#the way embrace could kill him so easily... the fragility of the human body or some shit

[the-bloodline-embrace]

"...at least you have some will to live."

( @yellow-rose-embalmer )

Aesop arrives, holding himself upright as ever, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath before properly approaching. "...I think enough time has passed." He decides not to mention that it has only been a few days since the last meeting. He also chooses to ignore that he did not fully understand the instructions he was given, to wait until he'd cleared his head somewhat. What he did do, was hand over a letter, carefully folded and sealed, handwriting clearly measured, as if the words were considered before writing them down. "I believe something with as much weight as what you had given me previously warrants a proper response... take as long as you need." Once the paper is taken, Aesop folds his hands in front of him and waits.

[Eternity is a long time to wait, I more than know that. Even if I have not existed within it, it is what I have learned to deal with. I will not pretend to know your situation, I will not pretend I do not wish for you to finally rest, but... not looking for allies, yet not wanting to be alone. It is hard for me to separate friends and allies, but... I suppose someone outside of everything you have would be pleasant.

I have learned of many belief systems, but... I personally struggle to see luck as much of a factor. We have much in common, yes, but... who is to say that is entirely good? I had to pause when you described me as 'disillusioned', but... it makes sense. Regrettably. Perhaps I thought that with how little I had known you and how I had been expected to act around those of your status, everything could be taken away easily. I was also too eager to receive the title of 'friend', with how little I had heard it, even if I knew nothing of what lay within.

I do not know if my head is as clear as you would like, but... I do not wish to make you wait forever. You said eternity is too long to spend alone, after all.]

[lustlovehart]

Warnings: Human eating, Blood, Hints of Possesion (Jealousy) and Possesion, They ask you on a date towards the end, and you accept??????

Your gaze swiftly locks onto the bodies that float aimlessly in the water, not a sign of life in either vessel. You’re so entranced by the sight you don’t feel the clawed hand that hooks under your legs, slowly carrying you into the crimson water. Even when another pair of hands gently soothes your shoulder, you don’t speak, not even breathe.

“Heyy, Helloo?” Floyd waves his webbed fingers in front of your face, a pout accessorizing his features as if he didn’t just leave the have eaten body of a sailor in the water. “Look at me, not that guy… Man, I shoulda eaten his face first…” His voice has a certain whine a jealous boyfriend would have, not a monster of the sea. You continue to not reply to his whims, only letting the giant beast rest his head on your shoulders.

“Be patient Floyd, death is a distraughting sight for humans.” Jades voice is deep, his hands tracing over your wet clothes as he massages any place of tension that could be in your limbs. You would’ve relaxed if it weren’t of the way the corpse slowly floats towards you, only stopping when Jades spiked tail quickly whips it away. “Do not worry, you’re not apart of our diet. No never.” his words are meant to be comforting, buy they come off more condescending if anything.

You look away in the sliver of conscience you have, hesitantly resting your hand on Jades and laying your head on Floyds.

“Is Shrimpy done gawking at those guys? They’re not all that good looking… Me and Jade are better, riight~?” you don’t speak, but you nod in a confused agreement. It’s not a clear “yes” but it’s enough to make Floyd jump from his position, hugging you in a tight embrace and rubbing his skinned cheek to yours. “Good, it’d be bad if yah liked those plankton more than us.” Floyd's tail slowly wraps around your legs, your support from falling into the ocean being taken away from you. The only reason you’re not drowning in the moment is due to Floyd and Jade holding you up with their hands.

“That would be unfortunate wouldn’t it?” Jade flips the hand you had splayed on his clawed limb, intertwining his fingers with yours, the tenderness of a lover evident in the way he tightens his grasp. It’s distraughting just how gentle they are, treating you as if you’ve been with them for years. But, you haven’t.

You peak your eye open at the corpse one more time, but it’s gone. Slowly, you wrap your arms around Floyd, allowing their quiet chuckles to envelop you.

“Shall we treat you like a pearl today?” Jade swims around you and Floyd, allowing you to see him and all his glory, the moon swallowing the two of them like their angels, rather than the monsters of the night you’ve been tasked to kill. You open your mouth to reply, taking back the action with a nod of your undecided head.

“Aww don’t worry, we’ll treat you real nice tonight.”

You know they will. It just makes you feel all the more guilty to those who don't get your treatment.

Key differences/traits:

- Floyd has a more defensive structure with his bones, the hard armor carving around his tail and wrapping around his chest, better protecting his heart. Don’t be deceived though, he still is very capable in offense, but instead of quickly slashing his prey, he simply slams his body or heavily constricts them with the bone.

- Jade has an offensive build, the bones on his tail poking out more than his brothers, to easily slash and puncture prey. With it though, his heart I smuch more vulnerable to attacks without the protection his brother has. This does not deter him though, it just fuels his strategic play much more, impaling his food without them even realizing until they’re in his jaws.

- The exposed bone on their arm seems to be fragile, but it’s quite the opposite, it’s extremely durable and has the capability of being used as a weapon. It’s especially useful when they’re in their smaller form and not their true form, as they can make larger spike of bone emerge, using the limb as a desperation weapon if their tail doesn’t work. (They do it often though even when they don’t need to because they find it fun.)

- Floyd hugs you much more as he doesn’t have the attacking structure Jade has, so he doesn’t run the risk of stabbing you on accident more frequently. This status though, does leave a very depressed and jealous Jade watching from the corner at the lack of physical contact he has with you. Depending on who you are, this could be a blessing! If not, lay a few kisses on his cheek (or maybe his lips huhu) in secret, and he’ll be much happier in the following days. Just...

Don’t let Floyd or Azul know. They’ll make sure you give them the same treatment as well >:(

[baeddel]

uzumaki spoilers [again, read Uzumaki first]

i think we are licensed to say that Ito was influenced by Lovecraft when making Uzumaki. he has described Lovecraft as an influence himself, and he makes a comedic reference to the Mountains of Madness in one of the self-insert skits. the infohazard theme that was important in Lovecraft is an important theme in Uzumaki. but it’s interesting to see how they differ. Lovecraft was worried about humanity; the limits of human rationality, the development of the human species, and the fragility of human civilization. for Lovecraft only white men have access to rationality, so only white men can understand the horrors that lesser men bring into existence; this is alluded to in Pickman’s Model (“I’ve got a place that I don’t believe three living Nordic men besides myself have ever seen...”), and is implicit in stories like the Mound. Lovecraft’s protagonists are white American academics, scientists and artists who use their superior reason to uncover the horrible truths of the universe which humanity had until now been too primitive to witness. when they do reach beyond the veil they go mad, catatonic, chittering, or else kill themselves. lesser men mistake what they see for gods and make cults to them with obscene practices, or else degenerate into subhumans.

when Ligotti takes up the same things he uses similar characters and similar devices but with new coordinates. his refernces are not racial scientism and theosophy but structural anthropology and German idealism. the horrible wisdom of the world was not out of reach of Ligotti’s humanity but inescapably evident to it; all of our discourses and social institutions are ruses and devices through which we can hide from it. his protagonists uncover the truth because they are curious, knowledge-hungry fools. impulsively following the intellectual riddles that preoccupy them they disturb things that were better left alone. if they leave with their lives then they find their own way to avert their gaze and put the truth away.

in Uzumaki i think the relevant comparison is shūyō, self-cultivation. virtually every strain of East Asian discourse (religious, philosophical, etc.) has some version of this. what it means to cultivate yourself varies according to tradition but you should have the idea from the name. it’s about developing one’s learning, one’s habits and morals, or one’s te, inner power. everything from Buddhist meditation to martial arts to alchemy to keeping a rock garden is built on a theory of self-cultivation. while self-cultivation isn’t uncommon, there is an expectation that a very cultivated person will be strange (especially outside of Confucianism). sages are different from ordinary people; people can’t understand them, they have a different sense of right and wrong from other people, etc.

the first character in Uzumaki who has any idea about the spiral horror is Suichi’s father. he has renounced everything and devoted himself to the spiral; he spends all of his money on spiral merchandise and sits in his room staring at them. he learns, just by looking at the spirals, how to work miracles; he can move his eyes independently, extend his tongue unnaturally and curl it up, and finally extends and twists up his whole body into a spiral. he achieves a sort of twisted immortality in the spiral. you can easily read this as a dark paroday of self-cultivation; he is a middle-aged man who gets taken by fanciful ideas and spends a lot of money on it. it could as easily be green tea or anything else. his contortions are like a sort of evil tai chi.

