#the devil judge spoilers

[rainbow-recipe]

so i dont cry when su hyeon dies, but when yo han asks if he should make ramyeon for ga on i start tearing up?

[ashes-onthewind]

HOUGH REAL

Kang Yo Han after meeting the spit image of his deceased brother

[usernamesoft]

okay but what if armand just took louis out on a silly little art date but then louis got super philosopcal and was like ‘well who are you then?’ and armand had to change his main date activity to trauma dump

[choking-on-ice]

no thoughts, just sexy pre-devil Wyll

this man has me by the throat I stg

[briwates]

Kept making jokes abt kang yohan being lactose intolerant well guess who got the bubble guts now ?

[solivcgant]

⚠ I need some slides on Yuji and/or Akane

@getsusekaii sent ⚠ for a bad presentation slide about their muse

[cloudless-nights]

Now that I know what happened the day of the fire, everything yohan does is making sense

[gaywatch]

- about WCS + Ga On -

Yes, I see some of the lyrics in relation to Yo Han and some of them in relation to Ga On’ professor.

Oh shit, the professor angle is totally there in a lot of places, my mind is further blown.

(Is now when I tell you that Mastermind fits so flawlessly for Yohan/Gaon that I actually have fanvid/edit plans because ahhhhhh)

[grave-the-demon]

oh yeah i just started watching the devil judge. its pretty good. i dont see how Jung Sunah is so important though, shes only-

EPISODE FOUR

😶😵‍💫😵‍💫

MY GODDDDDDD IM SO GAYYYYYYY shes sooooo hmmm ya ya ya ya ya ya ya

yall better get ready for the gifsets of that scene i will unleash (THERE BETTER BE GIFSETS) once ive finished this series like DAMN

[deepamuthukrishnan]

We Listen and We Don’t Judge

Pairings: Nico Hischier x OC

Warnings: Spoilers for That Sik Luv, King of Wrath, King of Sloth, God of Wrath, and God of Malice but just a lot of fluff.

Summary: You are a viral booktoker and after seeing the we listen and we don’t judge trend with couples, you put your own twist.

—————————————————————————

It’s not a joke that you are mildly addicted to TikTok. After all, by day, you worked for the New Jersey Devils as a social media girl but by night, you are one of the most viral booktokers on BookTok.

Currently you were doomscrolling on TikTok, waiting for your boyfriend, Nico, to come home from hanging at Jack’s and Luke’s place.

You suddenly come across a video of a couple doing the We Listen and Don’t Judge trend which you weren’t that completely unaware of because you had seen it on your for you page for the last few days.

“We listen and we don’t judge.” The couple both said before the woman started to talk.

“I sometimes don’t wash our fruit because I feel lazy.” She said, trying not to laugh.

The man burst into laughter. “Jesus we’re gonna get worms! We probably have worms in our bodies!”

“Well we listen and we don’t judge!” She clapped back and you began to laugh.

After about three minutes of watching that video, an idea popped in your head. You walked to your massive bookshelf that Nico assembled for you for Christmas last year and got out your copies of That Sik Luv, King of Wrath, King of Sloth, God of Wrath, and God of Malice from your shelf before walking back to the living room.

As soon as you walked back, you saw Nico walk in, taking his shoes and beanie off.

“Hey Schatz.” He said, wrapping his arms around your waist, giving you a kiss.

You pulled away to greet him back, Nico pouting a bit. “Hey baby. How was the hangout at Jack’s and Luke’s place.”

“Same old same old.” He said, his Swiss German accent being prominent.

You chuckled. “Why don’t you get changed.”

“Okay.” He gives you a quick kiss before walking into your shared bedroom before walking out in grey sweatpants and a devils hoodie.

“Hey Nico?”

“Yeah?” He asks.

“You love me right?”

“Are you breaking up with me?” He asked and you look at him gobsmacked.

“Okay no. I’m not breaking up with you-“

“Thank god.”

“I was literally gonna ask if you wanted to be in a TikTok baby.” You say.

Nico has been your biggest supporter and even though it was a mutual decision to keep your love life private, along with the occasional post of each other on your birthdays, anniversaries, and reposting posts of you guys in them.

“Oh okay. What TikTok?”

He plops down on the floor and looks at the pile of books on the coffee table. “What TikTok is it?”

You get your phone and open TikTok, going to make a new video, propping your phone on the little fake bonsai tree.

“Okay so we’re gonna do the we listen and we don’t judge trend except it’s with the books I read last month.” You say to your phone before stopping the recording.

“I say we listen and we don’t judge and tell you something about the book.” I explain.

“So I sit and look pretty?”

“Pretty much.” I answer.

I get out the first book, That Sik Luv, from the pile before clicking the button to record.

“We listen and we don’t judge,” you say, trying so hard not to laugh. “In this book, she’s in a religious cult, she doesn’t know that she is. Either way, the church that runs their town are trying to kill her so they hire this mercenary dude who becomes obsessed with her and stalks her and shows just how corrupt the church is. So one day, when she has to go to confession and he’s waiting for her in where she’s supposed to sit and they get their freak on when she’s giving her confession to the deacon and when he pulls back to curtain to pew pew her, he acts quickly and pew pews the deacon and they continue to get their freak on in front of the deacon’s now dead body.”

Nico mulls over what you said before saying, “I would read this book Schatzi.”

“What?!” You look at him horrified. “Like you’re not playing with me are you?”

“I mean I would skip over these kinda scenes but it seems interesting.”

“Oh my lord.” You muttered before grabbing King of Wrath.

“We listen and we don’t judge,” you said, forming her thoughts. “So in this book, both the characters are in an arranged marriage situation for reasons I can’t say. Anyway, one thing leads to another and he’s,” you mime fingering to him and he raises his eyebrows, “her and calls him an asshole and he replies with ‘I’m an asshole, yet youre dripping for me.’”

“Is this what you’re reading when your jaw is dropped?” He asks.

“Well like, you signed up for this.” You say.

“I love you too much.” He said, pulling you into him.

“I love you too.” You say and you grab King of Sloth.

“We listen and we don’t judge. So for context, her ex cheated on her-“

“He’s a dead man.” Nico fumes, his Swiss German accent becoming even more prominent.

“If you’ll let me finish.” You say, trying not to laugh at his outburst but you crack a smile. “Anyway, because of that, she has trust issues and when she’s telling him, so the mmc, her trust issues, instead of reassuring her, he sits her on her desk and goes to town with his mouth on her. He then proceeds to bend her over and goes to town on her and he puts duct tape over her mouth because she’s apparently loud.”

A beat of silence passes before Nico says, “If your ex cheated on you and you said that, I’d do the same.”

You whack the book on his head. “No you won’t.” You reply, both of you laughing.

“What, I need to remind him what he missed out on.” He responds chalantly.

You roll your eyes before grabbingGod of Wrath.

“We listen and we don’t judge. So in the first chapter, she wants to kill herself because her best friend killed himself and she on the edge of the cliff and she jumps, but then the mmc grabs onto her and he said that the only way he can save her life is if she performs a certain sexual act down there.”

“Like what do you mean?”

“He’s holding on to her and he’s like oh the only way I will save you if you do this certain sexual act down there for me.”

“And she does.”

“Well yeah. If we were in this exact situation, I’d do it because I value my life.” You respond.

“Okay true.” He says.

You get out your last book, God of Wrath, trying not to laugh.

“We listen and we don’t judge. In this book, she’s walking home at night with her headphones in and these two creeps are like following her but then, the mmc, who was stalking her, bears the guys up because in his eyes, he’s the only one that allowed to stalk her.”

“Oh.” He says. “That’s kinda stupid though.”

“What is?” You ask.

“Walking alone at night with headphones in. Like does she not have any sense?”

You burst into laughter at his words. “Literally the mmc asked her the exact question and it is pretty stupid.” You look at your phone before saying, “Guys, remember to not walk alone at night with headphones in. But also let me know if yall want a part 2.”

You hit the stop button and he pulls you further into him. “You know I love you, but this is the weirdest TikTok you made me do.”

You chuckle and kiss his jaw. “I know babe.”

[kennedysbaby]

invisible string

content ꒰ 2.3k ꒱ re4r leon x female reader. fluff! reader is friends with ashley. short & sweet. no warnings really. both reader & leon are hopeless romantics. and also bookworms apparently. mentions of the women in leon's life. french people slander. spoilers for the stranger by camus. not proofread, as usual. i miss autumn dearly. author's note i watched before sunrise the other night and it made me believe in love again for a second there. def recommend if you haven't seen it !! also listened to champagne coast by blood orange on repeat while writing this hehe. reblogs & comments are always very appreciated. ꣑ৎ

"He's, like, really gorgeous," your closest friend, Ashley, sighs dreamily, walking hand-in-hand with you towards the train station. The chilly October air nips at both of your cheeks, hers flushed red. "I think you'll really like him."

Given her track record, you'll be the judge of that.

"I dunno Ash," you shrug, giving the girl a lopsided smile in a poor attempt to reassure her, "He's a blonde. Are you sure he isn't the devil reincarnate?" You deadpan with a sip from your stale coffee.

At her frown, you sigh, "...I guess he did save your life."

Ashley had been dying to introduce you to Leon, whom she barely hung out with herself; his schedule was chaotic, like a jigsaw puzzle with missing pieces. Between his personal life (or lack thereof) and missions in foreign countries, he almost never had the time. But finally, he had a day off, one he could dedicate to the President's daughter—and you.

"Trust me, Leon's a total sweetheart," she says as the two of you step onto the train, "He might not look it, but deep down, he's a big softie."

"If you say so," you mumble more to yourself than to her.

Gorgeous was an understatement. Through the glass windows of the café, you see Leon sitting in the corner near the record player, his blonde locks falling in front of his pretty face. A worn book is poised between his index finger and his thumb; Camus, how predictable.

The small bell above the door chimes softly as you both stumble inside, Ashley quickly waving with her sugary sweet smile at the sight of her little knight in shining armor. Oh, you had no chance with him if she was around. Your smile pales in comparison to hers; awkward and stiff.

Whatever, you didn't owe this stranger anything. Even if he was perfect in every way imaginable.

Leon smiles back at Ashley, then stares at you momentarily, before gesturing for the two of you to come on over. You have to fight the urge to physically cringe; the look he gave you felt so...weird. It wasn't exactly a nasty scowl, but it also wasn't a polite grin.

"Leon! How've you been?" The blonde gushes, taking a seat across from him; you follow right next to her. Before he gets the chance to reply, Ashley introduces you as well, "This is my friend I'm always talking about. She's the best girl I know."

You offer him a half-hearted smile, paired with a little shy shrug; damn, this man had you acting a fool already. To your surprise, he smiles back, albeit a little tensely, and nods, "It's nice to meet you."

"Like wise."

Ashley keeps the conversation afloat, mostly asking Leon about his missions—vaguely, of course, given their classified nature—and life in general. He'd reply and return the questions back to her, while you sat there with a constipated expression plastered onto your face, feeling completely out of place. Obviously, they weren't deliberately trying to single you out, but your attempts at trying to chime in had gone unnoticed. More like ignored.

You felt like a fucking third wheeler.

At least, until Ashley excused herself, claiming she needed to go to the bathroom "real quickly." Five minutes of awkward silence had already passed, mixed in with the occasional this coffee's really good and it's kind of cold in here. Leon looks at you, you look at him. Then out the window at the red and orange fallen leaves, and lastly, to the wall adjacent, just...admiring the vinyls on display.

Your eyes land upon his book, set haphazardly next to the ceramic mug, and then it hits you: you've read The Stranger, you can make conversation! At least, enough conversation until Ashley came back.

Breaking the unbearable silence, you say, meeting his gaze, "So...Camus."

Leon looks at the book, then at you, "What about him?" An inscrutable look etched itself onto his perfect features.

Ouch. Still, you persevere, "Have you read the book before? I wouldn't want to spoil it for you."

You take a sip of your vanilla latte, a maroonish lipstick mark left on the rim; this was much better than the sad cup of coffee you drank in the morning.

He chuckles, running a hand through his blonde locks. "Only a million times." Cheesy, but you could work with it. "I love French literature."

You shrug, feigning disinterest, "The French suck though."

But, not wanting to burst his bubble, you add, "The whole concept of absurdism really stuck with me, I have to admit. Sometimes I wish I could be as indifferent as Meursault. He just...doesn't care." You laugh, the words flowing so naturally it shocked you.

"Just drifting through life without any real purpose?" Leon adds for you with a light scoff, his gaze softening a bit. "In my dreams. I liked how the trial was more of a judgement of his character rather than his actions. It's almost as if the real crime was his nonchalance towards his mother's death."

That's the most you've heard Leon talk in the half an hour you'd known him. He looked so cute, explaining the parts of the book he enjoyed. You wanted to kiss him so bad.

