didn’t call you here for that.” Beron said and Eris lifted a brow.

“If not that, to what do I owe the pleasure of being here?”

The words seemed to cause a slight shift in his father and Eris noted exactly when his expression went from amused disdain to anger.

“You overstep and I tire of it.”

Eris blinked. “Oh?”

“You are my eldest son. I acknowledge that a certain load of responsibility has been expected of you and even added to your shoulders. You have always done your duty as required and yet…” Beron pursed his lips, his gaze narrowing. “The past few months, you have overstepped so very often.”

Eris forced his expression into polite indifference. “Is there something I did in particular that bothered you deeply enough to summon me?” he asked and his father’s eyes narrowed. “I would like to ensure I apologize profusely for my errors.”

“You and that fucken mouth of yours.” Beron snarled and backhanded Eris so quickly he barely took a breath, his face snapping to the side and Eris nearly swore at the sheer force that went into his father’s hand.

Oh, the High Lord was pissed to be this triggered by his tone.

Eris ran his tongue over his teeth, slowly facing his father again and he knew there was nothing to be done about the anger that coursed through his body – anger he knew the High Lord felt despite the bland expression Eris managed to push through on his face. “That seemed rather unnecessary.” he managed to say lightly, even though his fisted hands were shaking violently behind his back. “Was it something I said, High Lord?”

And this time when his father lifted his hand in warning, Eris leaned back, his expression flattening again. “I can handle words, Father. You don’t need to put your hands on me to tell me when I’ve supposedly wronged you.”

His father’s mouth curled in anger and the High Lord stepped into Eris’s personal space even further. “Back away from me again and a flogging pole will be the least of your worries.”

A strained silence pulsed in the air between them and Eris knew he was venturing into dangerous territory when he couldn’t hold in his humorless laugh and his father’s eyes narrowed.

“And get blood all over the floor? That wouldn’t be the kind of welcome you’d want to give our guests.”

Beron yanked Eris by the front of his tunic. “Keep speaking in that sarcastic tone and your body hanging by the gates will be what welcomes the guests instead.”

Eris felt his fire nearly burst out of him, his anger shooting up his spine but he held that leash on his magic and held it tight because he wouldn’t blow up here. Given the kind of pressure he’d been under the last three weeks, it would be so fucken easy to unleash everything and be done.

But no. Not now. Not when they were so fucken close. Not when they could wipe the slate clean in front of the whole court and step into a new age with history on their side.

Nevertheless, Eris couldn’t stop the steam from pouring out of him and he certainly couldn’t stop his glare when his Father’s cold smirk appeared.

“I don’t know if that would match the theme Mother’s going for this year.” Eris said tightly as he tried to reign in his anger even as Beron’s answering chuckle was laced with cruelty.

“You keep speaking to me that way and your mother will have more things to worry about than her tacky theme.” Beron spat then shoved Eris back. “Fix your face and apologize.”

A muscle flexed in Eris’s jaw as father and son stared down one another. They had barely started talking and his father was already goading him just to lay hands on him. Had the High Lord sensed anything amiss? What was it that seemed to be putting his father in such a foul mood?

Eris’s hands remained behind his back, flexing his fingers then fisting them again as he forced himself to bow his head and as calmly as he could choke out said, “Apologies, High Lord.”

Beron’s head cocked to the side. “An apology should come with a full bow, boy. Do not disrespect me.”

Eris’s expression blanked immediately and he forced his body not to react negatively, not to tense further. His well of power would not be blown away on this. This was nothing. He’d tolerated more.

So forcing himself once more, Eris bowed fully to his father and said as dull as possible, “Apologies, High Lord.”

His father said nothing for a moment and Eris took the opportunity to glare at the sparkling floors they stood on. When another minute ticked by in silence, he couldn’t help but lift his head to find his father smirking at him. And that was never good.

Especially when he opened his mouth and said, “Your wife says my High Lord. You should say it the way she does.”

Eris’s body straightened before he could stop himself, his vision going red and the only thing that managed to hold him back from ripping his father’s throat out was the laugh that slipped out of the High Lord’s mouth, mocking him.

“You’re so easy to rile these days.” Beron taunted. “Which goes to show you how bad of an influence that wife of yours is.” Giving Eris a sly look, his father continued, “Maybe you should pick out a new bride tomorrow.”

Eris didn’t bother fighting back his eye roll, despite how much his clenched fists were shaking. “This conversation is getting tedious, Father,” he said curtly. “May I please know what it is you wish to discuss with me?”

The High Lord’s expression filled with contempt as he stared down his son, the silence between them was heavy with trepidation.

“Tedious, you say.”

“Yes. We both know there are about a thousand other things we could be doing instead of this little dance between us.”

Beron made a disinterested noise. “I had no plans other than to fuck your mother this evening. Though her lack of enthusiasm doesn’t make it as enjoyable as it could be, it is better than nothing.”

“Are you fucking kidding me?” Eris snapped and nothing could stop his fists from catching flame. “Show some respect when you speak about her.”

And Eris knew his father’s fist would fly out. He let it. He let the taste of blood fill his mouth as he staggered back a step from the blow. His father seemed to be spiraling. He had lashed out at stupid things before but this? To this extent? Eris felt the pit of his stomach give out. Could it be that something had slipped through the cracks?

“I will speak about my wife as I see fit. You do not get to insert yourself between us.” Beron spat and Eris wiped a hand at his mouth with a huff of disbelief. His father’s expression of disdain remained as he took a step closer to his son. “This is your problem. You are always inserting yourself in places you don’t need to be. You do it with your mother. You do it with your brothers. You did it in a meeting the other day with our council while I was in the room.” The High Lord glared and Eris had to fight with all the willpower he had to calm his shaking hands – to smother his flames. “You know why I called you here? To discuss how you intervened between me and your brothers the other day. An intervention I did not welcome.” His father’s gaze raked over his face. “I’ve tolerated your overstepping in the past because you followed orders – you get things done. However, I will not tolerate your overstepping tomorrow, especially in front of the many important guests that will be present. You will remember your place and watch how you behave.”

The High Lord’s voice was nothing but a lethal threat as he said, “The next time you get between me and your brothers so carelessly like that, you will take the brunt of their discipline.”

Eris tried to keep his expression from shifting at the promise filled with violence. This whole conversation was bringing all the stress he had been carrying and crashing it down on his head. It seemed that indeed, his command of his brothers had finally seemed to bother his father enough that he was finally saying something about it. What convenient fucken timing.

Beron’s expression morphed into one of cruel amusement. “Your hair is only just starting to grow out. It’s too early for another new look, don’t you agree?”

And the warning was clear – a reminder of what the High Lord would be happy to do again in this very room.

Eris pursed his lips, his heart thundering in his chest at his father’s gaze filled with violence as clear as the tone he used. He nearly choked as his magic surged up again, desperately wanting to answer it but instead, Eris forced himself to breathe slowly, the leash on his magic held tight as he said carefully, “I merely wished to help, Father. I didn’t realize it would bother this much.”

“I do not require your help to make your brothers fall in line. You should be falling in line with them.” the High Lord snapped. “Your help has become an insult.”

Eris’s jaw worked and again, he forced himself to bow his head graciously even though he wanted to do anything but – his father had already laid his hands on him twice; he couldn’t afford to keep giving him reasons to lash out. So Eris only said, “Duly noted.”

Silence stretched between them and Eris waited, knowing a threat was coming up. His father liked to play games and loved to waste his time. Minutes ticked away and Eris couldn’t help the flare of his nostrils when his father’s mouth curled up.

“Eris.”

“Father.”

“Tomorrow is a very big day,” Beron said slowly and took a step closer to him. “I’d hate for things to go wrong should any of you decide to do something foolish.”

A chill skittered down his spine but Eris’s expression remained politely bored. The comment didn’t have to mean anything. His father didn’t know anything. The High Lord was only lashing out because Eris hadn’t said the right things to him, because he wasn’t being as careful as he could be. He would blame it on the stress and would not let himself believe anything else.

“Other than drinking excessively,” he said as nonchalantly as possible, “I don’t foresee any trouble.”

Beron hummed, watching Eris in a way that always made his skin crawl. “Your father-in-law will be in attendance. I expect you and your wife to behave accordingly.”

Annoyance flashed on Eris’s face before he could stop it. “I am aware. He’ll do well to steer clear of us completely, Father. That is my only request to you.”

“And if I refused?”

Eris forced his expression to blank pleasantness again, noting the movement of his father’s hands. “Then I cannot promise there won’t be trouble should his path cross ours.”

“Is that a threat, son?”

“Never, Father,” he said with a small smile. “I am merely setting expectations.”

Beron’s eyes narrowed and it was a deadly type of silence between them, the type of silence that Eris knew, had his father not needed him to be presentable tomorrow, Eris’s face would’ve met his fire rather than his fist. “You were my favorite son.” his father said quietly. “I do not like who you’ve become.”

Eris could only slowly shrug his shoulders. “I’m sorry to be of constant disappointment, Father,” he replied and wished he could tell his father exactly how sorry he was – how much being the so-called favorite had cost him.

Beron scowled and grabbed Eris’s face with a hand, tugging him closer. “Do not think I haven’t noticed how abysmal your attitude has been lately but I will warn you one last time,” his father said quietly, enough violence in his tone that Eris knew not to move. “Should you do anything that isn’t a direct order from me – anything that isn’t what I expect of you, I will make you pay in ways that’ll be worse than your nightmares.” Beron shoved him back and Eris couldn’t help his expression darkening at his father’s glare. “All this family has ever been is disappointing. Let’s hope you and your useless brothers don’t make matters worse for yourselves tomorrow.”

The High Lord shoved past Eris but paused half a step away and Eris turned his head without a word, only raising a brow at the loaded silence between them.