Suichi is the second character who knows about the spiral horror. he knows, perhaps, more than his father; he knows how terrible it is. he withdraws from the world, sits alone in his home and does not eat. he rejects whoever comes to him except his lover-disciple; he teaches her how to avoid the spiral, though she cannot learn from him. he is one who has “drowned in the midst of dry land.”

Suichi’s father introduces Yasuo, Kirie’s father, to the spiral horror. he calls pottery “the art of the spiral,” a phrase Kirie’s father repeats for the rest of the manga. he turns his pottery into a form of spiral-cultivation. yet unlike Suichi’s father he doesn’t kill himself doing so. he listens when his family express their troubles and he goes on working on it quietly; he functions well even in the finale when everyone else is losing their minds.

when we get to the bottom of Dragonfly Pond we collect the fruit of cultivation. correct me if i’m wrong but i don’t think we see Suichi’s father in the underground structure at all. he remains in Kurôzu-cho, in the mud, the trees and smoke. Yasuo joins the tangle of bodies and is petrified next to his wife. Suichi basks in the light of the spiral without being petrified; he embraces Kirie and they become a spiral together in a happy infinity.

Uzumaki contains something of a self-cultivation manual. it shows us three sages, but also three lovers, and their different routes to immortality and also love. Suichi’s father cultivates himself excessively; he achieves a restless immortality within a few days but he never learns the truth of the spiral. as a lover he neglects his partner, and then calls to her from hell. he drives her insane and then condemns her to share his fate, all the while she begs him to stop. i don’t know about a Japanese parallel but in the Daoist system you would say that he shattered his shen and lost his vitality. Yasuo cultivated himself slowly, doing a little bit every so often by gathering the clay and firing it. he listened to his wife’s concerns and moderated his practices. he and his lover were petrified by the light of the spiral below Dragonfly Pond. as he lived a normal life, he met the same fate as the townsfolk. now Suichi: where common people are mesmerized by the spiral, and the other sages sought to harness it, Suichi rejected it. he withdrew from society into a reticent life of skeptical contemplation. he advised and mentored his lover so he could protect her from the spiral horror. thus he united with his lover and became immortal with her. it was because he rejected the spiral that he found a peaceful immortality in it.

interestingly we already find a lot of what we like about Bloodborne’s use of Lovecraft in Uzumaki. whereas in Bloodborne the Cthulu cult and its horrors are carried out not by primitives but by the Church, the hospital, and the repressive organs of the state, in Uzumaki it’s done by fathers, teachers, doctors and so on. whereas in Bloodborne it takes the form not of shamanistic religion but revealed faith and academic science, in Uzumaki it takes the form of self-cultivation. and in Bloodborne we also find a sort of practical-philosophical manual which stands along with the best tetsugaku, with its own failed sages (Micolash’s delerium, Rom’s ignorance) and ultimate successes (the Hunter in the third ending).

[pomegranates-and-blood]

Not You (500 Celebration)

500 Celebration Masterlist

Pairing: Ivar/Reader

Prompt: From the Quotes category: “You are shaking fists and trembling teeth. I know: you did not mean to be cruel. That does not mean you were kind.”  

Word Count: 2.3k

Warnings: Ivar (he is a warning, idk what to tell u). Angst. Graphic descriptions of violence. Blood. Death. My shitty writing.

A/N: I’m slowly getting back to writing, I’ll try to get to the requests and challenge entries soon. I am so so sorry for being so slow lately. Thank you for being patient, and for your support!

Also, this isn’t very good (I was in between two paths to take with this, and fitting the quote into it was tricky lol) so I apologize in advance, I just really need to push forward w/writing, so you’ll have to bear with me with some shittier than usual stuff for a while lol. Love ya!

There’s something you have learned a while ago, long ago enough that you cannot recall when it was that the realization dawned on you.

You’ve learned there are countless different ways Ivar tells you he loves you.

He tells you quietly, a whisper against your lips, as he prepares to leave for the spring, as he leaves behind your home to lands unexplored, as he leaves your embraces for battles to fight. You savor those times with the bittersweetness of goodbye, with the promise of yet another reunion; and each time he promises one last I love you, barely audible over the winds of the coast, you taste the salt of the sea on your lips and save your words, the silent order to return to you if he wishes to hear it back. He always does.

He tells you fervently, words stumbling over one another, as you make each promise he asks of you, as you promise to be by his side for as long as the Gods let you, as you promise to become his wife before the Gods and any who may be present. You can almost hear the same promise of his own being made as he repeats those three words; and each time he vows his love in between starved and frantic kisses broken by words and too-wide smiles, you still the fervor with but a touch as you always did, promising the same love with the lowest of voices, hoping he can hear. He always does.

He tells you hoarsely, a litany accompanied by your name as his voice gives out, as your hands and lips trace over every inch you wish to and remind him of what hunger feels like, as you put him at your mercy and remind him of what being yours feels like. You feel power running through your veins like lightning with each of those prayers in the shape of your name, in the cadence of an I love you; and with each breathed truth and each jagged moan that speaks without words what you already know, you press yourself as close as you can to him, and promise the same with reverent kisses over fever-warm skin, with sighs of his name, with the certainty he can understand, can see it in your eyes, how much you love him. He always does.

He tells you hesitantly, with the sudden fear of who jumps not really certain there will be a safe spot to land on, as a years-old certainty is dragged to the front of his mind and happiness is nothing is a truth more than your love for him could ever be, as the self-loathing that still surprises and catches you off guard makes itself known in his voice and in the blue of his eyes. You always feel your heart break a bit more at each of those times, at each admission that love like this after a lifetime of pain can only mean that it will leave -and you hear the words he doesn’t say, you will leave- and bring forth agony when it does; yet you still promise your love and pray he believes you. He always does.

There are countless different ways he tells you he loves you.

The door to your rooms opens, and your hands clench into fists in the rose-colored water you were washing them on. You don’t turn around, but the familiar sound of Ivar’s steps stopping a fair distance away from you tells you that he knows you are aware of his presence.

You refuse to look at him until you can get the blood of your hands, though. For a moment you are afraid you never will be able to wash off the stain.

Emir’s words, accusing, biting, true, “You look at a monster like him and you choose to love him, at all the monstrous things he does and you choose to love him despite them. You are worse than he is.”

With the dark eyes of the man you were once married to set on you, you didn’t feel anything other than anger, than the familiar ire and drive to defend the man you love. And even now, with the evidence of the monstrous things the man you love does still staining your hands, you don’t feel any regret, any shame.

You shake the water off your hands, and the instinctual movement to dry them haphazardly on the front of your dress is jarringly stopped when you notice the blood still staining the sleeves of it. You grab a linen instead, and count your breaths before you turn around.