You're both fully engrossed in each other and your shared taste in literature, the outside world fading into a blur. You can't even seem to notice Ashley, who finally returns with a sly look on her pretty face. She slides in right next to you, clasping her hands together above the table.

"Wow, you two seem to be really hitting it off." Oh, her disappearance was so deliberate. Her voice snaps you both out of your little trance.

All her comment earns are two awkward chuckles and averting gazes. It's like everything's falling into place, just how she wanted it to, so seamlessly. Ashley really was pretty good at this whole matchmaker thing. Hell, she could give Cupid a run for his money.

The more you got to know Leon, the more that sweetness Ashley had mentioned began to seep through his rough exterior, like the morning sun pouring in through parted curtains.

Now it was her getting sidelined.

Leon was slowly falling in love with you.

He couldn't help himself. Despite his awful luck with women in the past, he still found himself gazing longingly at you, wishing you were in his arms. After the little get-together with Ashley, you two exchanged numbers, started hanging out together without her. You called that night before bed. His heart nearly skipped a beat.

You were just a college girl who did ballet and enjoyed the same music & literature as him; you couldn't be like Ada, right? An ordinary civilian, someone who hadn't seen the things he and his old flame had. He felt some semblance of normalcy around you, something he couldn't even feel with Ashley or Claire. It was so refreshing.

Ever since Leon met you, he no longer found himself picking up random women at bars for meaningless sex. Almost as if he was remaining faithful and loyal to you, even if you weren't together.

He was smitten.

No one, not even the woman in the red dress, the President's doe-eyed daughter, or his closest friend, could steal his attention away from you. They were all very beautiful, Leon had to admit, but you were ethereal. Out of this fucking world.

When you called asking if he wanted to come over and watch a movie together, Leon felt his cheeks go hot, regardless of the biting cold December winds outside. He was walking back to his apartment after a rather unsuccessful mission; every muscle in his body ached, exhaustion creeping beneath his skin. But he couldn't leave you hanging.

"Yeah, sure." He manages to reply. "What movie?"

"Before sunrise." You say; Leon found your choice interesting. "It's one of my favorites. Have you seen it?"

"Who hasn't?" Leon chuckles. "I'll be over soon. Gotta take care of a few things first." He desperately needed a steaming hot shower after whatever the fuck his last mission was.

"Okay, great." He can almost hear the smile through your tone. "See ya."

Come two hours, and Leon's standing in your doorway, in all his blonde glory. "Hey sweetheart," he smiles softly; definitely a totally platonic, friendly, kind pet name specially for you. The cute look that'd sneak onto your face whenever he used it had Leon's chest tightening uncontrollably.

"Hi Leon." You let him walk past you.

He'd been to your apartment a few times before, but never alone; usually either with Ashley or some of his friends that you'd met in the two months you knew each other so far. Your heart was beating a little too fast for comfort right now, the idea of the two of you being alone together at night sending your mind into a frenzy.

There's a comfortable amount of space between you and Leon on the sofa, though you wished you were curled up on his lap. If only you knew how badly he wanted that too. The movie plays, but your concentration is on anything but. His cologne invades your senses, the subtle sound of his breathing solidifying the fact that he was right next to you.

Feigning fatigue, you "casually" let your head fall upon his shoulder, causing Leon's breath to hitch. He sits still, not daring to move an inch, afraid you might move yourself. He felt the way your knee brushed against his, your arms that were just itching to wrap around him. At first, he thought he was just imagining things; wishful thinking playing tricks on him for the umpteenth time.

But then your arms did wrap around his waist, lazily draped over him. You made yourself more comfortable, body flush against his, leaning against him like he was your boyfriend.

Leon really didn't want to say anything. But he just couldn't help it. "Everything okay?" You were generally touchy, sure, but there seemed to be meaning behind your actions this time.

"Yeah." The way you say yeah makes it seem like he's crazy for insinuating otherwise. "Why do you ask?"

"I-I don't know," Leon feels like he's dug his own grave. He clears his throat, "You're being awfully...affectionate." And now he wants to shoot himself.

You laugh. You fucking laugh. Leon blinks twice, wondering if he's dreaming.

"Do you have a problem with that?"

"Not necessarily." He coughs. "It's just a little, um," Leon frantically searches for the right words to use, "Unexpected, I guess."

"I can let go if you're uncomfortable." Please don't, he wants to say.

"Nah, it's fine. I don't mind." And on that note, you smile, returning your gaze to movie, even if Leon's face was a million times more interesting. Of course the scene playing on the screen is Jesse and Celine's first kiss. How cliché. You're both fighting the urge to follow by example.

Silence envelopes the room, the air thick with tension that never really existed between the two of you before. Getting all awkward over a kissing scene felt so awfully juvenile, but it wasn't your fault Leon had that effect on you, and vice-versa. Both of your eyes are locked on the TV, not daring to look at one another.

To your surprise, Leon says, very quietly, "You're really pretty."

His words rip through the stillness. You don't know how to respond, but also don't want to leave him hanging. So you pull back a bit, enough to get a better view of his perfect face, and smile, "What?"

"You heard me," he mumbles, baby blue eyes meeting yours. Seeing Leon all shy strikes something within you.

"I did. I just..." God, this was awkward.

"I know this might seem weird, but..." Leon sighs softly, biting the corner of his lip for a second as he searched for the best words to use. "I think you're a great girl. Sweet, too. And I really want to kiss you." He mentally chastised himself for sounding so cliché, so corny.

He quickly adds, "You don't have to say anything, by the way. I just...I needed to get that off my chest." As if you could go on normally after this.

You stare at him in disbelief, mulling over his words, wondering if he was just saying things. When you were inviting him over to watch a movie together, you didn't expect a heartfelt confession, but really it was naïve to think you wouldn't. Especially after holding onto him like that. Your reluctance to respond has Leon's expression fall flat.

So you don't say anything. You kiss him. And he doesn't waste any time kissing you back. It's soft, delicate. Testing the waters. His hands clasp onto your hips, slowly smoothing up and down your back. It doesn't take long for him to really get into it, though.

The outside world fades into nothing, the feeling of Leon's chapped lips on yours overpowering any other. "Are you sure about this?" He mumbles between kisses, unsure if you really wanted to kiss, or simply did it to please him. You mumble a quick shut up and tangle your fingers into his soft hair.

Your hips shift a bit, coaxing him into pulling you onto his lap, lips still connected together. You only get sloppier with your kisses, forcing yourself to breathe through your nose, just in case he might change his mind about all of this the moment you part.

"Easy baby," Leon whispers, pushing you back slightly; this definitely wasn't the reaction he was expecting. "I'm not going anywhere."

It's safe to say the movie didn't get finished. Good thing you both watched it before.

[ariseur]

'Ello luv, it's been a while since I saw someone writing for DMC ugh, miss when dmc(5) was trending... What a good time!

I don't know if your requests are open or not, but catch up with me!! Our pretty girls and boys with a vampire!reader! Or or— A WITCH! BOTH

Like, you choose if it's a bunch of headcanons, blurbs, a full one shot with a character or not, I just really want to see it!

Well, obviously if you can do it honey, if you can't it's fine <3

dmc crew dating a vampire 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

devil may cry x reader

┊ ˚➶ notes ｡˚ 🎼

this was actually my first request on this blog!! i don’t know why i put it off for so long bc it’s literally so cool?? i ended up just doing a vampire instead of witch/vampire witch so i hope you guys enjoy considering my phone crashed trying to copy n paste this from my notes to tumblr 💋

┊ ˚➶ warnings ｡˚ 🎼

blood (but in the vampire way ykyk), fangs and mentions of sharp teeth, intended lowercase, kinda spoilers for dmc5 in v’s,

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ . ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓓ANTE — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ you are literally so hot in DANTE’s eyes, you could honestly do no wrong.

❥ i think you guys already know what i’m gonna say..

❥ if you feed on blood or need it for some sort of sustenance, dante will gladly volunteer. he thinks it’s the hottest thing ever.

❥ although, i’m not sure if vampires much like demon blood..

❥ eh, oh well. dante will still think it’s attractive, especially if you have fangs or some sort of sharper canines.

❥ only downside to being a vampire and dating dante is that you’ll occasionally hear a super bad transylvanian accent. like.. really bad.

❥ but!! if you’re also a demon hunter like him— and you have some cool freaky powers like draining blood or energy from empusas or really just any ability that’s useful, it’s heart eyes all around from him.

❥ you could be covered in blood or feasting on something and then you’ll spot dante in the corner wielding devil sword dante after defeating like seventy fuckin other demons and he’s just.. mesmerized.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓥ERGIL — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ VERGIL’s much more curious about your species. do you have any weaknesses? are the fictionalized versions of your kind portrayed accurately? what are you exactly?

❥ luckily he’s a lot more quiet about his curiosity compared to, maybe— nico. his staring is intimidating, though. when he sits with you or near you, he’ll usually just study you. maybe it looks like he’s judging but he’s really just analyzing your appearance. especially if you have any distinctive features.

❥ if you have that dark ruddy aesthetic, he’ll likely admire from afar even if red isn’t exactly his favorite color.

❥ if you really needed it, he’d let you feed off of him although it’s definitely not his first choice. he’s not really a fan of being bitten, especially if you need to bite his neck or something like that.

❥ probably finds some esoteric artistic poem or painting with an underlying meaning of having to do with vampires and thinks of you every time he looks at it.

❥ his gothic poetic side is showing

❥ ugh i just wanna kiss his scowl so bad but i also wanna punch him.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓝ERO — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ nero literally thinks it’s so cool.

❥ he might be a little wary once he first meets you? like are you gonna tackle him rn and sacrifice him with your own lil blood ritual?

❥ but once he finds out you’re docile or that you pick and choose on whom you feed on, he’s like, “oh okay that’s cool”

❥ probably like dante where the only version he knows of vampires are the hollywood adaptations of them. so like.. he’s confused if you can go into sunlight? or you can eat certain foods? or if you can go near churches??

❥ he, too, thinks you’re super hot. however!! very iffy about you drinking blood or feeding in front of him. not like it grosses him out but it’s kinda.. weird to watch for him?? idk.

❥ another thing is that he doesn’t want you biting him at all. he’s like vergil where he’ll be baffled if you even ask, except he’s super hesitant to offer himself unless you’re super injured and in dire need of it.

❥ just step on him to shut him up atp

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓥 — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ V’s goth ass won’t shut up about how divine your species is and how fascinating he finds you.

❥ curious on your feeding habits and what you essentially need to survive, tries to find any and every book that he can about vampires so he can learn about you even more.

❥ he’s like those people who romanticize the 1800s or the salem witch trials or greece or ethel cain or lana del rey while kicking their feet and posting about it. he will find a way to make the situation poetic, trust me.

❥ finds it amusing if you’re annoyed by griffon’s teasing and threaten to eat him first if you were to ever go rogue, you might even be able to get a close mouthed chuckle out of v.

❥ utterly fascinated by just your very being, even if it’s just mundane traits. especially loves to see your fangs, dunno why but they’re just aesthetically pleasing to him.

❥ considering he’s kinda like a deteriorating human that’s basically turning into a husk, i wouldn’t recommend feeding on him unless you plan to kill him—which who would wanna murder our emo bae right here? (capcom)

❥ the type of person to roll his eyes at false folklore and representation because he’s literally in love with an actual vampire?? how dare they portray you like this??

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓛ADY — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ LADY also finds you super hot!!

❥ also interested because she’s probably never seen a vampire outside of media— so it’s a nice change of pace rather than being face to face with demons all day.

❥ despite all this, after the initial introduction, i’m not sure she’d care too hard? like— sure, you’re considered a supernatural being and all that.

❥ and although she thinks it’s super dope, i feel like it wouldn’t matter as much to her. she’s seen and done a lot of things at such a young age, i feel as though she’s almost desensitized?

❥ she’s so badass she can’t even care. she’s literally respected by dante, whom is titled ‘the legendary devil hunter’. (dmc5 did her dirty with her lack of part in the storyline 💔)

❥ she’ll respect any of your needs, and ngl also thinks you biting into her neck is hot.

❥ kinda surprised that you’re able to go out into sunlight even if she’ll never tell you that 😭

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓣RISH — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ another one who doesn’t care that much. it’s not like TRISH is dismissive of your species and where you come from, but she’s literally a full on demon who’s probably seen everything.

❥ you guys r so hot though, like the ultimate power couple.

❥ oh, and if you’re a devil hunter, too? you guys r gonna kick sm ass together. she’ll invite you to roll around with her for a while rather than with dante, although if you’re associated with devil may cry then that’s fine too. she’ll put up with dante’s ass just to visit you more often.

❥ i don’t recommend feeding off of trish?