But then his father’s nostrils flared and Eris felt his blood run cold. He didn’t dare breathe and mentally checked his shields, knowing he had reinforced it around his scent before he came anywhere near his father, and yet…what exactly was the High Lord sensing?

His father merely gave him a once over then spat, “I’ll see you and your wife tomorrow. I hope you remember to make good choices.”

And the High Lord’s goodbye felt like a promise full of death. Eris waited a few moments in tense silence, his blood thumping in his ears and when he was sure he was indeed alone, he closed his eyes to let out a deep shaky breath, feeling steam rise from his hands. His anxiety had returned in full force at his father’s departure. His father couldn’t have sensed anything, could he? Eris had glamoured his scent well; no one could note his mating bond, especially without Iris near him. If his father had scented his wife on him, that wouldn’t be unusual but Eris was too careful even for that.

He ran a shaky hand through his hair and let himself linger for another moment, eyes flickering around the room, letting himself see it as it was for the last time. With a sigh, he turned on his heels and left the throne room.

He needed to warn his brothers.

–

Iris watched as Eris finally stepped into their suite and slammed the door behind him. He had taken longer than she had anticipated and the anxiety that had been squeezing around her chest immediately loosened when she saw that he was whole and unharmed. Her heart had stopped when Eris had told her about the High Lord’s meeting and the only reason Iris had survived waiting was because she distracted herself on the piano.

Everything was supposed to be set. Everything was in place and yet, the tension that seeped into the room with him made her nervous. She hated that what could be their final night together was filled with such emotions.

She rose from her place on the piano and walked over to him then stopped in her tracks, noting the slight bruise on his cheek, the cut on his lip. “What happened.”

Her voice was more hushed than intended but if not for that, Iris knew she would start to panic. She moved closer until she stood before him and let her healing senses reach out, not wanting to touch him just yet – not until she was sure he wanted her touch at this moment. But she sensed nothing amiss aside from the evidence on his face and had to swallow when she met his blank stare. “What was this about?” she asked softly.

Eris had to calmly count to ten and let out a long breath before he could speak, “I seemed to have gotten under the High Lord’s skin when I supposedly overstepped and intervened between him and my brothers the other day.” he explained and Iris watched with a grimace as his fists tightened at his sides. “He wanted to remind me of my place and to watch my tone because apparently, my sarcasm doesn’t translate well.”

“So he finally noticed and said something about it?”

“Funny how he’s always benefited from me doing all his work for him and now has the nerve to get annoyed by it,” Eris grumbled then shook his head. “He wanted to warn us – me to behave tomorrow.”

Iris felt her heart stutter in her chest. “Warn how?”

“He wanted to make sure I didn’t intervene in my brother’s whore parade so they could pick wives.”

Iris brows furrowed. “Given that they’re all in committed relationships, I don’t think it’s going to go the way he wants.”

“Hopefully, by the end of the night tomorrow, he’ll be dead and we won’t have to worry about him at all,” Eris spat and rolled his head back, breathing deeply and Iris felt his frustration seep off him.

She frowned and stopped in front of him, assessing his expression then reached out a hand to gently touch him. She waited a heartbeat, giving him the chance to push her hand away if he wanted to but Eris couldn’t seem to help but shudder at the touch, and after a moment’s hesitation, he turned his face to kiss her hand softly. “You’re almost there. Tomorrow, you all will be free of him. You’ve prepared as best as you can.” she said softly, letting her magic wipe away his hurt.

“I know and yet, I don’t feel prepared at all,” he said quietly and Iris had never seen his eyes so tired. “I feel like it’s going to all go to hell and I’m going to drag you all down with me.”

Iris cupped his face and forced him to meet her gaze. “Everyone is ready to go down swinging with you, Eris. This is not on your shoulders alone,” she said. “Please…unburden yourself.”

He shook his head slowly and pulled her hands from his face to hold in his own. “My head isn’t wired to do that,” he said. “I’m thinking about all of the things that could go wrong.”

“But what about all the things that could go right?” Iris asked, squeezing his hands.

Eris’s chuckle was weak. “How I ended up with an optimistic wife really is a comical event. You truly did marry into the wrong family.”

The corner of Iris’s mouth lifted. “Fate does work in mysterious ways.”

“Indeed,” he agreed, then took a step back, his expression shifting. “Do you have all your items prepared for tomorrow? Aside from the bag we sent ahead to Lucien and Elain’s.”

She tried not to let her face fall and nodded. “I have a small satchel and daggers to hide beneath my dress.”

“You know where you’ll be meeting Oren?”

“Yes.”

“And the drop-off location where you’ll winnow to reach Lucien?”

“Yes, Eris,” she said wearily. “We went over all this in the morning.”

“And we shall review it again tomorrow. I cannot take any risks when it comes to you.” he said and Iris gave him a knowing look.

“I know,” she said quietly. “Do you want to try and get some sleep? It’s going to be a long day tomorrow.”

Eris shook his head, his fists clenching at his sides. “I don’t know if I’ll be able to sleep. I’m too tense. Too nervous.” he said and licked his lips, glancing at her in a way that made her pause.

She waited a heartbeat then asked, “...Is there something else?”

He seemed to hesitate for a moment, his expression tight but with a sigh, Eris explained quietly, “When he was walking away from me, he paused a step away and…seemed to sense something in the air next to me.”

Iris froze in his arms. “And you think that means…he knows something?”

“I don’t know,” he whispered. “Why else would he do that? You mentioned in the stables he seemed to sense something around you. What if he sensed something from me? What if he knows?”

“Eris –”

“Iris, I can’t – how can I —” he growled and his grip on her tightened. “If he knows and pulls some shit tomorrow that would harm you in any way I —”

“Eris.” Her tone was firm enough that it made him pause, his expression stricken in a way that made her chest ache for him. “It doesn’t necessarily mean anything.”

“How can you –”

“And what if he does? What does it matter?” Iris asked. “Tomorrow, things will change regardless. What does it matter if he finds out about our bond now?”

Eris’s expression fell and his whisper was hoarse, “Because this is the one thing – you are the one thing that is all mine. I don’t want his mark on it.”

Iris felt her heart crack, the same way it always did when she thought of the way he’d lived his life constantly on edge, constantly thinking and planning and scheming. She didn’t want this particular night together to be this way. He needed some peace and Iris needed him just as badly as he needed peace.

“It doesn’t matter what or if he does anything,” she said quietly but not weakly. “I am yours and you are mine and whatever tomorrow brings, we will face it. He doesn’t get to win.”

Eris struggled not to tremble at her determined gaze. That he had someone to worry about was one thing but to have someone — her — worry about him like this? He could truly never bring her peace and yet – she looked at him like this. Like she lov— loved him.

As he loved her.

“What do you need?” Iris found herself whispering, reaching out a hand to gently touch his face again and a thrill always did go through her at how many times she could make him shudder with her touches. Iris waited, watching as he worked his jaw, swallowing before his eyes met hers. Without saying anything, she could feel his every emotion and concern. The thread at her ribcage was a path to his every thought and she gently tugged at it as for once, her husband let his emotions flicker across his face. The panic, the worry, the desperation, and Iris would do anything to bring him ease.

After an eternity, his response was a broken rasp, “You. I only need you.”

Iris softened and stepped closer, Eris's arm immediately wrapping around her waist to pull her into him. “You have me,” she said softly and kissed the corner of his mouth. “I am here, with you. I am yours.”

He licked his lips, his chest rising and falling rapidly, without saying a word, the look they shared conveyed exactly what he needed – wanted, and always craved. He needed her in every way. He needed to only see her tonight. To only feel her.

Her eyes didn’t waver from his as she slowly slid a hand down his chest. She knew exactly what he needed to be able to get through this night and Iris wanted nothing more than for them to feed into their feelings. Her hand continued down, past the waistband of his trousers until her hand wrapped around his impressive length and Eris hissed as she squeezed him, slowly pumping. His arm tightened around her, tension lining every inch of him even as their mouths were a breath apart.

“Tell me what you need,” she whispered but Eris couldn’t do anything but watch the blush across her cheeks, trying not to have his eyes roll back as she tightened her grip. His breath stuttered as she leaned in closer to him, pumping him leisurely as she spoke, “Do you want me on my knees? Should I take you in my mouth?” Eris groaned and closed his eyes, leaning into her slightly when Iris quickened her pace and then slowed down. “Tell me what I can do to make you feel good.”

“I want you everywhere.” he rasped and opened his eyes, his gaze filled with a desperate kind of heat that Iris felt seep into her bones. “Anything you want. Everything you’re willing to give me. I want this night to be just about you and me. For nothing else to matter.”

“Then nothing else has to matter right now,” she said softly. “It’s always just you and me.”

Eris licked his lips, his request for permission written all over his face, and every desperate thought and emotion he had spilled into his next word, “Please.”

All it took was a nod from his wife and any restraint Eris had snapped. His kiss was as desperate as he felt, chasing her lips and Iris whimpered into his mouth, her hands digging into his back, quickly backing her into the table of their dining room.

“I — I can’t be gentle right now.” He said urgently in between his kisses, his hands moving as quickly as hers, both trying to undress the other. “If you don’t want that — please tell me now I don’t want to —“

But she held up her hand and Eris froze immediately, breathing heavily with her barricaded between his arms. Tonight, there would be nothing gentle about their coupling. With how high stakes everything would be tomorrow, all Iris wanted – needed was him. “I don’t want gentle," Iris said quietly. "I want whatever you'll give me.”

The demand in her tone had a noise he never thought he could make slip from his throat and Eris surged forward to claim her lips once more, searing himself into her.

His hands couldn’t move fast enough; he shoved her dress down her body, undergarments with it and Eris only got a second to admire her body before getting distracted by Iris’s own hands practically ripping off his clothing and in an instant, he helped her send them flying. He turned her around, pushing her body down and Iris hissed at the sensation of the cold table to her heated naked body. She couldn’t help but lean forward even further, presenting herself to him, and couldn’t stop the mewl that slipped from her lips when he smacked her ass.