Ivar is sitting near the door, head turned to the side as he watches his thumb run over and over, almost compulsively, over a ridge on the top of his crutch. You linger for a few breaths watching him, the uncharacteristic nervousness of the man that killed without second thought and would again, the jarring humanity of someone capable of such cruel things, and the truth behind Emir’s words doesn’t bother you at all.

Ivar takes a breath, but doesn’t look at you, still following with his eyes the repetitive movement of his hand, when he says, “I love you.”

There are countless different ways he tells you he loves you, and now, now it sounds like an apology, like an apology and something else, something more fragile. Like a request, like a plea, but you don’t know what for.

Taking a deep breath, you step forward.

Big eyes look up at you as you approach, but he doesn’t move, he doesn’t say anything else. Heart heavy, you have to curl your hand into a fist to keep traitorous fingers from falling into the temptation of tracing the slight furrow of his brow, of soothing the lines of worry you see etched in the angles of his face, to follow the line of his jaw and remind him not to grit his teeth like that.

“I know you do,” You whisper quietly, and it isn’t the answer you usually give. Past the flare of anger in his eyes, you see something else, something that looks like fear and makes acid churn at your stomach. You swallow thickly, “Ivar, I-…”

“No, no, just…just-…you know I wasn’t thinking,” He interrupts, and though there’s a frantic edge to his words, it is quickly overshadowed by that anger particular to him, that anger at feeling unmoored, that resentment at being vulnerable. “Anger overcame me, it wasn’t-…what would you have done, hm?”

“What?”

“He was trying to take you away from me, he was trying to convince you to leave me. I know that.”

He doesn’t mind the look you give him, pushing forward, “When we were children you would risk punishment by stealing to feed the hunting dogs, remember? Now you help Ivar the Boneless raid our land, overthrow our King, your brother? You’d burn the world for a man like him?”

Your eyes fall closed, and all you can offer is a sigh that gets halfway stuck in your throat.

Ivar stays silent, mercifully. Or cruelly, maybe. You aren’t sure you know the difference anymore. You aren’t sure you care.

Emir and you parted ways a long time ago, a marriage of convenience that blossomed into friendship, but that once your parents and his guardian were dead had no reason to continue to be so. Seeing him earlier tonight on the feast was not something you were expecting, and not something you thought would end the way it did. And his presence, his absence, beg the question he asked last and you are afraid to answer, what would you be willing to do for him? What would you forgive, what would you condemn?

His hands settle on the sides of your hips, a grounding touch, you aren’t sure if for your benefit or his own. Ivar pushes on when you remain silent for maybe too long.

“I need to know you can forgive me. I can make it better, I can…I can do that,” You don’t know if he is reassuring you or himself, and at your silence Ivar lifts big eyes to you again. There’s no hiding the fear now. “I l-love you.”

The scream is caught on your throat as Emir drops to the ground, the axe grotesquely stuck on the base of his neck. Your hands tremble, your whole body does, as you try helplessly to stop the bleeding as he gasps and chokes on his own blood.

A few involuntary jerks of his body as death grips him, and you lift your eyes and find Ivar’s unwavering gaze. He doesn’t give away anything other than cold fury, just the ruthless glare of the man Emir saw and was killed for speaking against.

You squeeze your eyes shut, “Stop saying it.”

“It is true, you know that,” He says, swallowing once before attempting, “And you love me.”

“You killed him, Ivar.”

“I had to.” He insists, searching your gaze as he uses his hands on your hips to tentatively bring you closer.

“You didn’t have to, you chose to.”

He grits his teeth, and there’s the clear tell of anger, of stubborn affront; but he doesn’t argue. Instead, searching your gaze for a few breaths, he asks,

“Can you forgive me?”

And it is at his words, at the answer that you can so easily give, that a pit grows in your stomach and ice runs through your veins. You can. You have already.

By all the Gods, if Emir is right and Ivar is a monster…what does loving him make out of you? What does forgiving the horrible things he does make out of the girl that would steal to feed hungry dogs?

Maybe the answer is in all the ways he tells you he loves you, in all the ways he promises devotion and protection and love. Maybe the answer is in how it has only felt real, it has only felt true, when it is Ivar the one telling you he loves you.

Maybe because you are not something other than that girl by loving him, but just by who you are, by growing past the desire to keep the world and learning to choose to let it burn for the sake of those you love. Maybe because you love him because of who you made out of yourself, not the other way around.

The ghost Emir’s voice becomes one with your brother’s, who still lives but not for long -not when his head holds a crown you are interested in and the man you love is willing to grant you-, and at what you made out of yourself they ask if you are content with your decision.

Searching his gaze, you mutely nod your head, both to his question and the one your ghosts ask.

“I can’t lose you,” Ivar admits past the clear tell of gritted teeth. He shakes his head, almost imperceptibly. “Not you.”

Torturously slow, the tips of your fingers dance over the side of his face, tracing the scar on his cheekbone

“You won’t.”

At your promise Ivar sighs, the first deep breath you have heard from him in a while, as if he were holding his breath; and leans forward, burying his face against your stomach and holding you even closer.

“Tell me you love me.” He beseechs, no longer attempting to hide the need to hear you say it.

You are sure there are countless ways you tell him you love him too, you are sure in times like these you tell him you love him like a promise to never leave him, like the assurance that he won’t ever lose you; and he needs to hear you say it.

“I love you,” You promise him, your arms around his shoulders as best as you can. Your eyes fall closed and you wonder if the words should taste like shame when you offer yet another truth, “Nothing could change that.”

Quietly, so quietly you are half-convinced it is imagined, he whispers, “I’m sorry.”

“He was our enemy, he would have died in battle anyways.” You tell him, and it is true, and maybe worse. Emir would have died fighting against an invasion you are part of the reason for, he would have died defending a kingdom Ivar will claim because it was once your home, he would have died alongside an army whose weaknesses you whispered in Ivar’s ear a long time ago.

He would have died, and you would have been the reason why. And it would have mattered to you as much as it does now.

But Ivar shakes his head, “I’m sorry, for…for all that I do.”

You wonder absently if he apologizes now not for Emir’s murder but for something else, something more human. You wonder if he apologizes for craving your gentleness, for needing your reassurance, for asking for your love. You wouldn’t put it past those worst thoughts he has about himself to make him believe he ought to seek repentance for something as simple as humanity.

Your fingers tracing absently over the short hair at the nape of his neck, you take a deep breath, but say nothing, certain it isn’t words what he needs from you now.

After an eternity, or maybe a moment, Ivar speaks again.

Solemn, he promises, “I love you.”

There are countless different ways he tells you he loves you. Sometimes, sometimes an I love you is just that, an admission, a declaration. A truth.

Thank you for reading!

Taglist: @youbloodymadgenius​​ @xbellaxcarolinax​​ @1950schick​​ @ietss​​ @peachyboneless​​  @encounterthepast​​ @maggiescarborough​​ @chibisgotovalhalla​​ @fae-sedai​​ @zuxiezendler​​ @crazybunnyladysworld​​ @stupiddarkkside​​ @northumbria​​ @sagyunaro​​ @aprilivar​​

[alighieri-sparda]

Incomplete | Vergil x Reader

Prompt list | 34. Returned from the death kiss

Word count: 1036

- - -

Sweetly requested by @blackenedskykai​ ♡

Oh, Temen-Ni-Gru and Nelo Angelo flashbacks, perhaps? This request was just perfect to me to write. I loved each second, since I started to write down my first ideas and then complete the imagine. What a wonderful request, dear ♡ Thank you for all your support ~

if I didn’t get so easily distracted, I’d have listened to Ultra Violet (Nelo Angelo’s theme) during the writing process. :’) Love this song.