❥ idk how vampires take to drinking demon blood

❥ but shit, if you have that red aesthetic and are just a total femme fatale (or other gender equivalent to that), trish is in charge of your outfits now.

❥ don’t even fight it, you will end up in the outfit regardless.

｡ﾟ•┈୨♡୧┈ ｡ﾟ

. ˚◞♡ ⃗ *ೃ༄ 𝓝ICO — 𓆩ꨄ︎𓆪

❥ oh boy

❥ if you’re lucky enough to survive the first meeting with NICO and you end up actually being in a relationship? you are def a trooper.

❥ when you’re first introduced, she bombards you with questions.

❥ where did you come from? do you have powers? are you like a demon and are there more of you? if so, can she harvest parts for a new bio-weapon? do vampires reproduce the same as humans? are you gonna suck her blood??

❥ she’s just a curious lady cut my girl some slack

❥ she thinks you’re so cool though!! wants you to tell her everything you know about vampires so she can log it. even if you’ve been in a long term relationship, she still can’t help but ask more questions.

❥ but!! as cool and hot as she thinks you are— like nero, she does not wanna see you feed and does not wanna be fed on!! (except.. maybe just one time to see how it feels.)

❥ ugh she just loves you sm please indulge her

[npookie0]

An Intoxicating Desire.

Vampire au kc X human reader, scenarios.  Tws: blood, human organs, possible spoilers for any routes.

This writing is a part of my collab with, the amazing, @4stor he's the one behind Angel's and V's parts (he opened requests for Angel x reader so if you want more Angel content you know where to go <3) The art at the end is also a part of out collab made by him <3

Go shower my husband with love, darling readers.

Ronin Beaufort - Your Fav Vamp, Darlin'.

To my dearest darlin’.

I hope this letter finds you well, for I, your fucking amazing boyfriend,

or ronin beaufort, however you may Call me, invite you for a lil game.

what’s the game? oh, Hoped i’d tell ya? sorry to disappoint you love, i

would never destroy a wonderful surprise, not even Over my dead body. 

Come On, baby, pay me a Lil visit And find out. maybe out game will 

inspire your new Tale? a lil human and their Eternally annoying 

vampire boyfriend having a lil game. heh don’tcha worry your Sweet 

little head over the game, you will find out soon. pay me a visit on the 

sappy-lovin’ day, why don’tcha, my human darlin’? 

                                                                                                         Your devil x

You stood in front of a palace door, it was black, tall, heavy and made out of painted wood. You never expected an… eccentric vampire like Ronin to live in a castle like that, but whenever you saw the interior it all came together. Ronin just leaned into the stereotypic vampires like Dracula and mixed it with Twilight “for the fun of it”. You never judged… okay you did. 

Now you were standing at the entrance of his home, the letter he sent you a week ago in your hand. You were curious to say the least, what new game did he plan? Usually it would be just the typical; truth or dare, people watching and making up stories about the people, nothing too crazy or unexpected. 

“I bet it’s the usual stuff.” You mumbled to yourself and pushed the door open, letting yourself in. Ronin never opened the door for you anyway in his belief the place is yours as much as it’s his and you didn’t argue. A huge castle you could call your own? That’s like a dream you weren’t willing to wake up from. 

Your eyes immediately moved over the hallway you knew so well, extravagant wallpaper and carpets, mixed with ancient furniture and the slight touch of three different pairs of combat shoes thrown on the elegant carpets. Truly Ronin style. 

Something was out of place though, there was a bowl of… chocolates on one of the fancy tables that were in the hallway solely for decorative purposes. 

Seriously, that man and his need to drive everyone around him crazy.  You looked at the chocolates, they seemed normal, and that should be the first red flag for your lil head, but you have a thing for ignoring red flags don’t you? 

You ate one of the chocolates, at first nothing seemed out of the ordinary, at least until you took a Bite and… oh god is that blood? The metallic taste on your tongue couldn’t come from anything else; you spat out the chocolate into your hand, you felt something twist in your stomach when you saw the red liquid on your palm. The world was spinning in front of your eyes. Yeah, you knew that Ronin is a vampire and that he finds great enjoyment in consuming blood, but to this extent? 

“You lost, darlin'.” A quiet whisper sounded in your Ears, a hand wrapped itself around your waist. You felt someone's torso pressing itself to your back and someone's hot breath tingling your neck. 

Ronin. 

“What do you mean I lost? We haven't started playing yet, Ronin” You calmed yourself to the best of your abilities, which was hard with your gut feeling telling you that you're in danger. 

Yeah, Ronin is your boyfriend, but he's still a deranged vampire who'll do anything to break the chains of boredom and indulge himself in his sick desires. 

“Awh, but we did. Darlin' this was our game.” Your eyes widened. What did he mean by that? Chocolates being a game? Maybe Ronin really lost it this time. 

“Why so shocked? Did’ja really think I would put a whole basket of chocolates at the entrance? Tsk, tsk, I thought you knew me better, love.” He tightened his hold around your waist. “As for my reward for winning-” Before he could finish the sentence you turned around and cupped his face with your hands. 

“Heyy why don’t you give me another chance? Don’t you think it’s too easy if you win without a little struggle Ro? Or are you just scared that I’d actually beat you?” Playing with his ego was a really convincing way to get Ronin to change his mind. After all he would have to prove you wrong now to keep his pride. 

“Heh, you’re so fuckin’ right sweetheart. Maybe you’re smarter than I expected.” He clicked his tongue and took a step back just to circle you. His eyes locked on you like a predator looking at his prey, well you weren’t far from the truth. He Is a predator, and you are his human lover, and sometimes a snack if he’s not in the mood to find a new person to change into a blood bag. 

“So, what are we playing now?” You asked, your gaze following his every mood. 

“What about a little hunt? Y’know, something thrilling.” He snickered. “Ya try to hide from me, if I find you, you lose.” There was that dangerous glint in his eye, the same look he would give you when he’s excited about something. 

“And how do I win?” You asked, crossing your arms over your chest. If there’s a reward maybe you’ll feel Nearly as eager to play as he is. 

“Good question my darling. How do you win…” He took a few steps towards you and you backed away with every new step he took, soon you felt the hard wall behind your back. 

He put his hand under your chin and looked into your eyes, you were hypnotised by the neverending void that kept many secrets within itself. Secrets you wanted to uncover one day. 

“If you manage to put this rose on me before I catch you, you win.” He placed a dried rose in your hand, it was black with all of its thorns still intact. The flower, even dead and dry for a while now, still didn’t lack beauty. Maybe it’s the deadliness that made it so charming? Maybe it was the same case for Ronin and the reason behind your lack of fear towards his vampirism. 

“Alright then, prepare to lose, Beaufort!” With a daring smile you ran through the hallway. 

You didn’t have a plan, heck you didn’t Even know if he was following after you. Damn Ronin and his damned ability to walk without making any sounds. You had one mission; getting that rose on Ronin at all cost. 

You ran through the hallways of Ronin’s castle, the dark corridors bathed in darkness and shadows, you could see the beautiful full moon through the big windows, usually covered by thick and long black curtains to prevent any sunlight from getting into the palace. You could hear your heartbeat, fastening with every second with every new turn you took or noise you heard. 

You weren’t stupid, you knew that Ronin would catch up to you at any given moment, even if he gave you time to run off, it would never be enough. He knows this castle better than you know the characters in your stories, and that meant that you’re in some serious trouble. 

It was worth the adrenaline though, being chased like this, as if your life was truly endangered, it made you feel alive. Like nothing could stop you from running. Your blood was hot, boiling even, your breath was fast, you were almost out of it. It all felt amazing, 

It didn’t take long until you heard loud and heavy footsteps somewhere behind you, panicking as you entered one of the many rooms in the castle’s left wing. You couldn’t see anything, it was far too dark for you pathetic human eyes, the only thing Visible for you was the crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling. Your eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness and that's when you realised that you're even more fucked. It's the castle's throne room, you were there only once; when Ronin was giving you a tour around the castle. 

The room was beautiful, with two elegant thrones on a platform, overlooking the whole room, ready for the royal couple to greet their guests. Unfortunately, the thrones - even if extremely beautiful, made of the finest material, designed to be grand and eye-catching - were the only piece of furniture the room had to offer. 

You stood in front of two choices, hide behind the thrones or try to sneak out And Look for another room. The latter was less likely to happen, Ronin was too close, leaving now meant losing and you weren't willing to give up that easily. 

You moved as quietly as possible to the thrones at the End of the room and sat behind them. A hand to your mouth as you tried to calm your breathing and stay quiet. 

Thud. Thud. Thud. 

Ronin's footsteps were getting louder with every second, you heard the doors to the rooms next to yours open. It was horrifyingly exciting, knowing how close he is to finding you.

“Oh, writer darlin' where are you?” His voice came directly from behind the throne’s room doors. 

He was so close, too close. 

You had no means to escape, your hiding spot wasn’t helping either, you could only hope that he would walk past the throne room. If only hope and prayers really worked… 

You heard a creak when the door was pushed open, and steps echoed through the almost empty room, stopping in the middle of it. You held your breath, trying your best to make as little Noise as possible. Even your heart was too loud in that moment, each beat reaching your ears. You cursed yourself in your mind for choosing this room out of all the other available choices. 

You could hear Ronin getting closer to the thrones, but before he reached your hiding spot he stopped in his tracks and clicked his tongue. 

“Nah, They’re not here.” He said to himself, sounding disappointed. The sound of his steps getting further away from you was like a blessing you didn’t know you were awaiting. The door shut with a loud thud. You could finally breathe and decide on your next move, maybe even make a plan to actually win. 

You stood up from the floor, making your way towards the door with new found confidence, with Ronin making his way to the other rooms you should be able to chase him and put the flower on him. Before you could even walk away from the elegant seats, someone pushed you on one of the thrones and pinned you to it. 

“Awh darling, you lost, again.” Ronin’s face was Inches away from yours, you could see the shit-eating grin glued to his face. The disgustingly strong aura of confidence emanating from him. 

That bastard, of course it was a trap, you should’ve known it. Why would Ronin willingly skip over an obvious hiding spot and move on to another room? You’re such a fool, and it’s only because of some imaginary reward you would Never even get. Wow Y/N, you’re so smart. 

“So, what’s your reward?” You asked. You didn’t like the look he was giving you, it was too secretive. 

“Oh nothin’ much, watching you run around like an idiot was almost enough.” He titled your head back, tracing your neck with his thumb. “Almost. I’m starving, love.” He purred into your ear, his voice causing you to shiver. You swallowed, it was blood he was after. 

You looked into his eyes, he looked starved, just ready to bury his fangs in your neck. The thought alone, making your face flush. Your taste in men is really questionable… 

“Well, it’s your reward, take it.” He cackled at your reply, the sound sick, yet sweet to your Ears.

“With pleasure, my love.” He whispered into your ear, kissing the side of your head before his lips found their way to your neck. 

At first he was gentle, kissing your neck, but then he sank his teeth in it, the pain not unfamiliar, still unwelcome. You could feel his hold on your waist tighten, as he sucked on your blood, drinking it like he’s a starved animal getting food for the first time, like he’s an addict. After a while, the pleasure kicked in, the intimacy of it all fucking with your head. Ronin’s touch was tender, even if he was just taking some of your blood away from you. He still made sure that you weren’t about to pass out in front of him. 

When you started feeling lightheaded, Ronin recognised it, taking his teeth out of your neck, licking the small streak of blood that was running down your neck. 

“Happy valentines, baby.” He kissed your forehead. “Thank you for the sweet, sweet, meal.” 

Did you get the devil’s message, darlin’ reader?

Maria de la Rosa - Vampiric Perfect Angel.

For you, everything will be perfect, my sweetheart~

An elegant Angel was running around the kitchen, her perfect pink dress with decorative black roses spread on the floor making her look more majestic than usual. She was preparing for her very special day just for her lover, making sure that everything was perfect for her beloved’s visit. Every pastry and sweet was chosen with care, even the room was meticulously prepared for just the two of you. She wanted everything to be perfect. Ensuring that your Valentine’s date would be flawless and unforgettable.

She hummed to herself as she was taking the red velvet cake from the oven with protection gloves on. Servants and maids of De La Rosa’s castle were astonished to witness their young lady baking on her own—and doing it flawlessly—was a surprise. Maria’s excitement outweighed any concerns about the whispers and rumors amongst servants and maids. She could only care about her partner, her lover, the person she’ll be spending time with for the day till night.

My words will make your heart dance, my Angel.

Meanwhile, you were engrossed in writing a new novel—A vampire romance with a thrilling twist, something that Maria was especially eager to hear about. It was carefully crafted with intricate details in its scenes. You poured your heart and soul into words to create tension, passion, and the danger intertwined in its world. The story consumed your thoughts, Maria De La Rosa as your basis for your main character. After all, who else can depict the sweet lovable femme fatale other than your darling lover? You wanted a twist, the type of plot where it isn’t the usual Twilight and Dracula plot. You wanted the character to feel much more just like her, besides, it helps when you’re that hyperfixated over your love.