She looked over her shoulder and found Eris’s eyes on her, spreading her legs and Iris couldn’t stop the arch of her hips, biting her lip with a soft moan when his fingers slipped into her already wet folds.

“This is going to be hard and fast. I promise to be nice to you later but now…now I need to fuck you, wife.” He said and the low tenor of his voice made her hips arch back further, her breaths in time with his fingers teasing her entrance. “You understand?”

“Then you better fuck me hard, mate.” she said and Eris’s breath shuddered as she whispered, “I’m all yours.”

“Brace yourself,” was all he said before Eris thrust into her without preamble, and Iris let out a ragged moan, clutching onto the table as he had her. Eris fisted a hand in her hair and fucked her at a vicious pace and she could do nothing but bend over further for him, whimpering helplessly.

Her body took him and his brutal pace, Iris groaning as Eris grunted into her ear and Iris felt her impending release slowly start to build. The sensation of his tight grip on her hair, his other hand firmly on her back to keep her down was fueling a lust like never before in her.

It made her realize that she desperately liked it when he unleashed himself on her. That in fact, she loved that he was fucking her like this, especially as he thrust into her so hard again, he hit a spot she hadn’t thought existed until him.

Looking over her shoulder, her breath quickened at the sight of the fire blazing in his eyes as he claimed her.

“Husband.” She gasped and Eris’s eyes snapped up to her, the hand on her back sliding to her ass and squeezing.

“Wife.”

“Harder.” She demanded and Eris’s eyes glazed over, the words driving him into a frenzy. He growled so deeply, goosebumps erupted all over her and the hand fisted in her hair pulled her head back so he could claim her lips, bruising her with a kiss.

“Gladly, mate.” he purred.

She shuddered and tried to meet his pace but Eris had unleashed himself completely and her husband was gone. Pushing her down fully on the table, the grip on her hips was deliciously painful as he thrust wildly.

There was no hope for her to catch up and Iris happily let him claim her, her release creeping closer – knowing how much they needed this with all that tomorrow would bring. The sound of his heavy breathing, the sound of their bodies meeting, and finally when he smacked her ass hard enough she knew there would be a mark, Iris shattered with a delicate cry.

Eris grunted and didn’t give her a moment to shudder through her climax as he pulled out, his length hard and wet with her release. He turned her over so fast and before she could realize what was happening, her husband had her flat on her back on the table.

Yanking her to the edge, he spread her legs for him and slapped her cunt, rubbing the slickness of her release in her folds. “I didn’t ask you to come.” He purred, his tone just a little mean and Iris arched her back off the table with a throaty groan as he slapped her sex again. “You like it when I slap your cunt, wife? Your cunt that belongs to me?”

But Iris was having a hard time getting her mouth to form words and could only breathe heavily, nodding.

“I want to hear your answer, little gazelle.” he growled and slapped her cunt again, the sting a little harder and Iris cried out.

“Yes.” Iris wouldn’t bring herself to be embarrassed at the whimper that left her lips when he did it once more with a savage grin.

“That’s my good girl.”

Iris’s eyes rolled to the back of her head as his hips snapped into hers and held, the sensation so overwhelmingly good she could already feel another release building.

The blaze in his eyes become more prominent, predatory as he pulled back only to pound into her again, his thrusts frantic and the pace merciless, watching her take his cock; a choked sob slipping from Iris’s lips when he pushed her legs further apart and held down, the angle deepening his reach. Her hand slid to her clit and his smirk was wild as he watched her play with herself, her pace trying to match his.

“You take me so fucken good, wife. I need to fuck you in front of a mirror so you can see the way my cock fills you up. So you can see how your swollen cunt drips with need for me.” His voice was guttural and Iris bit her lips, the words only igniting more fire in her – more want. “You like it like this? You like it when I lose control? When I fuck you like an animal?”

“Yes.” She breathed and Eris clenched his jaw, his thrusts now desperate.

“My hand — your throat.” his words were barely understood as another choked whimper slipped from Iris and she begged,

“Please.”

Her plea had Eris’s hand slide to her throat and Iris’s mouth fell open at the sensation of his grip tightening slightly.

“You like that?” He ground out, snapping his hips into her hard enough, it caused her to shift back onto the table slightly.

But Iris could only gasp as he pulled her back to the edge of the table with a growl, his grip on her throat heightening all her other senses, her free hand clenching the hand on her throat desperately.

“I’m —“

“I’ll have you dripping all over this table momentarily, wife.” He snarled. “Patience.”

And Iris let him lose himself inside her as she lost herself in him. The feeling of being at his mercy like this would’ve had her breaking out in hives once upon a time but now she trusted him so thoroughly that giving him this type of control — control he needed – was so freeing. She was free falling and the sound of his rough grunts as he fucked her senseless sent her right over the edge once more with a tight moan.

“I said pati — fuck.” He growled and his thrusts became even more erratic as she clenched her walls around him, her body bowing off the table with a silent scream, her release coursing through her.

“Eris.” She whined and the sound of his name whispered from her lips undid him.

Eris cursed, pumping hard as he spilled himself inside her and Iris watched him through hooded eyes, relishing the way his eyes closed, the hand not on her throat gripping her thigh tight enough she knew it would bruise. He leaned over her, resting his head in the crook of her neck, his breathing unsteady as his thrusts slowed and Iris could only moan softly when he pressed himself in her and held again, his cock still pulsing inside her. Her thumb caressed the hand still wrapped around her throat and Iris licked her lips, pleasure still coursing through her.

When he finally opened his eyes and pulled back slightly, the sight of her underneath him, splayed beautifully, almost had him come again; he couldn’t bring himself to pull out of her, and judging by the way her walls still tightened around his shaft, Eris was sure she didn’t mind. He loved being inside her, loved it when she warmed his cock.

The fingers around her throat stroked her neck gently before he let go and peppered it with soft kisses that earned him a breathless sigh from his wife’s lips and he couldn’t help his small smile when he pulled back to meet her gaze.

And Eris felt his whole being crumble when she smiled softly at him and he couldn’t stop himself from leaning in and kissing her with such tenderness that Iris felt her heart break a little. This was the way it was between them – a little rough balanced in with a little soft; she was the only one who made him realize how much he needed that softness.

She pulled him closer with a hand on the back of his neck, the other on his chest, and wrapped her legs around his waist, the movement pushing him deeper inside her, and Iris had to bite her lip to swallow the wanton sound she knew would come out of her mouth. But she wanted to wrap her very being around him and keep him close to her heart, where he would be safe and whole and hers. She wanted him forever like this, in her arms as he kissed her and touched her and looked at her like she was the only one who mattered.

Their kiss deepened and when he shifted slightly, she wasn’t sure who made the breathless noise between them as she tightened around his cock again.

He shifted slightly, brushing a hair out of her face. “You’re trying to torture me, aren’t you?” he gasped and Iris giggled.

“I’m only giving you what you wanted.”

His gaze was smoldering and Iris felt her whole body heat as they shared a breath but Eris forced himself to pause, his eyes roaming her face. “Are you okay?” He asked quietly and Iris felt his nervousness start to creep up. “Did I —“

“You didn’t hurt me.” She said immediately and leaned up to leave a quick kiss on his neck, running a hand down his chest. “I liked it. I liked it a lot. In fact –” Iris slid her hands up his toned arms then down his back slowly until they settled on his backside and she squeezed, digging her nails into his flesh. Her cheeks flushed as he groaned, rocking into her. “I think you and I are far from finished.”

Eris’s eyes flashed with desire as her words ignited a fire within him; she always knew what he needed without saying a word. His wife. His friend. His mate.

She was his and he was hers and Eris – who had never even dreamed of this, would hold on to this glowing thread between them like the lifeline it was.

“You’re right,” he said and his voice was a sensuous caress as he leaned closer. “I am far from done with you, little gazelle.”

Little else was said as the two moved, and there was nothing soft about this claiming, nothing gentle about the need and desperation in their touches. Everything would change tomorrow and Eris couldn’t stop himself from letting himself be all wrapped up in her. For having this night of forgetting.

And Eris promised himself he would do whatever it takes for their tomorrow to have a tomorrow. Whatever it takes to bring them peace. Regardless of how many pieces he had to break himself to do it.

#eris vanserra #eris x oc #eris vanserra fanfic #acotar fanfiction #gfics #smtb chapters #hope to hear your thoughts in the tags/comments :)#to all my silent readers I love you and cherish you and I hope to hear from you!!#if you don’t want to be tagged anymore please let me know #no hard feelings :)#very long day otherwise this would've been posted earlier.#also debating whether to continue only posting it on ao3 because I’m a little burnt out from this tumblr rn #so if you haven’t subscribed to the story there I highly recommend!#had to repost lol

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that-gay-guy-from-hell · 2 years ago

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Fear of the Devil: Nero x G/N Reader

Summary: It always was the same nightmare. Spurred on by your inherently inferior humanity when compared to your hunting partner’s two halves. This fear consumed your mind every night and he’d always come to comfort you; so why are you still afraid of him?

Takes place in the time between the end of DMC 5 and the twin’s return from Hell. Nero and you live at DMC during this time to keep an eye on the shop and whatnot. When talking about his “Devil Bringer” I am talking about the DMC 5 version; the DMC 4 version is highkey ugly as fuck ngl. I also understand that you wouldn’t be able to get over something like this as quickly as you do; and as easily… Just let me have this lmaooo Fun fact: “Without You” is my longest (current) story at roughly 7845 words, this is my second longest at around 6645 (give or take due to editing) 🧸💞🧸 Y’all know the drill by now; You use this; https://devilmaycry.fandom.com/wiki/Revenant And this: https://devilmaycry.fandom.com/wiki/Agni_%26_Rudra Oh! You also have a pocket knife ;) 💞🧸💞 G/N reader x Soft Nero. Un-established relationship. Nero and you have known each other since you were kids and lived together in Fortuna. Violence is used against the reader; minor blood warning--universe typical violence. Dirty jokes and thoughts from both of you Fluffy comfort.