- - - 

A cold wind blows strongly against your body as you run away from the demons. Weakness is perhaps the best word to describe what you feel in the moment: you and your powerless body can do nothing but try to escape. Dante is not here to save you this time.

It is your fault. You promised that you would be safe without him, Lady or Trish because you didn’t want to bother them during that longstanding job they accepted in another city. You knew it could happen.

Desperately, you step further into an alleyway, blinded by fear. When you realize there’s no way out, the demons are already blocking your only exit.

You’re not a demon, like Trish. You don’t have any powerful weapons like Lady. You don’t even know how to hold a sword like Dante. You’re just a human.

You have even tried to learn how to defend yourself once Dante left Temen-Ni-Gru with you, but he assured that he would always have your back. He didn’t want to see you putting yourself in danger, fighting demons, and carrying sharp weapons; you’re the last living memory he has from his twin brother. It was his duty since he let Vergil fall: protect what was precious to him.

Oh, Vergil. The only man you loved in your whole life.

Uncountable thoughts have crossed your mind since you saw your beloved fall into Hell. A specific moment that you always remember was when Dante returned from Mallet Island with a blonde woman beside him. He was unusually quiet, avoiding you. That annoyed expression of his was killing you inside. Dante never mentioned anything about his adventure on Mallet Island, which was uncommon since one of his favorite parts was telling you what happened during his jobs.

Firstly, you considered that he started to hate you somehow, but you quickly put away this possibility when Dante once told you, suddenly smiling:

“I’m happy to see that I can count on Lady and now Trish to keep you safe. Have you ever considered calling me dad, Y/N? ‘Cause I feel like one.”

He was just joking when he said that, but you understood what he meant. He has been basically your older brother for the past twenty years now. But you never called him like that because you know well that he misses his older twin as much as you miss your love.

Dante has always done his best to take care of you. And this is what motivated you to keep running, trying to escape from the demons. Because he would suffer if he lost someone he cared about again.

But you failed. You’re trapped. And no one can save you or hear your last words now.

As you see one of those beasts jumping on your fragile and defenseless body, your eyes instinctively close. When the darkness embraces your mind, it immediately replaces your frightening thoughts with the last memories you had about Vergil.

You want him to be the last thing you remember before you die. The part of your soul you lost on that day.

Suddenly, agonized screams and grunts catch your ears. When you open your eyes, the demons that once were trapping you are now reduced to lifeless carcasses. Only a silhouette stands on the exit now. A curved and atrophied body has a katana on its hands, out of breath.

Even though you don’t recognize that person who’s in front of you now, you don’t feel exactly scared. This person just saved you. And somehow, you feel nostalgic. Something tells you that you should approach this unknown silhouette. It would probably sound stupid, but you can’t help but follow your instincts.

You take a step closer to that person. Although it’s dark, you immediately recognize that face hidden by a makeshift hood and then freeze, completely shocked.

“Vergil?”

He doesn’t even move. His skin is pale, fully marked by cracks. That strong and invincible man who used to protect you at Temen-Ni-Gru looks broken now. A pitiful aspect that you never would associate at Vergil.

“Vergil…” You repeat his name, practically begging him to look at you. Unable to wait for any reaction from him, you just lower his hood, looking deeply at his eyes. Surprisingly, he looks back at you.

“Y/N…” He whispers. His voice is as cracked as his appearance, and listening to his voice again makes your eyes fill with tears.

“What happened to you, love?” You take your shaky hands to his face, holding it softly. “I can’t believe you’re alive… I missed you so much, Vergil.” Your words become choked because of your tears.

Vergil hugs you carefully. His body is so fragile, looks like he’s going to break at any moment; and that’s why you just pet his hair kindly. The last thing you want is to hurt him in any way.

“I can’t stay with you now, Y/N. I’m too weak.” He takes a step back just to glance at your face again. It’s now his time to take a hand on your face, brushing his thumb on your cheek. “I have a job that must be done. But I needed to see you once more before I leave.”

You don’t have time to ask anything. He closes his eyes and kisses you. His lips are dry and cracked, but you don’t mind. Vergil is alive, touching you again. He’s back.

Once you separate that simple kiss, you touch your forehead with his.

“I thought you were dead, my love.”

“And I was.” He responds sadly. “But it doesn’t matter now. Not anymore.”

Vergil steps back again, but this time, he is leaving. He turns his back on you, demonstrating his intention to keep his way on.

“I will become powerful again, and you’ll never be in danger again, Y/N. I promise.”

Before you could even react, he teleports with Yamato. In a blink of the eye, you were left alone again. Heavy tears run down your face; your mind is still processing everything that just happened.

There’s a lot of things that you have to discuss with Dante now, but you can’t think much about it. Vergil is alive. But you still incomplete.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH39

**This is an edited machine translation. For more information, please [click here]**

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-----

Chapter 39: Star Death Reality Show (XXII)

This sound was like a signal to escape. Janet, Alex, Jing Siyu and Jing Sixue ran away in fear, wishing to escape to the ends of the earth.

"Take Lara away, get back! I’ll lead it away, I can deal with it!" Qi Leren kicked Du Yue and told him to act quickly. He shot at the monster's head to attract its attention, and prepared to take it somewhere far away and solve it with his own hands.

The monster came out. The swollen amphioctopus broke from its host body, and Francis's body was like a deflated balloon hanging off the amphioctopus, but this space alien had revealed its true appearance—an odd tentacled creature shaped like an octopus, which was covered in Francis's blood, and had changed from a mass of parasitic "seeds" in the body to a dangerous predator full of viscous body fluids.

Its speed was extremely fast. After breaking free from the shackles of the human body, it rushed toward Qi Leren at an amazing speed!

Qi Leren stopped shooting, picked the flashlight up off the ground, sped up his strides with all his strength, and rushed through the corridor deep in the institute at an inhuman speed!

The boundary between prey and hunter was difficult to distinguish. Both sides were sure that they were the hunter, but it wasn’t known who would die.

The S/L Data’s thirty seconds had passed. At this time, Qi Leren, who didn't have an immortal body, could only rely on his own abilities to handle this difficult opponent. At a gallop, Qi Leren realized that the distance between the octopus and him was getting farther and farther, and he was running fast enough to get rid of this fast-moving monster after having broken the shell.

He looked back, glancing out of the corner of his eye. This monster, which looked like an octopus, came after him as quickly as if it was sliding on the ground. Fortunately, it still didn't run as fast as he did. Seeing that there was a T-shaped intersection ahead, he immediately cheered up and prepared for the final battle.

Three, two, one, do it!

Qi Leren bit the ring off his hand grenade and threw it behind him. He pushed his running body harder, jumping around a 90-degree corner, and hugged his head on the ground.

Boom—

A huge explosion sounded around the corner, and the flames from the explosion lit up the whole passageway. Even Qi Leren, who was lying on the ground, felt the immense heat and shaking, and countless debris blew out and sprayed straight into the corridor ahead. Hiding in the vertical position of the T-shaped corridor, Qi Leren survived the explosion unharmed.

It was over.

Qi Leren stood up and was about to lift his foot to go out when Chen Baiqi's warning came to mind again. He breathed a sigh of relief, kept on alert, and carefully stepped around the corner with his gun drawn.

The explosion had made this area ahead unrecognizable. The body of the octopus had been blown apart, and several tentacles were thrown on the metal wall, sliding down slowly together with mucus, dragging out a scarlet liquid trail. With the loss of its tentacles, the octopus would only move helplessly a few times before falling to the ground completely dead.