But with you, you know that she’s just Maria—even with her vampirism—she treats you better than all others.

And as for Maria? As usual, she is caught up in everything a born vampire princess could be busy with: grand balls, meetings with her new chamberlain (the one who manages the personal affairs of the princess) who was a much better improvement over Finian, and challenges with modeling as a vampire. Explaining to people that she only likes pictures done with one specific camera made her look like a picky spoiled rich girl, but what can she do? She can’t just tell everyone that it’s because regular cameras can’t capture her due to her vampirism.

Red velvet cake, one of our shared favorites

Maria finally cuts the cake, the servants take the trays of food and freshly brewed tea to the room Angel had prepared. The clock was ticking, it was almost time for your arrival, she was excited, all giddy and giggly. She made sure everything was in place, the vibe and the lights perfectly done for their little date. She checked her appearance: makeup, dress, anything that seemed out of place were retouched before she walked out down the corridors and by the main entrance.

The De La Rosa castle was adorned in a palette of white and rose gold, exuding elegance and perfection —an ideal reflection of a family renowned for producing one of the world's greatest models. She was, without a doubt, their most treasured jewel.

Finally, the door was open and there you stood, Y/N, with the matching color scheme outfit she sent to you. Magnificent clothing done with its finest for this very day, and in your hand was a gift. This was Maria de la Rosa’s partner, someone she cherished dearly and held close to her heart. You were always ready to listen to her, visit her whenever she asks you to, go out for little dates with her like the ones in the romantic movies she loved so much. You were a dream come true, the one who accepted her vampirism and let her be herself. It meant more to her than she could ever express, she was grateful.

She walks towards you with the knowing sweet smile, “My love! You’re here!” her eyes sparkled in delight at your presence.

Your hand reaches her cheek, a soft chaste kiss on her lips from your own. You missed her, you knew that and she did too, “I missed you, love” you whisper sweet nothings to her, a soft smile forms your lips.

Maria, flustered as ever, smiles with you. Her warmth radiating at the quiet moment, she leans her forehead against yours to feel your presence, a lingering moment for both of them as the world seems to fade away from them. Their heart beats in sync with their soft breaths mingling before their eyes flutter open and lock into one another with unspoken emotion.

She giggles, breaking the silence, “As much as I’d like to stay like this quietly with you… You’d miss out what I have planned if we stayed like this,”

“Yeah?” You say with your thumb caressing her cheek softly, “I didn’t know you had something prepared, I was just thinking about spending the day with you at the lounge.” you chuckle

“Well it’s Valentine’s day, silly! What more than to spend a special day with your lover?” she smiles charmingly

“Yeah… What more than to spend a day with my princess, my angel, my loving Maria,” You trail your hand down to hers, “Either way, I’m happy to see you. I can’t wait to tell you about the novel I have in progress.” Maria beams in happiness before entwining her fingers with yours.

“Then let’s go~”

Just us, no princess work, no modeling, no pretty diamonds.

It’s just you and me, baby. Person to person.

Your lips on mine as you held my hand. A caress on my cheek, and our hearts flourishing under the moonlight.

It was a night neither of you would forget—a perfect blend of indulgence and romance. The evening had unfolded like a well-orchestrated symphony, with each course arriving in harmonious succession. You had savored a delicate appetizer, followed by a carefully chosen side dish that complemented the rich flavors of the main course. Every bite was shared with quiet laughter, soft glances, and gentle touches. And just when the night couldn't seem any more perfect, dessert arrived—a sweet finale to an already unforgettable evening, lingering on your lips like the memory of a perfect kiss.

Sweet sweet red velvet cake~

Maria lifted a small bite to your lips, her eyes watching you with quiet anticipation as you took it in. The sweetness melted effortlessly on your tongue, rich and delicate, a perfect balance of flavor that made you sigh in delight. A soft chuckle escaped her as she caught the way your expression shifted-eyes fluttering shut for a moment, savoring the taste. She knew you loved it, and that knowledge alone filled her with warmth. "I knew you'd like it," she mused, her voice laced with satisfaction as she playfully tapped the spoon against your lips, silently offering another bite.

“Mm~ and speaking of sweets~” You hummed as you brought out your little gift to her. Delicious handmade chocolates, icing so striking one would never be able to stop craving.

Maria was astonished, gaze shifting from the chocolate to your eyes. “You’re not the only one who prepared a little something,” you mused as you brought a chocolate to her lips, “Go on, princess. Try it,” you coo with a smile.

Maria took a small bite of the chocolate, savoring its chewy sweetness as it melted on her tongue. But what caught her off guard was the lingering aftertaste—a distinct metallic tang that sent a shiver down her spine. She hadn't noticed at first, but now her eyes drifted to your fingertips, where droplets of blood trickled down, staining the remnants of the chocolate. Your smile gleamed in the dim light, unreadable, almost teasing. But Maria knew—without a doubt—what she had just tasted.

“Do you like it?” You ask with a teasing tone, Maria confirmed it—it was blood—she could taste the fear of its blood, her partner was certainly something. Something she never expected even.

“Who did you kill to make this?” She asked, taking another bite of the remaining chocolate, this time the metallic taste came with its sweetness rather than its after taste.

“It’s no one you should worry about,” You replied, retracting your hand away before she suddenly grabs it and licks the remaining blood off your finger tips.

“Wow, didn’t think princess Maria would be this messy with blood,” You smirk, catching sight of the blood on her lips and instinctively reaching out to wipe it away. As your fingers brush against her skin, you pull back—but Maria doesn't look away. Her gaze locks onto you, something shifting in her expression, something primal. Then, you realize why. A faint sting lingers on your fingertip, a small wound now seeping crimson. Her sharp tooth must have grazed you. Slowly, deliberately, she licks the blood from her teeth, her blue eyes darkening with an unspoken hunger as she stares into yours, filled with an undeniable need.

She stood up from her seat and circles around the table, locking eye contact with yours. She placed hand over your cheek before taking your thumb, “Poor you, you grazed through my teeth…” she coos softly before licking your thumb, then capturing a needy kiss from your lips which you returned. You can hear each other’s hearts beating in sync, the taste of your own blood that she loves better.

Slowly, Maria pulled away first, her eyes fluttering open to lock with yours, “I like your blood better…” she coos with soft heat rising up her cheeks. She was definitely flustered.

“Mm… I don’t mind if it’s you,” You held her hand softly, kissing her palm with tenderness.

She smiles softly, recapturing your lips into a passionate deepened kiss. You could feel her dominate you, for a princess full of sweet romance, she also liked these private sessions with you. She thinks you’re cute this way, that you’ve willingly submitted to her. Her special red rose and you liked that.

She pulls away, a breathy gasp escaping your lips as her softness traces from your jawline down to your neck. Each touch is slow, deliberately heated yet tender, carrying a passion that makes your pulse race. You shift slightly, granting her better access, and she wastes no time burying herself against you. Soft, lingering kisses pepper your skin, sending a shiver down your spine.

Your gaze flickers to the mirror, catching the sight of your lips-smeared with red, whether from her lipstick or the aftermath of your fevered embrace, you can't quite tell. Then, without warning, a gentle bite. Her grip around your waist is firm yet delicate as she drinks from you, and you close your eyes, exhaling a slow sigh. There's discomfort, but it's the kind that feels intoxicating, the kind that keeps you wanting more.

Maria knows how to control herself, how to take just enough without hurting you, but tonight-tonight is an exception. She drinks you in as if you're the richest, most forbidden wine, and it takes everything in her not to indulge too much. A hand moves behind her, pulling her closer as you press your lips to her bare shoulder, surrendering to the night.

God your blood is so intoxicating, I desire you right now, baby

She pulls away just in time, her blue eyes scanning your face with concern. A soft furrow forms between her brows, her lips slightly parted as if about to ask if you're alright. But before she can, you offer a small, reassuring smile, cupping her cheek gently. Without hesitation, you lean in, brushing your lips against hers—still smeared with crimson. The taste lingers, rich and intoxicating, a reminder of the moment you just shared.

Minutes pass, the air between you shifting from heated to something softer, something intimate in a quieter way. After freshening up, you both settle onto the plush couch, plates in hand, indulging in the sweet decadence of dessert. The velvety richness melts on your tongue, but it's Maria's presence that truly satisfies. She listens intently as you talk about your book, your voice always music to her ears.

“I wonder who that main character is based on~” Maria coos softly into your ears prompting a giggle from you

“Guess.” You replied with a tease in your tone

Maria giggled softly, God you love her laugh so much, “I’m so happy… Being with you makes me so happy…” she whispers.

Her fingers trace lazy patterns on your arm, her body curled close to yours as if drawn by an invisible force. The conversation flows effortlessly, punctuated by soft laughter and knowing glances.

“Y/n…”

“Yes, Maria?”

“Gosh… I love you so much… My sweet lover…” she says with a sigh before continuing, “Loving you will never be regrettable at all, you’ve shown me so much unconditional love and acceptance that it almost feels too much… And honestly? I thought romance died before you came to my life… I never knew that all I needed was someone like you, someone who understood me, someone who I can be vulnerable with and feel accepted. Someone who sees the real me, who doesn’t fear or flinch by my presence. I’m so happy that it’s you…” Her eyes looked glassy, but you knew that she was happy and content.

“Maria…”

“Y/n…”

“I love you, my Angel…”

“I love you too, Y/n…”

“My life changed when I met you… You were someone I was happy that I never ran away from. That I chose to love you. My heart… it’s beating so fast…” You say as she places her hand on your chest

“I know… Can you hear mine too?” She placed your hand on her chest. Both hearts beat in sync. Lost in the eyes full of love.

This time, you make your first move. You shift on your seat, now seemingly taller than her as you capture her lips into a soft tender kiss which she returned. You could hear it now, your hearts beating faster and louder. God her lips always felt so good, I love her so much

You pull away from her, caressing her cheek as she held your hips with heat rising on her cheeks, then finally…

“Happy Valentine’s day, Maria. I love you,”

“Happy Valentine’s day to you too, mi amor. I love you too,”

You both lean against each other’s foreheads under the quiet dim light enjoying the quiet romance and unspoken emotions as your eyes flutter closed.

The taste of your blood was like the sweetness of love I never would have expected. Like a rich forbidden wine, you were more than just treasure.

You are...an indulgence I can never resist, a temptation that lingers on my tongue and seeps into my very being. You are the craving I cannot tame, the desire that turns my restraint to ash. Every drop of you sings a melody of longing, and with each taste, I fall deeper-helplessly, willingly.

I love you, Reader. Happy Valentine’s to you, I hope I made you feel so loved

Valentin Viljoen - Eternal Follower of Justice.

In sleep he sang to me, in dreams he came…

The voice which calls to me and speaks my name

You stand before your mirror, adjusting the delicate fabric of your attire for tonight's grand event. The anticipation hums beneath your skin, a mixture of curiosity and nervousness. A letter had arrived earlier this week, carried by his owl—an elegant, meticulously sealed forest green invitation to an evening at his castle. A grand ball, no less. He was never one for extravagant public affairs, always preferring the solitude of dimly lit corridors and whispered conversations. And yet, tonight, he had arranged something grand, something meant for the “two of you” that is yet to be discovered.

You step outside, the sound of wheels settling on cobblestone pulls your attention. The carriage awaits, an ornate masterpiece bathed in the golden glow of lanterns, it’s like Cinderella all over again, taking you to your loving prince. It stands there like an extension of him, silent yet commanding, as if his very voice calls you forward just like in your dreams, he always appears shrouded, veiled in mystery and shadow. And yet, you yearn to unmask what lies beneath—to see his loving eyes unobscured, to trace the contours of his face with your fingertips, to know him fully, beyond the secrecy he keeps.

And do I dream again?

For now I find

The phantom of the opera is there inside my mind…

You take a deep breath and step forward. The coachman, dressed in fine but muted attire, offers his gloved hand to assist you. With practiced ease, he helps you into the carriage, the plush forest green interior swallowing you in an embrace of luxury. The door shuts with a soft click, sealing you within this moment, this journey toward a night of unknown promises.

The carriage lurches forward, wheels rolling steadily against the path, carrying you toward the mystery that is him.

Let’s dance, my love.

You arrive by the main entrance of the castle as the wheels of the carriage rolled through the cobblestone till it fades away. And once again, you hear a voice call out to you.

“Come to me, my angel”

You take a step forward and push the giant gates which presents the beautiful dim corridors of a forest green interior with white accent. This was not your first visit, however you were still at awe with the luxury he lives in.