“Ha!” you shoved Nero’s shoulder playfully, “I win again.”

“Tch. Whatever,” the young hunter sauntered to the dartboard and pulled out the darts. This was the third round of 301 that you’d won against the teal devil; despite him boasting about having a "perfect" aim.

You stretched and cracked your back, “Think I’m gonna turn in for the night--if that’s alright.”

Nero walked over to the desk and put the darts away in the top drawer, “Yeah, probably a good idea--we’ve got an early morning.”

“Yeah, don’t remind me,” you sighed.

The coffee table made a loud scraping sound as you pulled it away from its spot. Then you moved to pull out the couch; revealing the bed you’d been using for the past few months.

“Hey…” Nero leaned his ass against the edge of the desk (totally not checking you out) and stared with a raised brow, “You sure you’re gonna be fine tonight? You can stay upstairs with me if you want.”

A part of you wanted to accept his offer, however, you shook your head ‘no’, “I’ll be fine, don’t worry about me.”

Nero’s lips turned to a thin line and he squinted at you, signifying he didn’t believe you. Over the past few weeks, you had woken him up almost every night by screaming bloody murder. Hell, some nights you’d wake up screaming several times. He’d never force you to talk about it; but, he was as concerned as he was curious about what nightmares plagued your mind. All he knew was that you were beyond terrified from how loud your heart was and the overwhelmingly intense smell of fear. Despite all this, you’d always refuse his offers of staying with him. He’d stay downstairs till you’d tell him to go back to his room.

Noticing his stare, you raised a brow, “What?”

The teal devil crossed his arms, “Would it help if I stayed down here? I don’t mind, you know.”

You shook your head, “I’m alright, thanks though.”

He stood upwards and pursed his lips as he sighed through his nose, “Fine, I’m leaving my door open just in case--don't hesitate if you need me, yeah?”

A small smile tugged at the corners of your mouth and you nodded, “Okay.”

He hesitated for a moment before deciding to saunter to the stairs, “Good night, hot stuff,” he winked and smiled.

You laughed and tried to ignore the small butterflies that had formed in your stomach, “Night, handsome.”

Nero smiled widely as a light pink blush dusted his features. The stairs creaked slightly as he went up them and to his room. Leaving you to your own devices.

You went over to the light switch, flipping the lights off. The shop was almost eerie when it was this dark and quiet. So, in an attempt to combat this, you turned on some soft music on your phone. The pull-out couch squeaked as you curled up on it. You hadn’t even fallen asleep yet and you already felt a coil of fear begin to form. A small amount of envy pricked at the edges of your mind at how Nero doesn’t have to sleep as often as you; even though he typically does. If you could have it your way, you’d never sleep again.

A heavy sigh left your lips as you inevitably drifted to sleep.

===

The two of you stood back to back; surrounded by a group of miscellaneous demons. Despite the aching of your battered body, you were smiling widely.

“Best of Three?” Nero held up Blue Rose and had a smile that matched your own.

“You’re so on,” in your hands you held your own firearm, Revenant.

With that, the two of you split apart.

Nero emptied the barrel of Blue Rose and then pulled out Red Queen. In a vain attempt at winning, he began to use his wings to pull demons from your sightline.

“Hey!” you glared at him, “That’s so cheating.”

He laughed, “Says the one who stole from me last time.”

Without your attention leaving Nero, you outstretched your arm backwards and killed a Hell Antenora with a single shot. You rolled your eyes, “Bullshit, I had to help you since you were buried neck-deep in demons.”

“I knew what I was doing!” Nero jested.

The both of you laughed as you turned your back to take care of a few scattered Hellbats.

“I think I’m owed a--” you turned around to face him; however he was gone, “Nero?”

Feeling a slight breeze on your neck, you turned around but saw nothing.

“Okay very funny,” you crossed your arms, “You can knock it off now.”

Still nothing.

Your eyes scanned the area around you. It’s strange, you feel like something changed but couldn’t place your finger on it. There was no noise, no movement, no more wind--hell, there wasn't even any scent in the air. It was completely barren.

Confused and slightly alarmed, you continued forward down the road. A feeling of being watched crept around the edge of your mind as you picked up your pace to a light jog.

“Nero!” you began to call out, hoping for some sort of response, “This isn’t funny. Come on Nero.”

As you pressed onwards, you swore that you were going in circles; which wasn’t possible, since you'd only been going straight forwards. All the while, you called out intermittently for your hunting partner and began to fear the worst.

After what seemed like a lifetime, you came upon a new area. You slowly stalked forwards into the open lot, Revenant in hand. A quick movement in the corner of your eye caught your attention; however, before you could get a shot off, you were swept off your legs by someone else’s.

Now sitting on the ground, you glanced around for the culprit. Your mind was racing as you frantically looked around unable to spot anyone. Upon returning to your feet, you saw something once more. This time, you were knocked forward. Revenant went flying outwards and your twin scimitars--Agni and Rudra--had been pulled from your back; leaving you defenseless. With a groan and grimace, you pushed yourself up onto your feet. You spit a wad of bloody saliva from your mouth and wiped your bloody (and broken) nose.

Panic set in as you saw the movement for a third time, you decided to shoulder-roll sideways and managed to dodge the attacker. Once out of your roll and back upright, you finally got a glimpse at your attacker.

“Nero?” a pit began to form in your stomach.

His stare was soulless and cold as he turned to you. Something was off about him, but you couldn’t place your finger on it.

You began to cautiously approach him, “What the fuck was that for? I was just fuckin’ with you earlier you didn’t have to--”

The young hunter lunged at you and tackled you to the ground, only making animalistic growling in response. His hand gripped around your neck; which was notably his Devil Bringer.

“Fuck-” you grabbed his forearm and feebly attempted to pull him off of you, “Nero!”

Nero’s grip only tightened. Seeing no other choice, you squirmed as much as possible trying to break his tight choke. All the while, you dug for your pocket knife. Once you found it, you jammed it as far as you could into his ribs which made him release you.

Not wasting the chance, you kneed him in the crotch and shoved him off of you; leaving your knife behind. You stood back up and got ready to fight; putting your hands up. He looked down at the small blade and pulled it from his body, not flinching in the slightest. A twitch of his lip pulled up one side of his mouth into a smirk; which was usually comforting, but all it did was make you go pale.

He pocketed the blade and reached upward to retrieve Red Queen from his back. Without breaking eye contact with you, he thrust the blade into the ground in front of him.

Challenging you.

Your heart was pounding as the two of you began to circle one another. Nero had never asked you to fight like this and that doesn’t even include the evident intent to harm you.

“Nero,” your voice was loud but still quivered with an incomprehensible fear, “You don’t have to do this…”

All you got in response was a lip-twitch and snarl. Your heart skipped a beat as you barely dodged his pounce forward. He continued to try and grab you as you played defense; what else were you supposed to do?

That’s when you got an idea; maybe he put Red Queen there not as a declaration of his challenge, but rather, to taunt you. You and your weak human existence. Nero knew that you were at a disadvantage, so he put his prized weapon there to give you a chance… or maybe you were grasping at straws. Regardless, it was quite difficult for you to wield such a heavy blade so it wasn't the best plan… but it was the only thing you could come up with.

You slowly moved the fight towards the center of the lot; moving you closer to your only chance of winning. After he lunged again, you moved to pull Queen from its resting spot. Surprisingly, you managed to pull it out with ease, however, Nero was right back on you. Without thinking you moved the blade in a large sweeping motion; spinning on your heels for momentum.

The hunter went flying. You winced as he hit the ground causing dirt to fly up into the air. You looked down at Red Queen's blade, it had been spattered with his blood. With great effort, you held the specialized durandal with both hands in front of you; unsure of how to properly use such a cumbersome weapon.

With wide eyes and a hard swallow, your blood ran cold upon seeing Nero stand. The slash along his middle had healed and he looked pissed. In an instant, Nero was in his triggered form.

His voice was warped and filled with cold anger, one you’d never seen nor heard from your partner.

You swung the blade as he sprinted at you, however, his wings caught the edge before the strike landed. The teal devil grappled your forearms and, as he stared you dead in the eyes, crushed the bones in your arms.

You screamed and unwillingly released Red Queen; giving Nero the blade. With a stumble back, you grimaced as tears pricked at your eyes. If you hadn't been through as many fights as you have, you definitely would have passed out. Thankfully your adrenaline from being in fight-or-flight kept you upright as you stood with a slight crouch; even if you couldn't fight. You were unable to feel your hands as you jumped back out of the swing from Red Queen.

However, that quickly changed when he used one of his wings to grab your arm. With all his strength he yanked your arm harshly against your backward movement and pulled it out of its socket.

“Fuck-!" your voice cracked as you yelled.

Nero charged you again, not letting up. The two of you continued this for a few swings before he grabbed your leg. It wasn’t clear if it was intentional or not, but Nero sloppily threw you off to the side into a nearby building. The bricks cracked from the sudden impact of your body. Blood flew from your mouth as you felt everything inside you lurch and contort in ways it shouldn’t.

You landed on your side with your back to the building, leaving you to face and watch Nero. Each one of his steps made your body panic, doing everything you could to try and move. Ignoring the screaming pain of your body, you desperately clawed at the ground to move but it was hopeless. He stopped only a few feet from you.

Using his wings, he picked up from the ground; making you shout in sheer anguish. You were held in front of him as if you were nothing but a piece of meat being examined. His eyes were sharp as they locked with yours and you began to cry; unable to recognize your childhood friend through that goldenrod stare.