All the four mature amphioctopuses had been dealt with, which meant that requirements could be almost declared for this task. Even if there were still a few newly spawned parasitic amphioctopuses in the contestants, they could be easily distinguished by detecting them with the instruments. But to kill people... Qi Leren imagined the scene with a heavy heart.

Once parasitized, it was hopeless. All he could do was let the parasitized people die happily.

Qi Leren pursed his lips and felt a little dry cough. His throat choked by the smoke was also a little painful, but it was still within tolerance.

He should find Du Yue and meet with him first. Qi Leren thought about it and walked along the way back.

At the moment he walked around the corner, the flashlight in Qi Leren’s hands suddenly swept onto a reflective object. When he looked intently, it was a half-open iron door, just at the end of the corridor where he had escaped the explosion just now. That is, at the bottom of this T-shaped intersection, there was no other fork in the road at its end, only a lonely door.

There was no sign on the door, no words, no letters, no special symbols. It was just a heavy iron door, half-hidden, and it was dark inside.

Qi Leren's heartbeat suddenly slowed, and his intuition whispered vaguely in his ear, encouraging him to move forward.

He pushed open the door, and the flashlight lit up the dark space. This small room was an office with desks, bookshelves, and office chairs.

There was also a computer: the same laptop that Qi Leren had been worried about, afraid of, and looking forward to.

His heart jumped wildly. Qi Leren took a deep breath, slammed the door, rushed to the computer in three steps and two steps, took out the prepared mobile power source from the item bar and connected it, and pressed the power-on button with trembling hands.

When the familiar boot screen appeared, Qi Leren clenched his hand and couldn't help tapping on the desk. Hurry up, open it quickly, and let him try again. Could he play Nightmare Game again? He had too many doubts that he needed this game to answer.

After the boot was finished, the mouse cursor moved to the icon of Nightmare Game and double-clicked.

The game interface appeared, and Qi Leren's heart was about to jump out of his throat. He held his breath and moved the cursor to "Save and Load".

Countless save files jumped out, arranged in reverse chronological order, and the last one was in the chapel in the Village of Dusk. At that time, he had gone through rows of old pews and was faced with a choice in the depths of the church: to the left or to the right.

He had saved the file, then walked through the door to the right, received the Holy City task, and had his first death there. In the real Nightmare World, he had chosen to go left, and then he met Ning Zhou in the graveyard outside the door, who had come to sweep Maria’s grave.

What if this time, he chose to turn left in the game? Would he meet Ning Zhou?

This problem had once bothered Qi Leren, but now he could prove it.

[…Reading save file, LOADING……]

[File read completed. Player "Passerby A", welcome back to the Nightmare Game.]

In the game, Qi Leren’s character named "Passerby A" went to the left door under his command. Qi Leren hardly dared to breathe, and countless chaotic thoughts berated him. For the first time, he was strongly aware of the fear that overthinking could bring.

The wooden door opened, and the game entered a cutscene animation. He could no longer manipulate his character, but watched him walk forward.

Outside the door was a gravel path occupied by shrubs and weeds. He went straight ahead. All the greenery in this sunset did not give a feeling of peacefulness, but instead filled his with anxiety and unease.

Qi Leren didn't know whether he wanted to see Ning Zhou in the game or not. His yearning heart was looking forward to meeting him again, even if it was separated by a cold screen. But reason made him resist. He didn't want to see Ning Zhou as an NPC in this game, because he didn't dare to ponder the hidden meaning behind it.

No matter whether he wanted it or not, in the dim afterglow of the sunset, Qi Leren still saw a figure standing in front of the tombstone.

So familiar, because he was so deeply imprinted in his mind, but so strange, because they were separated by the layer of a cold screen.

The figure appeared on the screen murmuring and, just like every NPC, the lines were displayed on the screen:

[Mom, I’ve fallen in love with someone I shouldn't love. He’s made me confused...]

Qi Leren's eyes had just seen this sentence when the words were blurred instantly.

It turned out that on that day, before he had walked from this church and seen Ning Zhou, Ning Zhou had once said such a thing in front of Maria's tombstone.

This was a lost Ning Zhou. At that time, he had not yet firmly believed that he would be willing to exile himself for his love. He was hesitating, unsure and uneasy, but he had no one to talk to. He could only come to his mother's grave and tell her quietly, even if he couldn't get an answer.

Qi Leren covered his face in front of the computer, tears flowing down his fingers and wetting the keyboard. He never knew he was such a fragile person; even if it was just a few words he had never heard before, they made him burst into tears.

He wanted to rush into the screen, embrace that lonely back, and comfort the lonely wandering soul.

But his approach would only wake up the lost man.

"Who’s there?" Ning Zhou appeared again on the screen.

Qi Leren woke up from grief. Ning Zhou had discovered his existence!

He couldn't make any answer. It was just a game with pre-written dialogue. When the game didn't give him options, he couldn't say anything.

They looked at each other without saying a word. They were as unfamiliar as two strangers.

They were indeed strangers.

Footsteps came from behind, and the Qi Leren in the game turned his head. Along this path full of weeds and shrubs, he saw a man walking towards them, bathed in the sunset from where he had come.

His words were also subtitled on the screen: "Passerby A? Ning— Ning Zhou? Why are you here?"

At this moment, Qi Leren was shaking and unable to breathe.

A familiar person stood there, looking surprised and shyly at Ning Zhou behind him.

That was himself.

-----

[<<< Previous Chapter | Table of Contents | Next Chapter >>>]

[trashogram]

Smut I’ll probably never finish; we’ll call it practice: Killer Croc/Reader

Edit: Warnings for painful sex, slight gore/blood, and violence 

I didn’t expect people outside of those who humor me on this blog to actually read this, but I appreciate everyone who did! I’m putting up a few warnings by request if anyone else is interested.  

“You really meant it, huh?” He asked.

The guttural voice gave you shivers, up and down your spine. Your legs tightened around his waist, bare skin rubbing over the scaly texture assuredly.

“Yes.” You confirmed, knowing that you had to choose your words carefully, otherwise you’d offend him. At least, that was how you thought you would react if you were a killer crocodile man getting a taste of intimacy after God knows how long.

Your slight movements actually managed to push him forward slightly, more out of surprise than your own strength. Again, you weren’t some super-strong mutant, able to lift cars and topple buildings.

He grunted, leaning down until his upper body was atop yours and his enormous hands were on either of you. He stared down at you with yellow eyes that mezmerised; they were unnatural looking and yet still so human - full of little flickers of emotions. The lust was obvious and it made the heat between your thighs that much more intense, but Croc was also questioning. His hesitance shouldn’t have surprised you, but you found yourself melting just a little at the fact that he was waiting for you to change your mind.  

Your hand rose, reaching out toward his chest and sliding up from his pectorals all the way to his jaw. He was scaly from head to toe, but there were parts of him that were softer than others. His neck was strangely fragile, like the underbelly of a reptile rather than their hide.

“Can I kiss you?” You whispered, swallowing at the way his brow arched.

“Kiss?” He said, tone slightly incredulous. “You wanna… kiss me…?”

“Oh, do you not want… do you not like them?” The statement didn’t take into account that Croc had possibly never been kissed in his entire life, and you’d put it like that on purpose. He didn’t exude any kind of touchy-feely behavior to suggest he’d been given the chance to decide if he liked physical touch like that at all.

His mouth closed, teeth hidden behind a set jaw. “If it’s what you want, lady. Go for it.”