“Angel to my music…”

The faint strains of an orchestra reach your ears, the melody weaving through the walls like an enchantment meant only for you. Each note feels familiar, as if composed for this very moment-strings trembling with longing, piano keys whispering secrets only your heart can understand.

Then, amidst the harmony, you hear it. His voice. Soft, distant, yet unmistakable. It calls to you, threading through the music like an invisible hand guiding you forward. A hallucination, perhaps. Or maybe, just maybe, it is real.

Your pulse quickens as you step closer, the towering doors of the ballroom standing before you like a threshold between reality and something far more ethereal. The golden carvings on the frame glisten under the chandelier's glow, an unspoken invitation. All it takes is a single push.

With a deep breath, your fingers press against the cold surface of the door. It yields under your touch, gliding open effortlessly, and at that moment, the music swells welcoming, beckoning. A sea of what you thought would be an opulence and masked faces that should stretch before you was none other than an entire orchestra and a room of emptiness, the ballroom bathed in a golden radiance. And yet, amidst the grandeur, your gaze searches for only one.

The one who called you here.

“V…” You mutter under your breath

He smiles at your presence, arm outstretched beckoning you closer, “Sing once again with me… Our strange duet,” he steps forward, which draws you in like some hypnotic spell that lures you into his arms.

“My power over you… grows stronger yet” He held your hand, his voice deep and majestic like he could sing in an opera.

You try to draw near him, yearning for his mask, “And though you turn from me, to glance behind” he sang, filling your cheek as he restricts you from getting near his mask in a form of teasing.

The phantom of the opera is there…inside your mind.

“Eyes on me, my love” He whispers as he holds your waist firmly, eyes locked together as you make a quick turn. Steps in sync with his perfectly like he knew what he was doing, a man in control of you. His loving angel.

Those who have seen his face always draw back in fear. Whispers surround him like a ghostly shroud, murmured tales like stories of horrors and secrecy. Claiming curses of his features that his mask is not an accessory but a necessity, hiding something no mortal should ever lay their eyes upon. Others merely insist that he’s in vain, unwilling to let the world see the truth that lies beneath.

You’ve always been curious.

What do you hide underneath?

Unlike the others, you do not flinch in fear. No, never at the mystery that surrounds him. He chose you—his partner— for this very reason. Instead, it draws you in like the pull of the moon on the tide. He gives you a twirl before you step closer to him again, hand reaching the hem of his mask before he takes your hand gently with a glint of tease in his eyes.

He’s definitely playing with you. It was not his thing, but perhaps this was the “special gift” that he mentioned in his invitation.

The music swells, and you move in perfect harmony, a waltz woven from unspoken words and the steady rhythm of your hearts. His soft smile never wavers, a silent promise of devotion as he leads you effortlessly across the ballroom floor. Every step is deliberate, each turn filled with passion, as if the world around you has faded into nothingness. The grand chandeliers cast their golden glow upon you both, your eyes set only for each other.

(My) Your spirit and (My) your voice in one combined..

The phantom of the opera is there, inside (my) your mind.

His hands rest firmly on your waist, guiding you with unwavering confidence, ensuring that not even a moment of imbalance could break this sacred dance. The fabric of your attire flutters as he spins you, his grip unwavering, a silent vow that he will never let you fall.

He’s there the phantom of the opera

And then, as the orchestra reaches its crescendo, he lifts you effortlessly, elevating you above the floor, where you gleam beneath the enchanting light. 

To the gleaming lights of the grand chandeliers and orchestra, you are a vision of grace, two souls lost in a dance that speaks of longing and eternity. But to him, you are something more—his muse, his melody, the angel to his music beneath the moonlit sky.

You both part as you gracefully land, yet curiosity gnaws at you, urging you forward. The music swells, reaching its peak, mirroring the quickening rhythm of your heart. Beckons you a hand to his mask, a silent invitation, his gaze drawing you in-closer, ever closer.

It’s your chance.

“Come my angel.”

You take a cautious step forward, and he mirrors you by stepping back, an unspoken challenge lingering in the air. Soon, your movements fall into perfect harmony, a delicate yet intense game unfolding between you. Each step becomes a silent conversation, the space between you shrinking and expanding like the ebb and flow of a tide. The music swells, each note weaving an intricate tale, a dramatic crescendo of longing and mystery. It is as if the entire ballroom is holding its breath, captivated by this dance, by the tension, by the anticipation of what comes next.

You want to know what’s underneath, you’re craving to know. You want to reach your hands out and fill both his cheeks and kiss him. You want to be able to look into his eyes and cherish the mysterious beauty he hides no matter how scary he is. Before you know it, he stepped out of the ballroom leaving the door open like he knew you’d follow.

And you did.

You rush out of the ballroom, your heart pounding as you search for your lover. "V?" you call out, your voice echoing through the grand hall. Your eyes scan the dimly lit surroundings until you catch sight of him standing by the staircase, a knowing smile playing on his lips. Without a word, he turns and ascends the steps, his figure disappearing into the shadows of the second floor. Without hesitation, you follow, your footsteps quickening as he vanishes into the left wing of his castle, drawing you deeper into his world.

This is just the beginning of our dance, my angel

Through every dimly lit corridor, the moonlight spills in through arched windows, casting long, ghostly shadows along the stone walls. Your heart pounds against your chest as you push forward, chasing after the fleeting figure ahead. His presence is near—you can feel it in the faint whisper of footsteps, in the distant rustle of fabric brushing against the cold floor. Every turn leads you deeper into the castle, but the more you pursue him, the farther he seems to slip from your grasp.

It dawns on you—how little you truly know about him. His face, forever hidden behind his mask, remains a mystery. His voice, haunting yet gentle, has always kept you captivated, yet his true nature remains elusive. He is an enigma wrapped in darkness, and yet, in the depths of your heart, there is no doubt. You do not need to see his face to know the love he bears for you, unconditional and unwavering. It is something you cherish now more than ever, something you yearn to protect—to hold onto for eternity.

I’m right here, my love. Always here.

You come to an abrupt halt, your breath hitching as the atmosphere thickens around you. The room ahead glows with a faint, ethereal light, casting soft shadows that dance along the polished floors. Then, his voice—velvety, haunting, and intoxicating—calls out to you once more, drawing you in like a siren's song. His invitation is unspoken yet irresistible, and with a steadying breath, you push the door open, stepping into the unknown.

The sight before you is nothing short of breathtaking. A grand yet intimate room, adorned with dark wooden furniture that exudes timeless elegance, welcomes you. The air is rich with the scent of aged books and a hint of something sweet. At the center stands an exquisitely set table, bathed in the warm glow of candlelight. But what truly captures your attention is the confection laid atop it—a decadent cake, its intricate design shaped into a heart, a macabre yet oddly beautiful symbol of devotion. Surrounding it are delicate chocolates, each crafted with care, as if whispering sweet temptations.

And then, there he is—your lover, waiting, watching. His presence commands the room, his masked gaze never straying from you. His lips curl into the faintest smile, a silent promise of the night yet to unfold.

“V…”

“Y/n.”

He takes your hand and kisses the ridge of your hand before planting a soft kiss onto your lips that you so fell for. He fills your cheek, deepening your kiss passionately before pulling away.

“Did you enjoy our dance?” He asked softly to which you nod in confirmation

“I did, it was unexpected but… I did” He chuckles at your response before bringing you to the table where he sat you at the beautiful chair in front of the cake.

“A sweet delicacy, made for you.” He held a plate of slice ready for you

You giggle softly, “I want to ask a favor, just one.” your gaze locked into his

“Which is?”

“Your face”

“No”

You fill his cheeks with your delicate hands, “Pretty please?”

He sighs, “You’ll fear what’s underneath, my love”

“You’re talking to a human who fell for their vampire lover, how worse can it get?” Your words hint with teasing, “Besides, isn’t trust a foundation of the relationship?” You draw closer to him, your hand placed by the hem of his mask. He doesn’t stop you, not this time—instead, he locks within your gaze, curiosity piqued his interest at your reaction to what you could express.

At last, with determined hands, you lift his mask, unveiling the mystery that has long been hidden from you. Beneath the polished porcelain lies a face marked by a burn scar—an imprint of the past that others recoil from, a sight that has instilled fear in many. But not you. Never you.

Where the world sees tragedy, you see resilience. Where they see imperfection, you see beauty—a tale of survival written upon his skin. The mask slips from your grasp, falling to the floor with a hollow clatter, forgotten in the moment. Without hesitation, you cradle his face in your hands, tracing the lines of his features as if memorizing every inch.

His breath hitches, uncertainty flickering in his eyes, but you silence his doubts with a fervent kiss. It is not pity, not mere acceptance, but devotion—a promise that you love him as he is, unmasked, raw, and real.

I am never afraid of you, sweetheart.

Both you and your lover spent in the quiet intimacy of the moment, the low hum of candlelight flickering against the dark wooden walls. A gentle conversation flows between you, soft and unhurried, as if time itself has slowed to savor this night.

He lifts a delicate bite of cake to your lips, his fingers steady, his amber eyes gleaming with something unreadable. "I promise, you'll love it," he murmurs with a knowing smile, his voice velvety smooth, coaxing.

The scent of rich chocolate and something subtly unfamiliar fills your senses as you part your lips, allowing him to feed you. The warmth of his fingertips lingers near your skin, an unspoken invitation to trust him. And as the flavors melt on your tongue-sweet, decadent, and strangely metallic—you find yourself lost in his gaze, wondering just what kind of promise he has truly made.

Your brows knit together in confusion as you let the strange taste settle, your mind struggling to place it. It's familiar, yet foreign, a contradiction that leaves you uneasy. Slowly, you lift your gaze to V, who sits across from you, his expression unreadable. He watches you intently, a soft, knowing smile playing on his lips, as if he is waiting for you to understand.

“Did you like the heart?”

You stared at him, your lips still tingling from the strange mix of flavors. It wasn't like him to do something so peculiar—to feed you an actual heart-shaped cake, so lifelike it almost felt like a taunt. The chewy texture, the metallic hint beneath the sweetness, it was... unnerving.

Your brows furrow as you meet his gaze. He's watching you closely, that ever-present, knowing smile playing at his lips. There's something in his eyes-amusement, curiosity, perhaps even anticipation. 

"What?" you finally ask, your voice quieter than intended.

His fingers trail along the edge of the plate before he leans in just slightly, his breath warm against your skin. "Did you like it?"

You swallow, trying to shake the unease creeping up your spine. It was just cake... wasn't it?

“Is that..?”

He tilted his head, his smile not wavering, “Is that what?”

“A heart?”

“Yes, a heart shape” he teases you lightly

You smack V’s arm, “You know what I mean!”

He chuckles, “Yes, an actual heart inside the cake, how did you like it?”

“I mean— I don’t mind it, but I never expected a live heart from you. Maybe from a certain someone, but never you. You’ve been awfully playful tonight” V responds with a laugh

“I guess I wanted to try a little something for tonight, just us.” He leans against your neck, planting a soft kiss before holding you closely

“Care to stay over?” He asks

“I thought you’d never ask.”

You kiss his burn scar softly, “Happy Valentine’s day, Valentin”

He smiles softly before pressing a chaste kiss on your lips, “Happy Valentine’s day to you too, Y/n dear”

The moonlight streamed through the grand windows, casting a soft glow across the room, illuminating the quiet moment shared between you. Shadows danced along the walls, but neither of you paid them any mind. Instead, your gazes remained locked, speaking in a silent language only the two of you could understand.

There was no need for words, no grand declarations—just the depth of his dark eyes meeting yours, a silent promise exchanged in the stillness. His fingers brushed against yours on the table, a fleeting touch, yet enough to send warmth through your skin.

All he needed was you. In this moment, in this quiet sanctuary of moonlit devotion, nothing else mattered.

I will sing and dance for your music, my phantom.

My prince under the moonlight and hidden in the shadows.

Valentin Viljoen, you’re the unseen hand that guides my every step.

A love both haunting and eternal, forever ours to keep.

Happy Valentine’s day, my loves.

Misaki Katsuo - Sweet Even as Undead.

You were sitting in your house, eyes locked on the computer screen in front of you. You were working on a news report, that’s how your nights looked for over a month now. Your work was consuming you, taking away your life, locking away anyone. 

Including your partner Misaki. You wanted to make time for them, you really did, you even planned a whole evening of attractions for valentine's day, but it all went to hell once your phone called. Your team needed a new report about a vampire victim, seriously Ronin could take a break for one night. 

You sighed as you looked at the time, the clock almost showed seven. “Great another day spent working.” You murmured to yourself while you outstretched your arms. You weren’t even halfway done with the report. It was too much for you, you just wanted to hop onto the Bloodthirsty Losers server and spam your partner with all the “I miss you” and “I love you” messages you owed them. 