Without a second thought, Nero plunged Red Queen through your middle and pinned you into the building behind you. Your mind went blank as you felt the searing blade slice through everything inside you.

“Pathetic,” Nero’s eyes never left yours as he twist the blade and handle; adding to your pain.

Through your screams you heard something, someone, calling out to you.

===

The next thing you knew you were awake. Your head was spinning as you jolted upwards and violently grabbed whatever was in front of you… Which ended up being Nero’s neck.

“Hey--!” Nero grabbed your forearm, trying to make you release your death grip.

Which worked, kind of… you shoved him back and made him land flat on the floor. You then retreated as far back on the couch as you could, your mind still clouded in fear.

Nero groaned and stood up. He was in nothing but a shitty grey t-shirt and dark-sage-colored boxers with his hair an absolute mess. Without thinking, he piped up using his normally abrasive tone, “What was that--” his eyes met yours, “Hey…” you had a deer-in-headlights stare and were shaking. Nero’s voice slowly became softer with each word, “Hey, everything’s alright,” he got back onto the mattress and slowly eased his way towards you, “You’re okay.”

You shook your head and tried to move further into the couch as Nero reached his hand outward. His voice was barely over a whisper, “Easy, easy-- I’m not going to hurt you,” his hand gently brushed your leg.

You kicked at his hand and reached for anything you could; anything to defend yourself. Right behind you, in the corner of the room, were shelves with random items scattered on them.

Nero noticed you grab one of those items; which happened to be a half-empty bottle of beer, and ducked as you threw it at him. Seeing him dodge your pitiful attempt at self-defense made you crawl further up on the couch. Now you were sitting on top of the arm and back. Your eyes were dilated and your heart was pounding as you watched him sit up.

“Whoa-- okay relax,” Nero put his hands up with the palms facing you, “I’m not attacking you. You're safe. I'm not going to hurt you…”

The two of you sat in a standoff for what felt like an eternity--in reality, it was only a few minutes. The young man kept his hands where you could see them and didn’t move a muscle; only continuing to stare you in the eyes.

Tonight was the first time you’d reacted this violently to being woken up. Nero had never seen you this terrified before; no matter what hellish things you'd seen and been through. Seeing you have such an intense response made him want to comfort you; to help you.

Eventually, you spoke, voice scarcely audible, “N-Nero?"

“It’s me,” his gaze softened slightly, “You okay?”

You gave a small nod and looked away from him. Slowly you slid back down to sit on the couch, resting your body on the back cushions of the pleather couch.

Without skipping a beat, Nero moved to sit next to you. Your shoulders gently brushed together as you sat side-by-side. Another few minutes passed without either of you speaking.

“I think I’m gonna stay down here tonight,” Nero looked over at you, “I don’t know what is scaring you so much, but,” he looked down at your hand, wanting nothing more than to hold it, “I want to help.”

“You don’t have to, Nero; I’ll be okay,” you mumbled.

“That’s what you said earlier, only for you to start screaming barely an hour after I left you,” Nero cautiously reached for your hand.

Seeing his hand near your forearm, you flinched and yanked your arms away. With raised shoulders, you turned away from him, “No--!" your voice was laced with a tremendous amount of fear.

He gently grabbed your shoulder, “What’s going on… Did I do something--”

Your body lurched forwards, pulling you away from his touch. Quietly you whimpered, “Don't...”

“What-” Nero scrunched his face with his lips parted slightly in thought. He slid to sit in front of you, resting on his knees. The concerned hunter grabbed both your hands tightly, not allowing you to pull them away, “What is going on?”

“Please,” tears pricked at the corners of your eyes as you tried to pull away. Pulling your shoulders and legs as close to you as you could, you let out a half-choked sob, “I'm sorry.”

“This have to do with your nightmares?” Nero saw you flick your eyes up to his for a moment before you looked away again, “It does, doesn’t it?”

Your body shook as you began to cry and finally pulled your hands from his, saying nothing.

Nero leaned his weight back and rested his hips on his heels. A heavy sigh left his lips as he thought about what to do; about what this meant. That’s when it clicked.

“Your nightmares are about me; aren’t they?”

The glance upwards from you cut through Nero's soul; you were telling him yes without even needing to speak.

His expression fell as he realized the gravity of the situation. How could he comfort you if he was the reason for this in the first place?

“Could-” Nero’s voice was quiet, “you tell me about it?” he gently reached out and touched your leg with his fingers, “Please?”

You looked up at him, tears still sliding down your cheeks. No response.

Nero sighed and moved to sit back next to you, “I want to help you, but I can’t if you don’t tell me how.”

A few minutes passed of you sitting with him. The only sound in the DMC was the gentle piano music from your cellphone. If he wasn’t able to hear your heart, he would’ve figured you were telling him to fuck off; however, Nero noticed your heart rate was slowly returning to normal. Your legs had gradually relaxed in a crisscrossed position and your hands were in your lap; opening yourself back up to the world.

With a voice low and rough, you finally spoke up, “You sure you want to know?”

Nero looked over at you and met your bloodshot eyes with a nod, “Yeah, I’m sure."

“It’s always the same and,” you looked down at your hands as if they were suddenly the most interesting thing in the world, “it’s about you and me…”

Nero’s brow was furrowed sadly as he watched you struggle with your words.

“We are doing a normal job, but you disappear. I can’t find you for a long time and then I…” you swallowed hard, fighting back another wave of tears, “I get attacked by… you .”

Your partner turned to face you fully, a pit slowly forming in his stomach.

“You disarm me and then…” you looked at him for a brief moment, his eyes were filled with a sad expression as he hung on every word you said. You turned back to stare at your hands, “then I approach you, but something’s… something’s wrong.”

You shook your head, “You have your Devil Bringer still and don’t acknowledge me. Once I get up to you,” a shiver ran through your body, “you try to choke me out, but I stab you and…” your pulse and words quickened, “and we fight. I get Queen and hit you with it. But… but you…”

Nero noticed your sudden and alarming increase of fear, “Hey, you don’t have to continue if--”

“No,” you looked at him tears once more in your eyes, “I can do this.”

He nodded, allowing you to continue.

You cleared your throat and looked away from him, “You trigger and I can’t stop you. I tried to use Queen but you stopped it and…” you let out a shuddering breath, “you broke both my arms.”

Nero’s posture stiffened, “ What? ”

“I try to fight, but you toss me around and dislocate one of my shoulders.”

The young man’s face continued to become more distressed as he heard you continue.

“It gets blurry from here… I hit a wall at some point and everything just,” you shook your head, “breaks… but you aren’t done…” you unconsciously held your middle as your voice slowly became softer, “You impale me with Red Queen and pin me up on the wall… Calling me pathetic. I usually wake up after that…"

The room fell silent. Neither of you spoke as the air slowly became thicker with dread. Nero’s mind was racing. He's never hurt you, not once. The boy's overly stubborn about sparring with you because of his fear of doing just that. He expected your nightmare to be something less violent; maybe some harsh words or fear of being abandoned (similar to ones he has had), but this… this was more than he could’ve imagined.

The two of you had known each other since you were young. You grew up together. Played together. Fought together. After Nero was hurt and lost his human arm, you were right by his side. Despite his resistance, you sparred with him and helped him learn about his Devil Bringer--even if neither of you knew what it truly was capable of. It made his gut wrench in frustration. Here you are, afraid of him. Needing his help and he doesn't even know how to.

You looked over at him. Nero’s face had hardened into a pissed-off scrunch and you spoke with a barely audible voice, “Sorry… I said too much…”

His eyes widened as your voice pulled him out of his thoughts, “Hey, don't apologize," he noticed your hand on his knee and cautiously grabbed it, fearing you'd pull away again, "It's not your fault…”

The feeling of his calloused warm palm against your icy hand was a small comfort. You leaned against his shoulder, letting out a shuddered breath, “I just don’t know why this…” your voice trailed off.

In Nero’s mind, he was replaying the past few months and was trying his best to pinpoint why this would’ve started. That’s when he realized what unintentionally started this avalanche of twisted dreams.

A few months ago the two of you had been on a job together; which was nothing special, just destroying a demon nest. However, you were pretty concussed and having a hard time staying upright; relying on Nero to help you move forward. The two of you got into a bit of a tough spot when making your way back to the van. A group of Scudo and Proto Angelos cut off your exit. Knowing you weren’t able to fight, Nero leaned you against a nearby wall and told you to stay there.

The young hunter was doing fairly well against the small pack. Right up until he heard you shoot Revenant. Immediately he pivoted around and saw that you were being attacked by a stray Scudo Angelo. In an attempt to defend yourself, you put your forearms up as the Scudo Angelo bashed you with its shield. This landed you on your ass; which was bad since you were unable to properly stand back up unassisted. He saw that both your arms already had started to bruise and you were looking around, more confused than before.

Nero lost his cool and triggered. With a quick lunge, he tackled the Scudo Angelo to the ground. His hands were wrapped around the demon’s neck and he doesn’t remember much; although he knows he said some very aggressive words and strangled it to death.

After the demon was dead, he moved back to the few that remained and wiped the floor with them. This had been the first time you saw his triggered form and, from the look you gave him, it wasn’t a welcomed experience. He hasn’t used it around you since.

“Can I ask you something?” Nero leaned his cheek against the top of your head.

“Sure,” you had laced your fingers with his and were rubbing your thumb against his hand.

“Are you afraid of my trigger?” his tone was almost sad

You waited a moment before responding, “What makes you say that?”

“This all started shortly after you banged your head really hard on that one mission… which you also saw my triggered form for the first time,” Nero sat with bated breath.

Giving it some thought, certain things about the nightmare started to make sense. All you could do was nod in affirmation; knowing that it was a stupid thing to be afraid of.