You smiled softly, and raised yourself up just enough to be within kissing distance. Your lips puckered and you pressed them against his straight as a line mouth, noting that this area was hard but not rough. There was give to it, reminding you more of human flesh as his lips parted slightly.

You moaned, accepting the quick draw and release of his breath into you. You could feel his coarse chest against yours, and the heart inside beating quickly as he let himself relax. He groaned into your mouth finally, humming as if he were tasting something particularly delicious while you coaxed his tongue into your mouth.

You pressed your forehead against his before breaking away for air, letting him know without explicitly saying it that you just needed to breathe and weren’t trying to escape. Not that you could from underneath him.

Croc panted with you. “You sure you ain’t never killed a man before? Probably could, if you kissed ‘em like that.”

You closed your eyes and laughed, feeling lightheaded. Your fingers stroked over his cheek and along his jawline as you felt his grip around you tighten up. He squeezed you, carefully but with purpose, holding you firmly.

+++

Leaning down, you kissed the criminal again while balancing yourself with your hands pressed down over his ribcage. Pushing the hair away from your face before rising again, you reached back and easily found his cock and aligned yourself with it.

You inhaled slowly, determination strengthening your resolve as you continued to sink down onto him. The head was fully inside, but you were still far and away from taking all of his length.  

He growled, claws tensed around your waist. It was enough to make you brace yourself with a hand on his forearm.

You grunted. “Tell me how it feels, big guy. Please. I wanna know.”

The sweet request took a while to get through to his brain, but Killer Croc eventually came back to reality. His eyes were glazed over, but you could still see your reflection. You were the only thing in his world.  

“‘S like heaven.” He murmured.

The praise made you blush. Your stomach unclenched as a new sense of confidence flooded your senses, and you went back to working your way down so that he could have more. It was very much work, even as the crocodilian man helped by taking some of your weight. He held you up when you needed to pause, though it became evident that he’d started shaking.

You dragged one hand from his abdomen to your center, circling your clit. It sent a jolt of electricity through your body, reminding you to let yourself feel this experience.

       Your walls clenched around Croc, and you whimpered. It was completely drowned out as the beast under you snarled at the sudden vice. You jerked back as his hips moved upward in a shallow thrust and suddenly you were there. Your ass was seated firmly on his hips.

He was in bliss, head tossed back against the cell floor. “Ahh, that’s … uuugh, real good.”

You giggled affirmatively, allowing yourself a moment to bask in the triumph of taking all of him. You felt beyond full, stretched to a limit many women couldn’t likely accommodate lest they risk injuring themselves.

You were nice and durable, though. Even as you pressed back down on his chest for leverage and began to lift yourself halfway up again. You looked down between your legs and saw how shiny the base of his cock was already, then lowered back down. Again, and then again.

The wetness was a blessing. You were sliding up and down within a minute, unending fullness that kept you walking the line between pleasure and pain.

You cried out as Killer Croc made another attempt at thrusting. It was still slight, but there was no way for it to go unnoticed. He continued to growl, letting one claw grip onto your thigh while the other left you entirely to dig into the floor.

It was so easy to get overwhelmed, and yet the noises you made seemed to egg him on. He got into a disjointed rhythm, really trying to fuck you in earnest.

He was too big. The thrusts felt like being shivved in the pelvis while he hit the farthest he could go inside of you. Yet, you couldn’t do more than squeal and shriek as you bounced violently.

The nails on your thigh dug in and pierced your flesh. You covered your mouth to muffle a scream at the pain, but Croc took advantage. He pulled you forward, squeezing you to him and thrusting faster.

The danger of this getting out of hand had been reached and you felt dizzy and helpless. You couldn’t focus on any one thing whether it be the blood sliding down your leg or the stab of him against your cervix. You sobbed, eternally grateful for your bodily resilience as you were split apart.

This wasn’t going to kill you, even if it felt exactly like that.

“Fuck! I’m, ugh!” His words were punctuated with fast, shallow thrusts. Howling out, he completely immobilized you and buried himself to the hilt before you realized that he’d cum.

Heat filled you, stinging as it joined the static sensation of hurt and tingling inside. You could barely feel the rest of your body, only noting that the base of your spine felt like it was being shocked.

Croc’s relief sounded like a combination of deep growl and a nasal grunting. His hold on you went lax as soon as he had emptied everything inside you.

—-

The sound was distant, faraway thunder that still shook the ground beneath. It was simultaneously comforting and bizarre feeling the earth beneath you giving and taking. Not to mention the strange texture - inconsistently smooth until your arms lowered over its slope and you touched a much harder surface underneath.

Were you lying in some kind of plateau? Or a strange rock that was smooth at its peak and jagged at the base?

Eyelids fluttering, you squinted. There was harsh, ugly light above you, casting a glare against the thick glass before your eyes. It was a wall of glass, thicker than the thickest plaster wall you could find in an apartment in the Narrows.

You connected the dots then, and your head rose with a bit of effort so that you could confirm that you were still laying on Killer Croc.

Yes, he was still there and still breathing. And so were you.

Thank god.

Your lower half felt numb, except for the thick object still lodged inside of you. You grimaced a bit trying to pick yourself up with the added weight of his arms still embracing you, but his softening cock eventually slipped out of you.  

The cum was thick and white, no different from a completely human man’s. The feel of it dripping out of your core was just as satisfying while you struggled to catch your breath.

You were quivering when you felt Croc’s arms drag over your back, pleasantly scraping over your soft skin as he kept your body atop his own securely. He clearly didn’t give a shit about being covered in your combined fluids.

[something-very-special]

In the original Nier, Weiss and Papa muse about how the shades are slowly "becoming smarter" and better organized. Through the lore, we learn that some Gestalts have relapsed into mindless monsters, while others retain their sentience. Of the bosses, field enemies and sidequest shades, which Shades do you see as being sentient and which ones have relapsed?