“Fuck, I’m hungry.” You mumbled when your stomach felt way too empty and painful at the same time. You stood up, pushing your office chair back, almost causing it to fall. Not like you cared, you just wanted to eat, anything would work as your perfect meal at this point, okay maybe besides human meat - you’re not Angel after all. 

You made your way to the kitchen, frowning when the only thing you saw was the yellow white reflecting the empty, white shelves of your fridge. Of course you didn’t have food, you haven’t left your house for the past week. You groaned, not in the mood to go to the store to buy instant noodles and stuff yourself with them until you forget about hunger completely. What a nutritious meal Y/n really, you’re outdoing yourself. You were about to get out your phone and call for a food delivery. 

Expect the unexpected, silly. 

The sound of your doorbell ringing filled your house. Someone was really trying to get through to you, pressing against the switch without a single pause, creating a prolonged annoying noise. 

“I’m coming! Jesus Christ…” You grumbled and made your way to your door, expecting to see an annoying girl scout trying to sell some Valentine’s Special cookies in the shape of a heart, you were considering it being your luck if the scenario was true, but what or rather who you saw on the other side of the door was beyond your wildest expectations. 

Misaki stood on the other side of the door, wearing an outfit consisting of shorts and a very ruffly elegant shirt, both were white with a pink gradient. She looked very elegant and cute. You noticed a tote bag full of… something, hanging from her shoulder, it piqued your curiosity but before you could even ask anything…

“Oh gosh! Baby finally!” Misaki exclaimed excitedly, throwing their arms around you and squealing happily when they embraced you. 

You were caught off guard. This visit was definitely unexpected, but not unwelcome. You missed them, dearly, so having them here, in your arms, happily holding you tightly was truly wonderful. 

“Ah!” You yelped, surprise still present on your face. “Misaki, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

“Ah!” You yelped, surprise still present on your face. “Misaki, sweetheart, what are you doing here?” 

“I wanted to see you, duh! You weren’t online for a while and I, and everyone else, got worried you dummy.” She stepped back and locked the door that was wide open for the whole time. “I hope you’re hungry because we’re going to bake brownies!” They didn’t give you any time to answer, kicking their shoes off and going to your kitchen. 

You wanted to huff, or argue, but you could only giggle and follow them with a stupid smile on your face, warmth filling your heart and making this evening especially enjoyable. All giddy and excited entered the kitchen to see Misaki taking out the different ingredients needed for brownies with the addition of strawberries. 

“Strawberries? Really?” You asked when you stood next to them, leaning on the kitchen counter. 

“What did you think I’d want to use for the filling? Blood? Sorry babes I only drink blood when the crazy gal in me wakes up.” They joked and took one of the strawberries into their hand. Misaki closed the distance between you and held your chin with their free hand. “Say ah~” She held the strawberry right in front of your lips. You rolled your eyes playfully and open your mouth, accepting her offering happily, 

“Okay, let’s get to baking or we’ll eat all of the strawberries.” You put your hands on their shoulders and turned them around. “I’m starvinggg.” You whined and gently pushed them towards the counters. 

A little mess never hurt nobody. 

Baking with Misaki was an… experience for sure. Your whole kitchen looked like a storm just went through it, flour everywhere, some eggs on the floor and the countertop, cocoa powder all over Misaki’s white shirt. You were trying to mix the cake mix while Misaki was clinging to your side, her head resting on your shoulder. 

Unexpectedly they pushed you gently, your hand slipping, some of the mix getting onto your wrist and hand. You huffed in annoyance and looked at Misaki. 

“Misaki, please be mor- what are you…?” You were at a loss for words when Misaki grabbed your forearm and pulled your arm to her mouth and… started licking the substance off of your hand. “Misaki, baby, darling, I know that living in a trailer might’ve messed up with your pretty lil head, but I do have running water that I could clean my hand with.” You said with an amused tone, shaking your head in disbelief. 

They let go of your hand once they finished their “job” and looked at you with a proud mischievous smirk. “Yeah, but then the cake would go to waste, dummy!” She poked your nose with a sweet cackle. “Okay let’s finish this! And then, I’ve got a surprise!” 

“What kind of surprise?” You gave them a look, what new idea could that sweet idea of their makeup? 

“If I tell you it won’t be a surprise! Now chop chop! We don’t have all night to bake.” They stuck out their tongue at you. You just playfully pinched their cheek and started working on the brownies again.

The stars in the sky were made for us. 

Misaki was holding your hand as they were guiding you to the “surprise”. They decided to blindfold you, apparently seeing would destroy everything, you decided to not question their decision. Whatever made your wonderful partner happy you would agree to do. 

“Are we there?” You asked, shouting to them because of the wind blowing at your face. 

“A few more minutes!” They shouted back with an excited chuckle, you could feel yourself being pulled harder when Misaki started to run. You ran behind her, trying to not stumble against your own feet or the ground. The ground beneath your feet was uneven, hard, in some places you could feel yourself stopping over something very fragile and easy to bend,

Your surroundings were quiet, no cars, no people, just you, Misaki and a bird here and there. The wind wasn’t so strong anymore, it was a light breeze, you heard it swaying the trees, their leaves making a peaceful melody, a song for the two of us. 

“We’re here~!” 

You felt two cold hands gently lifting the scarf they used to blindfold you up. Your eyes needed a second to adjust to your new surroundings. Finally, once they adjusted, you could look around, the darkness of the night wasn’t that overwhelming, you could see perfectly well. 

You were in the middle of a meadow, the flowers were all wilted, some trees had some leaves on them, but most were naked, their leaves on the ground, dried and dead. A snowless winter wasn’t thought of as beautiful, yet to you, the sight was mesmerizing. Seeing the earth die, just for it to come back to life and be all colourful in two months? It reminded you of your relationship with Misaki. There will be moments when work may consume you, keep you in its unbreakable chains, but she will come in, barge into your life with that sweet mischief painted all over her face, ready to steal you away from work and cause chaos. 

Even Gods won’t be able to destroy this beautiful connection. 

“Do you like the spot I picked out?” They asked, squealing happily. If Misaki was a dog, her tail would be wiggling like crazy by now. 

“Mhm! It’s deadly beautiful.” You said and took a step towards them, whispering into their ear, “Just like you, my dear.” 

Misaki’s face flushed as they punched your shoulder gently. 

“Staphh! I’m the one who’s supposed to be dorky and made you all cute and blushy today.” They huffed, trying to suppress the beaming smile that was forming on their face. 

“You’re the dorkiest and cutest.” You chuckled, patting their head. Seriously, they’re so much like a cat sometimes. A cute little kitty… Yeah you can see the vision. 

“Are we planning to stand here for god knows how long?”  

“Pfft! Of course not you little idiot! What do you think I stole your blanket for?” They poked your forehead with their index finger. “Be a sweetie and hold this for me.” They gave you their bag and took out a blanket, it was something you owned for ages so you didn’t really care if it got dirty, or if they stole it from you, which realistically was bound to happen anyway. Somehow your wardrobe became emptier ever since Misaki started to visit you, sometimes you just leave a tshirt in the middle of a room and chuckle when you notice it being gone after Misaki leaves your house. 

They’re so adorable. 

You were laying down on the blanket, hand in hand with Misaki. Looking at the night’s sky, subtly glancing at Misaki from time to time. You couldn't help yourself, she just looked so beautiful in the moonlight, her eyes reflecting the stars when she spoke about them. 

Jesus, you missed this so much, missed spending time with them, listening to them talking about their interests, or struggles, or just talking about everything and nothing at the same time. Watching their eyes sparkle with excitement when they pointed at a constellation, giggling sweetly when you tried to guess its name and was wrong. 

“Nooo, I told you a million times that it’s not the little bear! Wow, you’re such a great listener.” 

You scoffed, finding their playful frustration with you just adorable. “Awh, I’m so sorry sweetie, I’m always so focused on looking at you it slips my mind to listen too.” You moved closer to them, wanting to kiss their cheek, but before you could do that they sat up and pointed at the sky. 

“Ohmygodohmygod! Look! It’s the meteor shower!” 

You looked up at the sky, the view just breathtaking. You could see the sky light up with new lights, passing through it quickly and making a memorable effect. You felt like you were watching a performance, beautiful, engraved in your mind permanently. 

“Don’t just look at it! Make a wish.” Misaki shook you, tearing you away from your thoughts. You looked at them, their smile was all you needed to know what wish you wanted to make. 

I wish for this moment to last forever. 

I love you so much Misaki, I wish for more time to spend it all with you. 

I wish to spend every valentine’s day with you. 

For eternity. 

“I love you sweetheart.” You whispered to them, the words only meant to be heard by them. 

“I love you too, Y/n.” They replied, kissing you before you could say anything more. 

Let’s be together forever. 

My sweetest Y/n. 

Happy Valentine's day my lovely readers <3

[lovinglokilaufeyson]

The Devil You Don't - A.A

Pairings: Spawn!Astarion x Fem!Reader (Mephistopheles Tiefling! Raphael’s Daughter)

Warnings: 18+, Abandonment by parent, Discussion on Loss of a Parent, BG3 Spoilers (set sometime in Act 2), Mutual Pining, Fluff, Angst, SMUT (P-in-V, Fingering), Past Trauma, Not Proofread

Wordcount: 1,971

Summary: You are Raphael’s daughter, who he disowned for her good nature. You are abducted from Baldur’s Gate and receive a tadpole in your head. You have bonded with Astarion, but you are not about to let him ask your father for help. As a reminder, Tav has just revealed to Astarion that she is Raphael’s daughter.

A/N: This is part 2 of “A Devil You Know” as was originally requested in my inbox for Raphael’s daughter reader, who comes off as naïve and innocent, despite a tragic past. If you haven’t read part one, and would like some more context to the story, please feel free to do so here.

Astarion stared in absolute disbelief as you revealed this information to him. “Darling, you can’t possibly be serious” Astarion attempted to brush off your declaration to him, but the glow of your eyes and the gritting of your teeth said otherwise. For the first time, Astarion was able to sense true, deep pain surging through you. It wasn’t something that he often saw coming from you. He had just been told some of the most heinous information in his life, and yet – here he was, more worried about you, presently. If he hadn’t known any better, you looked on the verge of transforming into a dangerous creature.

“Darling, I-” Astarion began to speak, moving closer towards you subtly. “Astarion, I get it. I understand if you don’t want me here anymore, I know I’m his daughter, but you have to know that he has completely and entirely disowned me. I am fairly convinced that the only reason he is following us around is to spite me, I don’t know.” You sputtered on, with Astarion cutting you off a moment later. “Hush, my love.” He was closer to you now, allowing him to place a finger against your lips so they would purse together and mute your words. “There are no explanations needed from you on this.” He released his finger, although you yearned for the fuel of his touch once again.

“It seems to me that my making a deal with Raphael would be the equivalent of you making a deal with Cazador, and darling, I could never let you do that. I’m not usually impressed by people, but you’re stronger than I gave you credit for.” He spoke, seemingly retracting his previous statements about your naivety. “I’m so sorry, my love.” The care in his heart had grown for you substantially within the last few moments. Astarion had judged you incorrectly upon first meeting. Yes, you were a ray of sunshine for him (although without destroying him) you were also that, but in spite of all of the struggles. He admired you for that, greatly.

Astarion lifted you with ease, carrying you to his tent. Although you initially thought that he wished to bed you this evening, his mind was far from that kind of intimacy. Astarion faced away from you on the bed roll, and you traced the vampiric scars that seemingly sealed his fate, while he asked you a variety of questions about your life, and a few about the ritual too. “How did you ever end up in his hands?”

“Well, it’s quite simple, really. My mother passed away, and Raphael was there, ready to take me with him. I know now that it was more than just a mere coincidence that he was there. He wanted to collect what was ‘his’ in order to render himself more powerful.”

“How did your mother die?”

“He killed her.” Astarion’s heartstrings were tugged instantaneously from the thought of you, a young girl, witnessing her mother’s death, before being scooped up by your devil father. “He wanted power and thought that his child would give him the potential for more.”

“So, why did he leave you at that orphanage? Abandon you like that…” Astarion pondered.

“Well, it’s quite simple really. I was too good for him. Too naïve, too inexperienced, too… happy. He didn’t like that I didn’t want to be evil. That I couldn’t be persuaded to be, either.” Astarion peered back at you, enjoying greatly the way that your hands played along his back. “You know, initially I didn’t like that about you either” he joked, teasingly.

“Correct, but you didn’t abandon me at an orphanage.”

“I think I underestimated you, my dear.”

“Perhaps you did, Astarion.”

You switched sides now, cuddling into Astarion’s chest as his arm was wrapped around your form, tracing swirls into your arm with his delicate fingertips. You used your free hand to trace along his chest in various motions. “This is nice.” Astarion spoke suddenly, before clamping his hand over his mouth in embarrassment, his bloodless cheeks turning as red as they possibly could.