The two of you sat for another few minutes as Nero mulled over ideas in his head on how to make this better. Before he moved to get up from the couch.

Once fully standing, he looked over to you, “I’ll be right back,” and disappeared up the stairs.

You moved to sit on the edge of the couch, letting your feet hit the floor. The music on your phone had begun to annoy you, so you grabbed it and turned it off. “Great…” you mumbled, reading the time on your phone: 2:33 AM. Nero and you were supposed to be leaving for a job in only a few hours.

“Here,” you turned to see that Nero had come back downstairs.

“...what..?” you were confused, to say the least. In his outstretched hand was Blue Rose.

“Well,” he smiled, “I think I know how to solve your nightmares.”

“By what? Shooting you?” you asked sarcastically with a raised brow, grabbing the revolver.

“Kinda, but only if you feel you have to,” Nero moved to the other side of the room.

“Nero--” you shook your head, “I am not shooting you.”

“If it's any better, they aren’t real bullets,” he shrugged, “figured holy water capsules should work, right?”

“You still have some? Damn,” you opened the chamber and, sure as shit, there were slugs filled with holy water, “Thought that you used them all?”

Your partner laughed, “Yeah, I have them in case of emergency.”

“Which this is?”

Nero answered without skipping a beat, “Yes it is.”

“Alright,” you stood up and faced him, “What’s the plan?”

“Sit back down, yeah?” with pursed lips you sat back down on the edge of the bed, “I figured …” Nero hesitated, “that if you see me triggered,” he sighed and ran his hand through his hair, “then maybe the nightmares will stop.”

“That’s a horrible idea, Nero,” you pinched the bridge of your nose, “These bullets may as well be real then; you’ve seen what they do to demons.”

“I’ll be fine, plus,” he smiled warmly at you, “I don’t think you’ll need them.”

You shook your head, “I think that this is a bad idea… but,” you flicked Blue Rose closed, “if you’re fine with it then I trust you.”

“Thanks, babe,” Nero winked at you making you roll your eyes and smile.

The room lit up a bright blue from Nero’s trigger. Your heart had picked up several paces and it took everything in you not to keep your finger on the trigger of the revolver. The teal demon stood only a dozen or so feet from you and had his goldenrod eyes trained on you.

Involuntarily, you had begun to tremble as your body replayed the several weeks’ worth of painful sleep. The two of you had locked into a stare. Upon doing so, you noticed that Nero’s eyes had begun to dilate slightly--reminding you of a cat. Your eyes broke from his as you began to scan over his body.

It was strange how Nero looks so different but still looks like himself. As much as you loved his short hair, it was nostalgic seeing him with longer locks--even if it was quadruple the length. Your lips twitched upward a bit as you thought about how you purposely learned to braid hair just to braid Nero’s. You found yourself wondering if it is as soft as his hair was before.

However, the moment Nero tried to move towards you, everything in you shot right back into a panicked state. He noticed and stopped his slow increments. A part of Nero wanted to speak and tell you that it was alright but figured that hearing his distorted voice would only make things worse.

After a moment of calming yourself down, you trailed your eyes down his arms and winced slightly at the sight. Although you already knew his Devil Bringer was essentially his triggered form's arm; you never got to look at the scaled skin and compare the two. Once more you found yourself thinking about your time on Fortuna together.

The first time you were alone with Nero after he lost his “real” arm, you spent nearly an hour just tracing the bright blue lines. It was soothing to you and Nero never understood why. He hated his arm for quite some time and was always apprehensive about you touching it. However, he never pushed you away or moved to stop you--maybe he liked it more than he cared to admit. You smiled and laughed to yourself at the thought.

While you were lost in good memories, Nero slowly moved forward and now stood only a few feet from you (you both were basically playing the world’s most tense game of “red light, green light”). The bright light thrown from his body snapped you out of your head and you tensed. You kept reminding yourself that it was Nero standing there and that he was still himself.

He stood still as you continued to look at him. With a slow panning sight, you wandered the faint lines of his pecs and watched his chest rise and fall. You wished that you were running your hands over him rather than your eyes.

Then you slid your gaze down his abs to the glowing highlights there, tracing them with your eyes. You remembered how soft the lines on his Devil Bringer were and wondered if the other lines were the same.

Your eyes then wandered to his hips and you froze. It hadn't hit you till now that Nero was practically naked right now. Butterflies formed in your stomach at the thought. Of course, you had seen his ass on accident more than once--even whistling at him a few times just to mess with him--but you'd never seen his front bits. A distant part of you wondered if Nero actually had a functional dick when in this form and if it was different than a human’s.

The teal devil had been watching you stare at his codpiece for some time, "Checking out the merchandise, huh?" Nero couldn't help but revel in calling you out, "Care for a sample~" even with the distortion, your heart skipped a beat at Nero saying such a thing.

Your face lit up bright red with embarrassment as you quickly sputtered in response, "I wasn't-- I just--"

“Uh-huh sure,” he laughed, “You know if that’s what I gotta do to help you--”

“Oh-- shut the fuck up--” you laughed and tried your best to play it cool.

Nero cocked his head to the side, “Still think I’m scary?”

You rolled your eyes, “You’re always scary, Nero.”

“Oh? Well then…” he smiled goofily and pounced onto you; not thinking about how this is the worst thing he could do right now.

In a panic, you raised your hands and defended yourself; completely forgetting about Blue Rose (thankfully). Along with your hands, you swung your feet upwards to push him. You grabbed his face with one hand and used the other to shove his chest. In the end, however, Nero was much heavier and larger in his triggered form so you couldn’t move him off of you.

Nero realized his mistake and stood upright, “Shit-- I didn’t-- I’m sorry,” as he stared his worry only grew worse.

Your face was pale and you had frozen in place; holding your hand upwards still. With a hard swallow and deep breath, you tried to relax, “Nero, what the fuck..?”

“I--” his goldenrod eyes were trained on your held-up palm as he slowly re-approached you.

“Nero?” you were confused and had a bad feeling start to grow once more in your gut; however, this was quickly replaced.

The teal demon kneeled in front of you and reached out to your outstretched hand. He held it in his hand with your palm up, “You're bleeding…”

You looked down and saw what he meant. On both edges of your hand were matching slices. At first, you were confused about what happened then you looked at Nero. The two spikes on his face had blood streaks along them: you must've nicked yourself when grabbing him.

You sighed, “Damn it… I’ll go take care--”

“Wait,” Nero placed his other hand on your leg, keeping you seated, “I’ve got it.”

“What--”

It was too late for you to question him; he had already moved to clean it. His tongue was hot as it ran along the sides of your hand. You wanted to be afraid of him, however, a pleasant chill ran up your spine. Seeing Nero kneeling before you and tending to your wounds; you couldn’t help but wander to tasteful thoughts.

“N-Nero,” you stammered, “st-stop.”

He flicked his eyes to yours and, without breaking eye contact, he took a long lick against your hand. You unconsciously bit your lip at the sight, making him smirk. It was strange seeing Nero with a split tongue; not to mention how well he seemed to be able to use it. You found a distant part of yourself thinking about what else he could do with his longer demonic tongue. After some time, the bleeding stopped.

The teal devil kissed both gashes and looked up at you with a warm smile, “There, all better.”

A breathy laugh is all you could muster in response.

“Regretting not accepting my offer, huh?” he stood up and had a raised brow.

“Hah,” despite your confident tone, your face was bright red with embarrassment, “You wish.”

He eyed you up and down, deciding his next move. Although his mouth was closed, you could see him playing with his tongue in thought. Combine that with his glazed-over stare, you squirmed at your perverse thoughts.

Nero’s eyes met yours as he leaned forwards, connecting his lips to your forehead, “It’s late, you should get some rest,” he stood back up and watched you begin to pout.

“I thought you said you’d stay with me?” you gave him the best puppy dog eyes that you could.

He opened his mouth slightly as if he were going to say something, but quickly closed them with a shake of his head. Without answering you, Nero moved closer. His hands sat on your hips as he picked you up.

A surprised squeak left your lips as you wrapped yourself around him--or at least the best you could. You noticed how warm he was and found that your eyes had begun to blink slower and slower. Nero carried you up to his room and gently laid you on his mattress.

Although you were laying back, you saw a bright blue flash of light come from your partner and moved to one side; allowing him to lay beside you. However, he didn’t join you.

“Where are you going?” you leaned up on your elbows and saw him on his phone.

“Hm?” he looked over at you, “Oh-- I was just telling Nico that we aren’t going to that job--at least not till later,” he jumped onto the mattress beside you, bouncing you a little.

With a bright smile, you chuckled at the ‘childish’ action of the young hunter, “You sure that--” you turned on your side to look at him and were met with him staring at you. A blush began to creep across your face once more as you stared back.

Nero and you have known each other for a long time, but you’d never gotten this close to his face; at least not for very long. Your lips parted slightly as you counted the plethora of colors within his irises. Those said sea-green eyes were flipping between your eyes and lips; waiting for a sign of acceptance or denial.

You pursed your lips as you noticed it, heart skipping a beat. A breath hitched in your throat as you copied his flickering sight. Nero moved closer to you, putting himself as close to you without touching you as he could. Without thinking, you moved closer and closed the gap between your bodies. He put one of his hands on your side, ghosting his fingers down it.

A sly smile adorned Nero’s face as he heard your trembling breath at his touch. It wasn't clear who moved in first, but the next thing you knew is that Nero’s lips were intertwined with yours. The kiss was slow and steady, kind and loving, sweet and innocent, completely pure. It didn’t last too long before you both broke it off, however, your faces stayed close together.

With a voice as soft as silk, Nero spoke, “You know,” he smiled and nuzzled his nose against yours, “I really wanted this.”

You sighed contently, “Me too.”