According to the lore, all Gestalts before the Shadowlord underwent relapse, so there was actually quite a broad swath of mindless monsters out there (the ones that attack during the prologue are all therefore relapsed). After he pacts with Noir he’s the first stable Gestalt, and his body is harvested for the maso particles that he generates, which are somehow distributed to the other Gestalts as they are made in order to stabilize them. There are still a lot of Gestalts that aren’t given this treatment and thus result in the ‘feral’ Shades, but I believe that by the time the game happens most of them have gone extinct. The stable Gestalts were put into stasis to wait out the destruction of the Legion and Red Eyes monsters, to be carried out by the Replicants. The feral Gestalts were still out and about during this time, presumably also engaged in an incidental war with Legion (that is, they’re mindless and violent and these other things are mindless and violent, let’s you and him fight). The prequel game long ago proposed by Yoko Taro involved specifically a small squad of Replicants led by their android overseer going in the kill Red Eyes and end the scourge once and for all. This was basically a sentence-long pitch but my read on the full context was that Legion was the monster du jour and whatever relapsed Shades were out there had largely been eradicated already. There are, of course, still relapsed Gestalts in present day. It’s fairly clear before the game starts that Shades are considered very dangerous, to the point that settlements must be kept small and far apart and walled for their own protection... but they’re still pretty uncommon. That rarity is in part what leads to them being so feared, and that fear is probably stemmed from the main encounters with Shades being with violent, relapsed Gestalts that would randomly attack humans. The stable Gestalts mostly kept holed up in their homes waiting for the promised conclusion of Project Gestalt. There are indications of Shades that are just seen wandering around minding their own business and people retreat and shutter up in fear, but active attacks from Shades are uncommon enough that all of the settlements leave their gates wide open and, other than the Aerie, and there are plenty of conversations about how Seafront and the Village in particular are pretty much untouched by them-- even the three hanging out at the northern entrance are considered ‘concerning’. All that said, I think, over the course of the game, you don’t actually encounter any relapsed Gestalts. The violence in the game starts with an attack on the three child Shades outside the Village. The attack on the bridge crew the next day is likely in retaliation for this act. The next level of Shade activity comes after you free Weiss from the Lost Shrine and indicates that unification will be occurring soon. Some Shades start appearing in the Northern Plains-- they’re hostile but not significantly aggressive unless you attack back (or you’re carrying a fragile package); contrast to later in the game where your appearance on the map basically causes any currently-spawned Shade to start charging your position. The ones in the Aerie are doing their own thing but under a unified goal of trying to forcibly reunite with their bodies-- violent, but still sentient. There are a few out on the Southern Plains as the game progresses, including that big guy who’s killing the deer and is pretty much guaranteed to one-shot you the first time you see him, but if my theory about the sheep killing transfers over this is also a resource deprivation tactic. Seafront has significantly greater resources than anywhere else with its direct access to the ocean, but even they by the second half of the game are talking about the difficulty in getting food. There are a few Shades mentioned in specific sidequests that seem to be acting in peculiarly violent ways, but the two I’ve re-encountered so far -- the bridge Shade and the Seafront postman-eating Shade -- are positioned at choke points where they can easily disrupt trade and correspondence. Their methods are noted as being peculiar, but they’re still intelligent tactics, not random violence. I admit I might simply not be remembering other Shades from sidequests, but by and large, I don’t think so. There are some random Shades just chilling in some weird locations like the Barren Temple-- not really accomplishing anything there-- but if relapsed Gestalts are inclined toward violence it wouldn’t really make sense for them to stay somewhere that nobody actually goes. It’s certainly a possibility, but their behavior is overall consistent with the aggression we see from Shades in the second part of the game, where the Shades are acting under orders and organizing their attacks. The bosses are pretty well confirmed to be stable given the revelations of the Route B, with the only possible exception being Hook-- and I think Hook would be less ‘relapsed’ and more -- to use the scientific vernacular -- ‘bugfuck nuts’. (Tyrann isn’t relapsed -- although he’s kind of a weird case overall -- and he just really likes killin’ people so it’s not out of the realm of possibility for certain Shades to just really like killin’ people.) It has the intelligence to try and trick Kaine into embracing death, and carries out an active conversation to that end so it’s not just mindlessly parroting words even at that point. The only other consideration I might make is the Shades in the weapons facility, less because of their tactics and more because it feels like that would be one of the few places in the game where relapsed Gestalts could theoretically survive. But that also could have been a major location for Gestalt stasis, and either read leaves them all understandably pissed that nobody could figure out how to open the front door, so the difference between ‘relapsed’ and ‘stir crazy’ is negligible at best. So overall, while I believe there are still relapsed Gestalts in the world, I think the game only ever has you fight against any during the prologue (and, technically, during the flashback dream with the fortune teller).

[wickedapollo]

This is going to become a Saint-14 blog you watch. Everything is going to be become Saint. Everything. Oh my God, I love that man. I can't. I can't even.

Anyways, this is a Dawning gift for my friends [@lady-efriyeet @galexion @nyllius ]! It may come out before then, I have no idea currently, as I write this. I am very motivated for this one, unlike my promised Shiro oneshot... Oops. I'll get to that one in due time I swear.

Saint-14 x Hunter! Reader

Warnings : angst and [reads smudged writing on hand] flurf

The wind nips at your unarmed arms, snaking up your biceps and brushing against your throat. Your fingertips are numb with the chill, you flex them but it is all for not. They aren't frozen just cold. You sigh, closing your eyes and hanging your head.

You can't remember the last time you had a day off, it seems all you do is move about the system, killing things, saving people, and then you move on. Move on as though a leaf upon the wind who's only motive is to please such that hurries you. It is a sad existence, you think to yourself, that I am only something used to fight the battles that everyday people cannot. The mere idea that you are useless makes your heart sink in your chest. Perhaps if it sinks lower it may fall through you and hit the floor, shattering with all your prizes, all you hold dear.

Your eyes wander back to the silent bazaar. It is, after all, only two A.M. and most sane people are asleep. Your thoughts and insomnia keep you awake, brushing at the fingertips of sleep while your body falls more and more awakened. You hate nights like these, when sleep is scarce and there is no one to talk to.

If only your prayers could talk back.

You wrap your arms around your ribs as you straighten to look up at the traveler. The pristine machine god offers you no solution. No end to your sleepless night. Only the same silence as it has always treated you.

"Голубь?" It is a small, almost whisper-like voice. Scratchy and groggy from sleep. Like what you had once imagined dark chocolate would sound, not that you had imagined voices for the food you ate, that was preposterous, but it was a way to describe it. "What are you doing awake?"

"I can't sleep." You murmur, more to yourself than to him. You watch him rise groggily onto his metal forearms and squint into the darkness of your bedroom. His optics adjust in brightness, much like eyes adjusting to the dark. He sits there for less time than you expect before he pushes himself up and looks around slowly.

"It's twenty-five til three." He states, and for a moment he seems amazed by the time. Perhaps the fact that it is so late and you are still up? Who knows. He pulls the blankets off of his lap to stand, boards creaking under his feet as he does so. He easily towers over you, optics blinking as he adjusts to the lighting.

You can’t help but shrink further into the linen curtains. You know Saint means well, he always does, you don’t feel like being berated for not sleeping. Not that Saint would do that, but you know he’s going to ask questions. It’s his way of looking after you, you know. You appreciate it sometimes.

However, he doesn’t, instead he wraps his arms around you and pulls you into the soft cotton of his t-shirt. You would expect, like most metal things, Saint would be cold to the touch. He never is, and no matter how many times you’ve touched him, you are always surprised at how warm he really is. You hope all exos are this way, though you could never truly be sure, and are too afraid to test your new theory.

“Perhaps I can help?” He offers, in the soft tone that only he can have. It reverberates throughout his chest as his hands gently smooth over your back. Truthfully they don’t have to go far, Saint’s hands are huge. You barely have enough room for one, let alone both of them. You don’t complain though, only pressing your face into his chest with a nod.

You’re moving before you can truly process it. Being pulled towards the bed with little protest, in no hurry to leave your titan’s embrace. He seems in even less a hurry to let you go. Though that is Saint, always has been, always doting and encouraging.

Strong hands lift you up, and though he doesn't say it, what he wants is as clear to you as the night sky. You sluggishly wrap your legs around his waist and wrap your arms around his neck. He moves his hands under your thighs and sets his chin on your shoulder as he walks. There's something soothing about it, perhaps it is why babies are rocked to sleep.

His warmth is intoxicating, like sitting by an open fire and reading. Like being curled in a fuzzy blanket while the wind and rain howl outside the window, something so natural and peaceful that it may have lulled you to sleep right there- If you were not so keen on staying awake to avoid the nightmares. Though your eyes droop and your limbs are heavy, you force yourself to stay awake.

If you wait long enough, Saint will let you load up on caffeine and give you disappointing looks. You could handle that, you hope. It's just that you are so tired, it's almost criminal. It's to the point you feel like crying- for no reason- at anything.

Soon enough your ambition falters, you close your eyes. They were just so heavy, you argue to yourself, not even Atlas could have held them open.

Soon your arms relax around Saint, hands falling limply from his shoulders to hang lifelessly. Your fingers rest against the warm metal of his arms, twitching as he moves. It's only then you notice, somehow, he's humming.