“It is nice, Astarion. I agree.” You spoke in a reassuring tone. “However, I think perhaps you’re deflecting from your issue at hand.”

“Oh, the whole, imminent death via a ritual by my evil vampiric master Cazador, that will kill me and my brothers and sisters and grant him godhood? Haven’t thought about it. Darling, he is very powerful.” Astarion spoke, a hint of sadness in his voice.

“I believe in us, more than anything, Astarion. We have overcome great things. We can overcome terrible ones, too. Cazador included.” Your hopefulness on the subject did have some effect on him, but despite that, he still felt sadness from what he had learned. Astarion was merely a pawn to Cazador, but there was a distinct difference now that he had a tadpole lodged in his cranium. He was the missing piece to Cazador’s puzzle.

And you were the missing piece to his.

You slid around, no longer facing him, but he kept his presence known, snuggling up against your backside, his torso flush against your back as he held you closer than he had ever held another. Subtly, you pressed your bum against his pelvis, ever so slightly. “Darling, are you teasing me?”

“Always.” You muttered back, pressing the slightest bit harder. “You cheeky little-” were the only words he used to respond, before nearly instantly slipping your nightgown over your butt. “No underwear either, pet? I know it’s been a while, but you truly are desperate, aren’t you?” He teased, tutting after he spoke.

“Only for you” you answered, which seemed to make Astarion quiver slightly. Only for him? He hadn’t ever had someone that was “his” before. If he was honest, he became jealous when you would stay up late studying with Gale. You said that Gale helped you perform your spells at an advanced level, and that it was for improved accuracy. Typically, these sessions with Gale would come after some sort of catastrophic failure during battle, when you would wound one of your own or the spell would fizzle out soon after casting. He also helped you maintain your concentration spells by testing you.

But confirmation that you were his? He could barely handle it.

“For me?” He spoke, with relative disbelief.

“Of course” you responded, leaving a delicate peck on Astarion’s cheek. The subtle tingling sparked by his nerves left him in awe. You two had been intimate before, but never in such a way. Astarion felt himself becoming timid, especially as the words left his lips “please, let me make love to you.” A small part of him internally cringed, but the other was proud of himself. Astarion wasn’t one to beg, but he had never wanted anything more.

You turned from your previous position so that you could face him. You brought a hand up and through his delectable pale curls, gazing longingly into his crimson irises. “I would love nothing more” you pecked his lips again, letting them linger this time, validating his wishes with your own.

You pulled away and merely nodded, ushering him to move forward. Almost hesitantly, Astarion persistent forward. You leaned upwards in order to slide your nightgown over your shoulders and across the tent, landing on the other side of the bedroll that you shared. “You look delicious, my love.” Astarion remarked, taking in the full experience of your form. He hadn’t truly realized how beautiful you were until this moment. He was so dissociated with his previous sexual escapades with you that he didn’t take the time to admire what was really in front of him.

“Darling, my Gods…” he muttered out as he nearly brought himself to pounce on you, quickly removing his own garments, kissing you feverishly. He broke the kiss a few times to undress, but he kept his eyes on yours persistently. He was with you, and he felt safe. He was so grateful for you. And as far as he was concerned, Raphael needed to watch his back. Any attempts for contact, he would regret.

Astarion focused his attention back to you now, rather than the destruction of the very man who you shared genes with. Astarion felt himself stammering around slightly, anxious to feel you around him again. Somehow, he felt like it would be different this time. His clothes were now scattered atop yours; his hard member being revealed teasingly. “Please, Astarion.” You moaned out, begging for his entrance inside of your canal.

Although he could hardly wait to be inside of you once more, he was also eager to tease. He pressed his index finger against your heat, moving it inside of you gently. He brought his thumb to flick against your clit, and you writhed in pleasure from his actions. “Fuck-“ you groaned as he flicked your nub once more, as you became even wetter than before.

“Astarion, please get inside of me” you begged. With this, he pressured his index finger in you further, and you groaned in response, looking up at him with a subtle smirk on his face. “Your dick, please.”

Astarion removed his finger now, understanding your eagerness. He took his erect member in his hand, guiding it to your vagina. At first he merely prodded the entrance, swirling his tip around it teasingly. Then, he pressed it within, and you gasped “I forgot how big you are.”

“It seems that it’s been far too long, then, my love.” With these words, he slid further in, until his tip reached the end of your canal, osculating your cervix. To this, you mewled from the pleasure. He made a similar groan in from the pleasure, as he felt your passage tighten around him. You took a breath, before he pulled out and pressed inwards again. He brought a finger downwards to play with your clitoris, hoping to provide more pleasure.

“Gods,” you pled once more, and Astarion began pumping in and out of you further, deeper, and faster than before as he felt his own climax building. You squeezed around him tightly, and he gazed down at your bouncing bosom before lifting his head upwards as his eyes rolled to the back of his head with ease from the sensation. He stared back down at you, watching as you panted, but looked back up at him with so much love and adoration in your eyes.

“How close are you, my sweet?” He pondered, and you frantically nodded back at him “so so close.”

“Me too, my love. Cum with me.” Astarion pumped in and out for a few more rounds, before the warm fluid coated your canal, with you squeezing around him, shaking, your own climax approaching steadily.

You writhed with pleasure as Astarion played with your bud still, the feeling of his juices flowing inside of you driving you over the edge. Your lips were soon met with Astarion’s, and you felt your heart flutter as he released, speaking those three little words, everyone’s favorite: “I love you.”

But he truly did mean it. He had never made love to someone before, nor feel so much for another. With you, he did. You felt the same as he did, so you repeated them back to him, “I love you, Astarion.” His name in your voice, following those words? He could’ve sworn he was starving all of his life before he met you. Like he had not truly lived.

You laid down in each other’s arms as you were before, left with slightly more marks from one another than you had previously. He brought another kiss to your lips, and you spoke after releasing “you just can’t keep your hands off of me, can you?”

“Never, my love. Not when you’re you, darling.”

[racefortheironthrone]

What did you think of X-Men Blue Origins?

(I may turn this into a People's History of the Marvel Universe later today, so keep an eye on this space.)

X-Men Blue: Origins and the Power of the Additive Retcon

(WARNING: heavy spoilers under the cut)

Introduction

If you've been a long-time X-Men reader, or you're a listener of Jay & Miles or Cerebrocast or any number of other LGBT+ X-Men podcasts, you probably know the story about how Chris Claremont wrote Mystique and Destiny as a lesbian couple, but had to use obscure verbiage and subtextual coding to get past Jim Shooter's blanket ban on LGBT+ characters in the Marvel Universe.

Likewise, you're probably also familiar with the story that, when Chris Claremont came up with the idea that Raven Darkholme and Kurt Wagner were related (a plot point set up all the way back in Uncanny X-Men #142), he intended that Mystique was Nightcrawler's father, having used her shapeshifting powers to take on a male body and impregnate (her one true love) Irene. This would have moved far beyond subtext - but it proved to be a bridge too far for Marvel editorial, and Claremont was never able to get it past S&P.

This lacuna in the backstories of Kurt and Raven - who was Kurt's father? - would remain one of the enduring mysteries of the X-Men mythos...and if there's one thing that comic writers like, it's filling in these gaps with a retcon.

Enter the Draco

Before I get into the most infamous story in all of X-Men history, I want to talk about retcons a bit. As I've written before:

"As long as there have been comic books, there have been retcons. For all that they have acquired a bad reputation, retcons can be an incredibly useful tool in comics writing and shouldn’t be dismissed out of hand. Done right, retcons can add an enormous amount of depth and breadth to a character, making their worlds far richer than they were before. Instead, I would argue that retcons should be judged on the basis of whether they’re additive (bringing something new to the character by showing us a previously unknown aspect of their lives we never knew existed before) or subtractive (taking away something from the character that had previously been an important part of their identity), and how well those changes suit the character."

For a good example of an additive retcon, I would point to Chris Claremont re-writing Magneto's entire personality by revealing that he was a Jewish survivor of the Holocaust. As I have argued at some length, this transformed Magneto from a Doctor Doom knockoff into a complex and sympathetic character who could now work as a villain, anti-villain, anti-hero, or hero depending on the needs of the story.

For a good example of a subtractive retcon, I would point to...the Draco. If you're not familiar with this story, the TLDR is that it was revealed that Kurt's father was Azazel - an evil ancient mutant with the same powers and the same appearance (albeit color-shifted) as Kurt, who claims to be the devil and is part of a tribe of demonic-looking mutants who were banished to the Brimstone Dimension, and who fathered Nightcrawler as part of a plot to end this banishment.

I don't want to belabor Chuck Austen, because I think that Connor Goldsmith is right about his run actually being a camp cult classic in retrospect. However, I think we both agree that the Draco was a misfire, because of how the retcon undermined Kurt's entire thematic purpose as established in Giant-Size X-Men that Nightcrawler was actually a noble and arguably saintly man who suffered from unjust prejudice due to the random accident that his mutation made him appear to be a demon, and because of how the retcon undermined the centrality of Mystique and Destiny's relationship.

X-Men Blue Origins

This brings us to the Krakoan era. In HOXPOX and X-Men and Inferno, Jonathan Hickman had made Mystique and Destiny a crucial part of the story in a way that they hadn't been in decades: they were the great nemeses of Moira X, they were the force that threatened to burn Krakoa to the ground by revealing the devil's bargain that Xavier had struck with Sinister (and Moira), they were the lens through which the potential futures of Krakoa were explored, and they ultimately reshaped the Quiet Council and the Five in incredibly consequential ways.

This throughline was furthered after Hickman's departure, with Kieron Gillen exploring the backstories of Mystique and Destiny in Immortal X-Men and Sins of Sinister, and both Gillen and Si Spurrier exploring their relationship with Nightcrawler in AXE Judgement Day, Sins of Sinister, Way of X, Legion of X, Nightcrawlers, and Sons of X. One of the threads that wove through the interconnected fabric of these books was an increasing closeness between Kurt and Irene that needed an explanation. Many long-time readers began to anticipate that a retcon about Kurt's parentage was coming - and then we got X-Men Blue: Origins.

In this one issue, Si Spurrier had the difficult assignment of figuring out a way to "fix" the Draco and restore Claremont's intended backstory in a way that was surgical and elegant, that served the character arcs of Kurt, Raven, and Irene, and that dealt with complicated issues of trans and nonbinary representation, lesbian representation, disability representation, and the protean nature of the mutant metaphor. Thanks to help from Charlie Jane Anders and Steve Foxe, I think Spurrier succeeded tremendously.

I don't want to go through the issue beat-by-beat, because you should all read it, but the major retcon is that Mystique turns out to be a near-Omega level shapeshifter, who can rewrite themselves on a molecular level. Raven transformed into a male body and impregnated Irene, using bits of Azazel and many other men's DNA as her "pigments." In addition to being a deeply felt desire on both their parts to have a family together, this was part of Irene's plan to save them both (and the entire world) from Azazel's schemes, a plan that required them to abandon Kurt as a scapegoat-savior (a la Robert Graves' King Jesus), and to have Xavier wipe both their memories.

Now, I'm not the right person to write about what this story means on a representational level; I'll leave it to my LGBT+ colleagues on the Cerebrocast discord and elsewhere to discuss the personal resonances the story had for them.

What I will say, however, is that I thought this issue threaded the needle of all of these competing imperatives very deftly. It "fixed" the Draco without completely negating it, it really deepened and complicated the characters and relationships of both Raven and Irene (by showing that, in a lot of ways, Destiny is the more ruthless and manipulative of the two), and it honored Kurt's core identity as a man of hope and compassion (even if it did put him in a rather thankless ingénue role for much of the book).

It is the very acme of an additive retcon; nothing was lost, everything was gained.

I still think the baby Nightcrawler is just a bad bit, but then again I don't really vibe with Spurrier's comedic stylings.

[thedreamlessnights]

Give The Devil His Due - pt. 1

Gale x F!Reader

{part 2}

Warnings and Tags: Major BG3 Ending and Epilogue Spoilers. Mentions of death, the use of the Netherese orb, grieving/loss. Deal with a Devil. Angst with a happy ending.

Synopsis: After Gale sacrifices himself to save Faerûn, his soul resides in a place out of reach of mortal magic. Not out of reach of immortal magic, though.

Word Count: 2.8k

It’s not like you to linger at the edge of a party, and - gods. Especially not one like this.

In every respect, this night should be fantastic. Friends are all around, there's wine and lively music, and you’re the closest thing to happy that you’ve been in the last six months.

Yet here you are, hovering on the sidelines, feeling like there’s a hole cut into your chest. No, this isn’t much like you, but you haven’t truly been yourself since the day you lost Gale.