The two of you reconnected lips. The young man pushed his lips harder into yours and moved his hand from your side to your face, cupping it. Admittedly, Nero wasn’t the best at kissing but he was trying. It made you smile as you both continued to give each other gentle pecks. You took your hand and knead his side.

Nero whispered in between kisses, “God,” his voice gave you goosebumps, “I love you,” he moved his hand down your body and grasped your hips.

He moved his kisses down your jawline, “I love you, too,” you felt his teeth gently graze your neck, “Nero..!”

A strangled moan left your lips as he bit down on your neck. Once he felt it was dark enough, he placed a gentle elongated kiss on it and whispered; quietly enough that you barely heard him, “mine...”

Before you could respond, he shoved you over and pinned you beneath him. You cocked your head slightly, “Am I now?”

He stared at you for a moment and smiled sheepishly, “I didn’t think you heard that…”

“It’s nice, you know?” you placed a hand on his arm, “To know that…” you laughed slightly, “that you want me that badly, Nero.”

The teal devil laid on top of you with his head on your chest, “More than I can explain.”

You ran your fingers through his hair and noticed something odd, “Nero?”

“Hm?” he rubbed his head against you.

“This is going to sound stupid but are-- are you purring? ” you felt overwhelmingly stupid asking him something like that; there’s no way that--

“Mhm,” the sound got louder and his voice got quieter with every word, “It’s cause I’m happy…”

“Oh--” you ran your hand down the side of his face, “It’s nice.”

“Yeah?” he looked up at you without moving his head from its spot, “It’s only for you, babe.”

However, you didn’t respond. Nero looked up fully at you and noticed you were already fast asleep. A large smile decorated his face as he set his head back down. Resting easy, knowing that whatever frightening devils you might face that he would be right there to protect you

===

I don't know why, but I really wanted some Nero fluff ¯\_(ツ)_/¯ 🧸💞🧸 What is currently in the works: Valentine's Devil: Dante x Male Reader (hopefully will be done by 2/14/23) Phantoms of the Past: Vergil x Reader What do you Call Me?: Vergil x Male Reader Tainted Purity: Vergil x Reader Stubborn and Old: Vergil x Reader … Yes I know that there are a lot of Vergil stories… lmao 🧸💞🧸 Also, I have to ask: do y'all like fluff or smut more? I don't know what y'all would rather want; I personally don't mind either way.

Want to see more like this? Want to read my work quicker and several stories that are not on Tumblr? Check this out on my AO3 (Linked here)

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mmonogatari · 4 months ago

Text

7 minutes in heaven

── ryan ross x fem!reader

warnings: alcohol use, vulgar words (very few tbh) and slightly suggestive themes. the characters are 18+

word count: 3.4k

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

Ryan knew full well you were an introvert and not too interested in partying, yet he insisted on dragging you to Brendon’s house, which was currently way too crowded in your opinion.

You thought about how you’d rather be at home bingeing crappy movies or just relaxing by yourself, sinking in the myriad of pillows that adorned your bed, when your eyes started wandering around the room. Maybe you were looking for an excuse to leave, or just maybe you were looking for the reason you were at this God forsaken party to begin with.

It’s not like you were mad Ryan dragged you here, what made you kind of annoyed was the fact that he was seemingly gone, while you’d hoped he would stay by your side. Instead you found yourself alone, looking for some peace and quiet in the kitchen, far away from the crowd. Yes, you were on your own, but this was somewhat more bearable than awkwardly standing against a wall amidst waves of dancing bodies, trying to push down the knot in your throat that formed as soon as you stepped in. You hadn’t even noticed Ryan disappearing, you just suddenly found yourself feeling colder, your limbs going frigid, looking around for your friend: it almost felt like your body felt the lack of his warm presence and signalled it to you through the shivers dancing up and down your spine.

Once you realised you were unable to locate him, you tried to navigate the crammed hallways towards a glimmer of quietness, shushing the gloominess muddling your thoughts.

You lowered your head, staring at the red cup in your hand, half full with a mixture of vodka and some kind of energy drink. Why were you thinking such stupid things all of a sudden? You’d known Ryan for years now, you had many classes together in high school and now that finals were done, ending your senior year, you were a bit worried you guys would just… drift apart. Maybe that’s why you hoped he would stay with you at this party, maybe that’s why you accepted to come to begin with. Or maybe it was just the alcohol talking. Yeah, that was definitely the reason.

You let out a soft – and perhaps slightly self deprecating – chuckle: it wasn’t the first time those thoughts came to your mind, but every time you deemed them too silly to pay them any mind. You couldn’t bring yourself to accept the fact that you would miss Ryan if you parted ways. You couldn't even begin to process the butterflies you felt in your stomach whenever his pretty face popped up in your head. The oh so perfect, poetic and dazzling Ryan Ross was definitely too out of your league. What use was it to try to make sense of it all, when you were so sure of the fact that these feelings were not reciprocated?

“What’s got you laughing?” a shadow loomed over you. You didn’t even hear the footsteps coming towards you, partly because they were hidden by the loud music that was making the walls vibrate, and also because you were so deep in thought that you drowned out every other stimulus.

You looked up, “Oh wow, I thought you had abandoned me and escaped or something,” you flashed Ryan a small smile. His cheeks were slightly red and flushed, probably because of the alcohol, seeing as he also held a red plastic cup just like yours, except his was empty.

“If you’re looking for something to drink, it should be in that cabinet,” you pointed to his left.

“Well, no, I guess I’ve had enough. Also, I wouldn’t abandon you: Brendon was just talking to some girls about our songs, you know… and he wouldn’t let me leave.”

“What a show off,” you giggled, jokingly. “What are you here for then?”

“Obviously I came looking for you.”

You felt blood rushing to your face.

“Oh yeah?”

“Mhm. We were thinking of playing some games or something,” Ryan immediately noticed your face going blank, “Listen, I know you’re not the biggest fan of parties and stuff, but I’d like if you tagged along, to be honest I’d like it better with you there…” he scratched the nape of his neck, was he… embarrassed?

That was so unlike the Ryan you knew, always somewhat cocky and annoying, hiding his kind and sweet side behind the slightly arrogant facade. It was kind of endearing to see him flustered, and you silently thanked the alcohol for making him this cute.

“Yeah, well, I guess I can tag along… but no truth or dare, you know I have no creativity whatsoever and I wouldn’t be able to come up with questions and that would be the actual worst,” you chuckled, hoping he wouldn’t notice how nervous and anxious you were.

“Okay okay, I won’t allow them to let you make a fool of yourself like that,” he mocked you.

This wasn’t your first party, but it definitely would be the first time you played party games, as you always avoided them like the plague.

Other than the nervousness, a slight pang of jealousy caught you by surprise. What were you even jealous of? Ryan? It’s not like he liked you back. And it’s not like you liked him to begin with. The butterflies that flapped violently against the walls of your stomach were just a natural reaction, who wouldn’t feel even the littlest bit of excitement when the most gorgeous man on Earth smiled at you so coyly?

Then why did you catch yourself staring at his nape while he was leading you out of the kitchen, the curve of his shoulders clumsily hidden by his shirt, and your eyes wandered down his back, while feeling a pit of sadness piercing through your stomach?

You caught yourself praying that he wouldn’t have to kiss any other girl, and maybe, just maybe, the bottle would land on you… but it’s not like you’d ever have the guts to confess your conflicted feelings, especially not when the thought of your friendship dying down from the distance college would put between you was all that occupied your mind for days now.

He turned to face you, “Are you coming or what?” he smiled.

You tried to regain some composure and nodded.

The whole house was packed with teens dancing to the loud music playing through the speakers. Ryan waited till you caught up with him and then let you walk ahead of him.

“I don’t want to bear the guilt of losing you in the crowd,” he snickered.

You walked past him and felt his hand on the small of your back. It was warm and comforting, you relished in the feeling, trying to quiet down your heartbeat. You couldn’t even tell if it was the nervousness of the imminent game or the warmth radiating from his hand making your heart skip one too many beats.

He led you all the way to Brendon’s bedroom, where a few other people were waiting.

“Here they are! Come sit here guys,” Brendon exclaimed cheerfully. “Allow me to explain what we’re gonna play.”

Brendon’s theatrical attitude made you chuckle, seemingly calming your furious heartbeat with the distraction he provided.

“So you all know 7 minutes in heaven right?” He glanced at you and you nodded in response. While you weren’t as close with Brendon as you were with Ryan, you guys did hang out more than a couple times and he knew you were kind of a shut-in hermit. Being a homebody didn’t mean you lived under a rock.

He continued, “Well that’s what we’re playing, but with a twist,” Brendon’s smile grew, you could catch a glimpse of benevolent malice hiding behind his pearly whites.

Some girls squealed excitedly, everyone wanted to know more.

“Okay, quiet down everybody,” Brendon shushed, gesturing with his hands.

“Hurry up Brendon,” Spencer laughed.

“So, to be honest I always thought 7 minutes in heaven was pretty boring. I mean you get to spend seven minutes stuck in a closet, isn’t it quite obvious you’re gonna fuck?” he started explaining. “So I’ve devised this variant. Basically we’re gonna split the guys from the girls and each group gets a room.”

People started giggling gleefully, thinking this was gonna get interesting.

“Each group gets to pick one person, like I don’t know, by spinning the bottle or something, and that’s the lucky one that gets to go in the closet. Blindfolded obviously. Cause the objective is guessing who the other person is, but no talking allowed. And no cum stains on my clothes cause we’re gonna use my closet, and I swear I’m gonna commit murder if any of y’all get them stained,” he shot daggers at the boys, who all laughed.

Ryan glanced at you as if to ask if you were okay, you gave a slight nod and a small smile. You didn’t want to ruin everyone’s night and be a bummer. Also it would be unlikely you’d get picked anyway, seeing as there were at least six or seven other girls.

“Oh also,” Brendon chimed again. “We’re going for multiple rounds!” Everyone cheered.

“Come on now, let’s get to our rooms,” Brendon ushered the girls out, pointing to the door opposite to his bedroom.

You sat down with the others, taking a second to look at them. You kind of knew some of them, from school, but not really enough to call them friends. Barely acquaintances even.

“Okay I guess spin the bottle would be the easiest way, right?”

Everyone nodded in agreement.

You gulped nervously, you genuinely didn’t know if you wanted to be picked to get this over with or not.

One of the girls placed an empty soda bottle down in the middle of the circle you all made on the floor, and started spinning it.

When it landed on a pretty blonde, you couldn’t help but let out a sigh of relief. The pang of jealousy stabbed through your chest again though, and you found yourself hoping that Ryan wasn’t the one picked.

As you all got up and covered the girl’s eyes with the tie Brendon gave you as a makeshift blindfold, you started making your way out of the bedroom, while the chosen girl was being guided by her friend.

“Keep quiet or you’ll ruin the surprise!” you overheard one of the girls say, while giggling.

You opened the door to find the boys all ready with their chosen candidate.

You held back your sigh of relief when you noticed it was Spencer the one who was blindfolded.

Everyone stayed quiet as Brendon opened the closet and let Spencer and the girl inside. He then grabbed a timer, “Time starts… now!”

He hurried everyone to leave the bedroom.

Once you’re all out he laughed, “I don’t wanna hear them making out to be honest.” He flopped on the bed in the spare bedroom where you previously were with the girls. “Hasn’t Spencer been eyeing that girl up and down like, all night long?”

“Yeah,” Ryan replies, his tone somewhat sheepish.

You felt warmth rush to your cheeks and ears, your breath hitched after noticing how close his voice sounded. Your head felt dizzy and you couldn’t bring yourself to turn and look at him and face his gaze, that you felt burning through your skin.

You sank lower into the mattress, seeking comfort in the lavender coloured sheets.

Perhaps Ryan caught your nervousness, or maybe he was also feeling awkward — even though you struggled to picture that — but he didn’t say a word for a couple of minutes.

When you finally lifted your head to look at him, he gave you a small smile, his eyes hiding his flustered demeanour pretty well.

“How do you think they’re doing in there?” he breathed out.

Why was your heart even thumping now? You felt like your ribs were about to crack.

“Oh, uh… I guess they’re having fun,” you spoke softly.

As the minutes went by you started making small talk and feeling a bit more comfortable. After all it was the alcohol’s fault you were feeling so lightheaded and your heart felt like it was running a marathon. Yes, it was surely that. Just hold on a bit more and you can leave, you kept telling yourself.

The ringing of the timer shook you out of your dizzy bliss, your heart giving you the fatal blow when it seemed about to jump out of your chest as Ryan’s shoulder brushed against yours when he rose from the bed.

“Time’s up, let’s go free the lovebirds,” Brendon laughed in a slightly sarcastic tone.

When he opened the closet door, the two of them were all over each other, hair ruffled and breathing laboured.

“Come on, get out. You can continue somewhere else,” Brendon winked, making everyone laugh. “Time for the second round.”

This time you were feeling a little more relaxed, the alcohol was starting to wear off and you were getting more comfortable. The game didn’t seem as scary anymore.

Until the bottle landed on you.

You knew this would happen eventually, yet you couldn’t help your head jerking up, trying to hide the panicked look you were sure was plastered on your face.

Thank God, or maybe unfortunately, the girls didn’t seem to notice and they hurried you on your feet, eager to blindfold you and start the round.

Shivers travelled up and down your spine as one of the girls held your hand to guide you to the room.

It was so eerily quiet, you couldn’t tell at all who was the guy who got picked.

You felt the girl’s hand on your shoulders as she pushed you into the cramped closet. You tucked your feet under your bottom, trying to find a comfortable enough position.

The air grew warmer as the other person joined in.

“Okay guys, time’s starting.” You hear a muffled voice, but you couldn’t distinguish who it was because of the layers of fabric and wood blocking out the sounds, “let’s go grab some more booze while we wait”.

Your view was completely black, your mouth agape, looking for some more air to fill up your lungs. You were almost shaking, trying to dry off your sweaty palms on your jeans.

You felt rustling coming from in front of you, he was probably trying to adjust himself in the tiniest amount of space so as to not disturb you. He couldn’t help but brush his legs against yours though, which let a small gasp escape from your lips.

“Uhm…” you started, before remembering the no-talking rule. You sighed in frustration. How could you even begin to guess who was the boy stuck in there with you if you couldn’t even talk to him?

Suddenly you felt puffs of warm hair hitting your face, signalling that he was getting closer. You instinctively raised your hands in front of you, as if you were trying to protect yourself or put some distance between the two of you, even though it would have been in vain, seeing as your back was against the wall.

What you didn’t expect was your hands hitting the soft cotton covering his chest. You froze, unable to react and remove them, mentally cursing the moment you decided to participate in this stupid game.

The fact that the boy took this as a sign that he could reciprocate your touch made everything even worse, your head started spinning faster than a carousel as his hands laid gently on your knees.

You could feel his warmth through the denim fabric, your heart started skipping beat after beat. This was driving you insane, it felt as if the time was as frozen as you were in that instant.

He hummed quietly as his hands made their way up your thighs, hesitating.

He stopped midway, seemingly unsure whether he had the green light or not.

For some reason you felt disappointment rush through your veins when he stopped, replacing the nervousness. As he was about to lift his hands, his fingertips barely grazing your legs, you moved your own hands higher up his chest, your feather touch barely caressing his collarbones under the lightweight shirt.

Thankfully he got the message. His hands latched back to your thighs, but didn’t stay there for long, he immediately moved them up to grab your hips.

You felt goosebumps when his thin fingers slid under the hem of your shirt and collided with the skin of your lower back.

It felt somehow familiar.

His fingers hooked in your Venus’ dimples and your ears felt devilishly hot when they caught the sigh he let escape.

The sound reverberated in your head, kicking out all other thoughts and that small spark of reason you were trying to keep alight.

You grabbed the collar of his shirt, trying to focus on identifying the man who was making you feel all hot and bothered.

As your fingers travelled to the nape of his neck and tangled in his soft hair, his hands were occupied with exploring your back and waist, stopping to lay palms flat against your side, thumbs lightly pressing your stomach.

His face was inching closer and you could smell his cologne, faint but distinguishable.

The scent of hairspray, the softness of his shirt, it all made sense now.

“Ryan?” a whisper struggled to leave your lips.

“Y-yeah…” his breathing fanned against your earlobe. “You have no idea how happy I am that it’s you,” he sighed as his lips brushed against your skin.

A rush of hot blood made your veins pulse, you gulped down the awkwardness.

“I’m happy too…” your hands moved to his back, pulling him closer in a much needed hug.

When you felt his nose bump into yours, all sense and reason escaped you, as an eagerness you didn’t know you could have made its way through your dizzy head.

“Is it okay if…” his lips caressed your cheek as he whispered.

“Yes, please, Ryan, kiss–”, his lips didn’t let you finish the sentence as they immediately captured yours in a loving and chaste kiss.

“I’ve waited for this for so long,” he whined desperately in between sloppy kisses, stopping only to take your blindfolds off.

You hummed against his mouth, hoping he’d understand that you too had been dying to kiss him for God knows how long.

His hands started exploring your back, clashing against the clip of your bra and the hem of your jeans, before settling on the sides of your face. His thumbs traced small circles on your cheeks.

“I really really like you, (Y/N),” he panted.

“I like you too,” you replied before capturing his lips once again.

The make out session left you breathless as you laid your head on his shoulder, while he engulfed you in his tight embrace. It felt like he’d never let you go and you were totally fine with that.

“I think I would have actually cried if you ended up with some other jerk,” he chuckled.

“Were you jealous?” you teased, knowing full well you were thinking the same exact thing.

“Shut up. Wouldn’t you also be jealous if the girl you liked for years ended up making out with someone else?”

“Touché, Ross,” you chirped gleefully. He liked you. The prettiest and kindest and smartest person you’d ever laid eyes upon reciprocated your feelings. It felt unreal.

“Don’t you think time should be up by now?” he tilted his head.

“Oh fuck, you’re right. Did they forget us or what?”

“Not that I’m complaining if we accidentally end up staying here all night,” he teased sarcastically, “who knows what might happen.”

“Shut up!” you laughed.

The closet fell silent. You really should be looking for a way to get out.

Thankfully it seemed that Brendon read your minds, cause you suddenly felt frantic footsteps approaching hurriedly and a string of mumbled ‘fuck fuck fuck’s.

“We can continue this later, right?” Ryan whispered in your ear, as he moved just a couple inches back. You could literally feel the cocky smirk adorning his beautiful face.

You turned to look at him right as the closet door opened, “Fuck guys I’m so sorry, we went to grab some more vodka bottles and didn’t hear the timer go off I’m so sorry fuck,” Brendon’s hand was outstretched, offering you help to get out.

Thank God he didn’t seem to notice your tousled hair and laboured breath.

Your eyes went immediately looking for Ryan’s, his gaze making you melt.

“Don’t worry, we had fun,” he winked at you.

You rolled your eyes. He was back to his annoying usual self, which you couldn’t help but love all the same as the desperate whiny mess he was just a couple minutes ago.

୧‿̩͙ ˖︵ ꕀ⠀ ♱⠀ ꕀ ︵˖ ‿̩͙୨

i highly hope there were no mistakes as english isn't my native language and this was my very first time writing a fanfic :)

#this was reposted from my ao3 #ryan ross #ryan ross x reader #ryan ross patd #pre split panic #panic! at the disco #panic at the disco #panic ryan #patd #p!atd #ryro #the young veins #ao3 fanfic #ao3 #ao3 writer

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