He should be here, you keep thinking. He should be at your side, making awful puns, looking handsome as ever. Missing him is a constant, now, but the pain has flared into agony tonight. It feels like it’s splitting you in two. You can barely stomach the wine.

You’ve done your dues, of course. Greeted your companions, hugged your fair share, and talked briefly about life. Still, the pity in everyone’s eyes had felt like salt in your very open wound, and now you don’t trust yourself to make conversation without crying.

Which leaves you to wander around with your wine, trying not to feel like every bit of this familiar camp is a dagger between your ribs. Judging by the way you can’t seem to breathe, it doesn’t seem to be working.

And then, mid-sip of wine, you look up and there he is. Gale of Waterdeep, with Tara at his side.

You’re no stranger to these hallucinations; you’ve experienced them nearly every day since his sacrifice. A flash of Gale in the crowds, a hint of his face in strangers, the ghostly feeling of him pressed against you on the coldest nights.

But those had been different. In your previous sightings, he’d vanished just as soon as he’d appeared. This Gale is here, standing off to the side of Withers’ party, flickering with magic. No matter how many times you shut your eyes, he’s still there when you open them again.

It isn’t him. You know it isn’t. You’ve seen his magical projections before. Still, Gale must have made this. And, aside from the glowing eyes and outline, it’s a dead-on replication of him. Having one of his creations so near, so very like him, is enough of Gale’s presence to make your knees feel weak.

When you approach, the form speaks. You barely hear it. Your hands are shaking so badly that your wine sloshes out of the glass and onto your clothing. You finally let it fall, not sparing as much as a glance toward it, even when you feel it splash against your boots.

Gale, or this image of him, is your sole focus. Everything else, stains included, is irrelevant.

“I am a magical projection of Gale of Waterdeep,” the false Gale is saying. It takes a moment for you to process the distorted tone, the muffled voice you remember so very well.

A projection. Just as you’d known.

“If you see this manifestation,” he continues, “that means I have prematurely perished.”

You know this spiel, too. You’d seen it after a terrible moment where Gale had died post-ambush in the Shadowlands. It had given a complicated set of instructions to revive him. You’d know this speech in your sleep.

The next words are different from the usual, though.

“Alas, on this occasion, I appear to have been erased from this plane in both soul and substance, so the usual protocol for revivification cannot be followed.”

Something twists internally. Painful. Sharp. Not that you’d had any hope, but… hearing it is like this so much worse. You swallow hard, suddenly wishing you hadn’t dropped your wine, but the damned thing is still talking.

“I am, however,” the projection continues, “available for the duration of this spell to assist with the tying of any loose ends related to my recent departure from mortality.”

Those words feel like a harsh kick to the ribs. Gale is dead, and what he’d left behind is insurmountable grief, not loose ends. The weight in your chest is loss, not something that can be mended by a quick word or brief spell.

And yet, your mouth moves of its own accord. “Revivification?” you find yourself asking. Anything to hear more of his voice, even marred as it is.

“Indeed,” he replies. “A series of elegantly designed failsafes to be executed in order to reverse the occurrence of my unexpected but impermanent demise.”

The mild taste in your mind sours. Gale’s death had been unexpected, yes. But not impermanent. You know that. Still, you nod as he further explains, clinging on to every trace, every syllable, every detail of him.

He goes on: “As I am unable to detect any trace of my existence in reach of mortal magic, however, such a protocol would in this instance be destined to fail.”

But of course. Mortal magic. Surely Mystra could bring him back if she wanted to, but his death is far too convenient for her, isn't it? To have Gale out of her mind, no longer nagging her?

You can't think of a single thing to say in response that isn't plain cruel.

The projection pauses at your silence, then proceeds on. “The good news is, I am here precisely to assist in cushioning that heaviest of blows.”

You fail to bite back a laugh hearing that. It spills from your lips like tar, dark and sticky; the sound is pained, but it bubbles up through your chest all the same. It’s so like Gale, to think he’s worth so little that a mere projection could somehow aid in his loss.

The next thing the projection says, however, renders you completely and utterly speechless.

“I have been entrusted with the delivery of a letter to be read by the one who loved me most,” he announces. “I hope these words do something to ease the tragedy of my untimely and honestly quite unexpected passing.”

Gods, you think. A letter. Had Gale left something behind that you’d missed? Had he set this up in advance, knowing this might be the outcome?

The projection conjures up a pouch very similar to the one you’d seen when you’d had to revive him all that time ago, and it gently floats over to you until it’s within reach.

The moment it meets your hands, you can swear that a shiver of magic runs through your fingers. Sharp tingling, the scent of rosewater, a flash of Gale’s smile in your mind’s eye.

How could you ever have let him go? How could you, despite his insistence, have let him sacrifice himself that way? Even more than loss, you feel self-hatred. You feel regret, anger, despair.

Gale is gone. All that's left of him is the objects he’d left behind. They’re nothing at all in comparison to him.

“With that,” the projection says, interrupting your thoughts, “I’m afraid my spell is waning. Is there anything else you need of me, before I blink out of existence?”

Yes, you think. Yes, don’t go, stay here with me - even if you aren't him.

And like a complete fool, your treacherous body reaches out to this projection of him, false as he is, and tries to kiss him.

Your lips meet nothing but air. Nothing but that same shiver of magic you’d felt when touching the pouch, so undeniably Gale.

The projection stares at you for a moment, something like sadness in his eyes, and steps just the slightest bit closer. “I can see why I loved you,” he says.

With a burst of light, the projection fades into nothing but the flickering remnants of magic, shimmering in the air like stars in the deep velvet sky.

The immediate, immense grief that possesses you brings you to your knees.

After the night with the projection, two words stay with you.

Mortal magic.

Gale is beyond the reach of mortal magic. But the projection hadn't said anything about magic beyond mortal reach.

So, you do what Gale had done best: you research.

Your grief turns obsessive. You toss and turn through the nights, unable to sleep. You’ve been staying in Gale’s tower in Waterdeep, but the echoes of his presence prove too much, and you soon find a place nearby - close enough to visit when you’d like, but distanced enough to remove yourself when you need.

There’s only so many times you can listen to Morena crying for her son before it feels like it’s suffocating you.

When you finally find what you’ve been looking for - after blood and sweat and tears, bargaining, crying, pages and pages of research, and countless sleepless nights - it almost doesn't feel real.

But there’s a summoning scroll that’s warm in your hands, and it’s real enough that when you open it and read the words, the scent of cinnamon and honey fills the room. Within seconds, a familiar figure is materializing before you.

Tall. Smug. Wreathed in hellfire that slowly fades away.

“My, my,” he purrs, his gaze trailing over you from head to toe. “The Savior of Baldur’s Gate, calling my name. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

Your eyes narrow. “We both know that it wasn't me who saved the city, Raphael.”

The crown’s power is so potent that you can almost see it: a flickering aura around him, present even in the curve of his cutting smile. It’s true, then. He’d fished the Netherstones out of the river and recrafted it. If Gale had been the one to wear it…

“Perhaps,” Raphael replies. “But seeing as you currently hold the title, I thought it appropriate.”

You’ve been planning this out for weeks now, but your planned speech turns to ash in your mind. “I want him back,” you say instead.

“Him?” Raphael repeats, perching his hand under his chin. “I’m afraid you’ll have to be a touch more specific-”

“Gale,” you cut in. You’re in no mood for his games. “I want Gale back. Alive.”

Poorly-masked delight crosses over the devil’s features. You doubt he’s really trying to hide it, though. “And what could you possibly offer me that I don't already possess?”

“My soul.”

Your voice shakes a little as you say it, betraying you, but you’re more sure about this than anything else. No one will miss you like Gale is missed. You have no family left behind to mourn you, no tower full of unfinished research, no tressym to ache for the warmth of your lap.

Whatever the cost, you want Gale back. With the crown, Raphael has the power to do that.

But he simply tilts his head back and laughs. “I’m afraid I’ve… outgrown those kind of deals,” he says.

A small shard of fear slices through your gut. You hadn't considered anything else, but what could you give him that’s any worse than your soul?

You fold your arms across your chest and hold his gaze, ignoring the way your eyes desperately yearn to flit away. “What do you want, then?”

“Now that is the question,” Raphael muses, holding up a hand and giving it a loose twirl. “I’ve always had a fondness for humans. Such spirit; such devotion! You’re hailed as the hero of the city, yet here you are - offering me your soul. All in exchange for someone who, if I’m not mistaken, chose to sacrifice himself.”

Red-hot anger flares in your chest. There are a thousand things you could say, but you force yourself to swallow them down. You only have one chance at this.

“Yes,” you reply softly. “The someone who made it possible for you to retrieve the Crown of Karsus.”

“True,” Raphael admits, lifting a brow. “His sacrifice was useful, I suppose.”

You wait for him to go on, but he doesn't. Instead, he sits and watches you the way a lion watches its prey. Patient. Tense. Waiting for its reward.

“Raphael-”

“I’ll... consider what you’ve said,” he interrupts, straightening up and flashing you a smile. “Until then, I suggest sitting tight. What a waste it would be for the hero of Baldur’s Gate to waste away in grief, hm?”

He snaps his fingers, and as soon as the sound has hit your ears, he's dissolving into a burst of flame. You’re left with nothing.

You’ve been left with that more often than not, lately.

What would a devil want if not a soul?

It's the question you keep pondering time and time again. Raphael had laughed at your offer, but he hadn't turned you down flat. He’d said he would consider your proposition.

You aren't even sure what it is you'd proposed.

That he bring Gale back simply because his death had allowed Raphael to access the crown? That he do you some form of favor because of his admiration for humans?

You know enough of devils to know there is always a cost, but what exactly is it? What greater offering is there than a soul?

It’s the thought that keeps you up at night as the months roll by, plagued by insomnia. What could he possibly want from you that would prove more valuable? All you can do is wait for Raphael’s return, but the waiting is agony. Whatever his response, he’s in no hurry to give it. And in the meantime, you’re still forced to live without Gale.

The one year anniversary of the city being saved is a celebration for most. For you, it marks one year from the worst day of your life. That scene still plagues you most nights. Gale, insisting he sacrifice himself. Teleporting you and the others to safety. A flash of light. The tadpole, disintegrating in your brain.

And the worst part: the emptiness afterward. Knowing he was gone. No joy. No relief. Just numbness. A neverending loss.

The days afterward were a blur. Finding his pack. Gathering his things. Giving Tara and Morena the news.

You hadn't had the strength to look at his possessions for months, and when you had, your findings had made it so much worse.

A small ring, fitted for your finger. A note, written with clumsy handwriting. Addendums scrawled on the sidelines. Phrases scribbled out, and rewritten. A rehearsal for a marriage proposal he’d never gotten to give.

Gods, the loss you’d felt. The self-hatred.

It’s unbearable. It's what you keep thinking to yourself - that all of this is so unbearable.

It’s even what you’re thinking in the middle of the library in Gale’s tower, Morena at your side and Tara at your feet, mourning your losses. The three of you are so caught up in grief that you nearly miss the swirling oval of purple light that appears in the middle of the room.

It’s unbearable. And then, as your eyes lock onto the portal, it’s suddenly not.

Purple light begins to swirl through the room. Your limbs go cold. From head to toe, electricity seems to course through you - soaking into skin, into veins, almost painful. Even before anything happens, you simply know that something is either incredibly right or incredibly wrong.

Then Gale Dekarios stumbles out of the portal as if shoved, gasping for air, his hand placed over his chest, and the room goes silent.

Your heart starts racing so fast, you’re half sure it’s going to explode. Tara lets out a yowl that could rupture an eardrum. Morena freezes in place, practically a statue, not seeming to believe what she’s seeing.

Gale is here, and alive, and seemingly unharmed.

He’s dressed in his classic purple wizard robes. His earring is in place, as always. Beautiful grey streaks in dark hair. Warm brown eyes. Almost exactly the same as he’d looked when you’d first met him.

The only thing missing is the orb in his chest.

Your body moves automatically. Your hands reach for his face and find warm skin - real Gale, your Gale - and your mouth meets his the way you’ve longed for the last year.

Against your lips, Gale lets out a soft sound of surprise. You’re so happy to see him, to touch him, that you have to fight off the urge to melt into his arms. But as soon as you’ve pulled away, you know something is wrong.

His brows are pinched together in confusion. He’s not pulling you close. And, as you stare up at him, he lets out a shaky breath. Perplexion, not relief. Not desire. Not love.

You take a small step back.

“Mr. Dekarios, surely you can do better than that,” Tara chides, perching herself on a table beside him.

“Tara?” he breathes, glancing at her. His eyes turn back to you, and it’s like your lungs won’t quite get air. “I, er - forgive me,” he starts. “Do we… know each other?”

And all at once, as your heart tears into a thousand tiny pieces, you know Raphael’s cost.