You try to count his tune, as a last resort of staying awake. You lose it at six, arguing over what number you had missed to not get an eight count- and you pass out then and there. Slipping into the dark, like a warm blanket.

Saint, in all honesty, isn’t ready to put you down. He’s afraid you’ll wake up if he stops moving, it’s happened before. Though that was about a year ago, and he had unceremoniously tossed you on the bed, thinking nothing of the fact that you were human and very, very fragile.

He sighs, looking over at the clock on the bedside table. You really didn't use it, never had need for an alarm, that's what you had your Ghost for. But he used it periodically, like now, seeing that it read three a.m even. The titan finally lays you down, pulling the covers over your chilled body and up to your chin. When he's satisfied he kisses your forehead, metal lips lingering along your warm brow. You could be coming down with a cold, he thinks, one more thing to worry about…

You resituate to hug a pillow close to your chest, burying your face into it's softness. It makes Saint smile. You may be Saladin's Young Wolf, who fights with honor and Valor. A god killer. However, you are also his. His guardian, his love, and his inspiration. And he is soft for you.

The large titan moves to the window, glancing out into the empty street with contempt. There is a light on across the street, with shadows moving to and from in front of the window. He smiles, someone's wrapping presents for the Dawning still. He watches them move back and forth until the light goes out.

He leans back into the apartment and shuts the open window without question. It's late, he should sleep, too. He draws the curtains and pads back to his side of the bed. You've already stolen most of the blankets, but he can't find it in him to take them from you.

Instead he lays there, quiet as he listens to you breathe and snore softly. What a beautiful way to spend tonight, he thinks, when the room is warm.

However, now it is his turn not to find sleep. He tosses and turns for nearly twenty minutes. He sighs tiredly at the white ceiling. Perhaps if he counts the popcorn bits he can sleep. So he starts, 1, 2, 3, 4, 5…

No dice.

An arm snakes around his waist sleepily and you pull him close. You're nowhere near fully conscious, just awake enough to be a sleepy, cuddly mess. He turns his head to look at you in surprise as you nestle into his side and nose along his jugular vein, or coolant tube… either way.

"Did I wake you, Love?"

"Mmm?" You reply, eyes falling closed as you wrap a leg around his thigh. You still as you have found comfort in the position. Saint can't hide his smile, accepting the exchange and wrapping his arms around you. You're warm, and rightfully so, you're swaddled in blankets like a fluff tortilla.

His fingers sneak into your fluffy, messy hair. Carding through it and watching it fall back into place again and again. He lets out sigh, sounding more like a purr than an actual breath. His optics dim in the lighting, and he yawns.

"Sleep tight, Моя любовь."

[apples-r-rubbish]

John (11 x reader) Part 3

Word count:  3.1k Warnings: Violence (!!!), death mention AN: FINAL PART! Thank you so much for the support on the other parts of this. I have some stuff planned for the future (13 x reader ;) ) but if you enjoyed feel free to follow and request things! Thank you so much hope you enjoy! Anyway, geronimo!

PART 1 PART 2

A smile appeared quickly, then it vanished as soon as it arrived, he cursed low underneath his breath, running across the room to you, concern clear on his face. His hair had already slipped back to the way it was before no longer slicked back, you believed it was a timelord thing.

“(Y/N), what the hell did you do?” He scalded examining your wounds, finally sounding like himself

“Well, we needed a distraction, you weren’t opening the watch anytime soon, we needed to put as much distance as we could between them and-”

“So you decided to use yourself as bait? As a punching bag?” You paused for a second and breathed, he didn’t remember. 

“It’s fine,” you reasoned shortly, trying to diffuse the situation, “we need to go anyway, Rory and Amy are dealing with the remainder of that thing, they ran into the forest, I’ve managed to slow it down enough,” 

You went to run, adrenaline heavy in your veins, an involuntary scream ripped through you. 

“What are you like honestly? Can’t leave you humans alone for 5 minutes, nevermind 6 months,” He said pulling your arm around him so he could support your weight. 

“Doctor it’s been 2 years, didn’t you realise?”

“2 years? I thought your hair looked different or you looked older. Or maybe it could be the air,”

“Aw thanks, I missed you too, and your lovely comments about my appearance,” You said sarcastically.

“How did you get stabbed? Please tell me I didn’t-”

“No one of those things attacked me, because it wanted the chameleon thing. He also tried to strangle me,” You said, dizziness embracing you

“Woah, ok, ok, I’m going to have to carry you because you are not going to make it to them, like that,” He picked up gently, with a surprising level of ease “There we go? Comfortable?”

You mumbled a brief yes, redness clear in your face. “C’mon (L/N), we have to go save the Ponds,”

Amy and Rory were covered in the thick blue liquid and out of breath, by the time you had found them. They’d managed to fight off the older three men and had abandoned what was left of Edward Grey searching for the fake pocket watch.

“John, you’re-” Amy started, attempting to rub some of the sapphire fluid off her face and failing, as it was coated over the majority of her clothes

“Not John anymore,” You cut in, your voice weaker once again, fake confidence vanished

“And what have you been up?” Rory questioned, noticing the blood that had seeped into the doctor’s former pristine white shirt

“Got stabbed, no big deal, don’t even worry about me,” you laughed a fragile chuckle escaping your lips

“Rory, I need you to take her from me, I’ve got to find that child and the thing that caused it and get rid of it,” He stated, darkly. You felt your weight shift between the two men. Then the doctor kissed the man on the forehead followed by a small smile and then he whispered something to him that neither you couldn't hear. He hugged Amy tightly, “I’ve missed you raggedy man, it’s been a painfully dull two years.” She held him tightly for a moment, he kissed her briefly on the forehead

“Try not to get stabbed again, whilst I’m gone.” he said, his lips ghosted your forehead, “right gang, back soon, don’t follow,” He nodded before dashing into the forest.

About 3 minutes later all of you were trailing behind him, still in Rory’s arms, the bleeding becoming less frequent from your fresh cuts. You found the doctor rambling to the boy, his sonic screwdriver being thrown between his hands with increasing anxiety

“I knew you were a Valgun, something about you never seemed right, even as a human though I could never find the right words. I understand my species is a rare one, but to trap me for no reason other than as a experiment simply so you can learn some deep secret of my people is not the way to go,” He paused for breath “To trap me and my friends here for years is unacceptable, to strand them here is soulless, and to nearly mortally injure one of them is something you should’ve never done. I thought the Valgun were supposed to be clever, evidently not as you’ve realised hurting people close to me will not make me give in. You will only succeed in making me incredibly angry.”

“But we got your attention. The oncoming storm, the destroyer of worlds, the warrior,” The boy began, the low voice booming, the child’s mouth hung open like a startled fish.

“Do you want to know how I got those names? It wasn’t by being peaceful, it was from those days where I have seen destroyed planets, watched suns burn, and saved no one. Those days are long, long behind me, are you afraid? If you aren’t, I’d advise you to be. In fact, the only thing that has stopped me from ending you is that fact you inhabit that child.” 

It laughed. You felt your body shift involuntarily, pushing yourself from Rory’s grasp and standing. 

“What the hell is going on? What did you do to her?” The doctor shouted, noticing you all. The voice spoke again  “We guessed you would not follow us easily, we injected her when one of the bodies tried to kill her. Slow acting poison and Valgun DNA. If you come with us she’ll live. If you don’t the following situation will be quite, painful for her,”

“Rory, Amy, run, back to the TARDIS, I can fix this,” He said, fixing his crooked bowtie, as the married couple sprinted away, not wanting to further anger the doctor. He rushed to you, practically falling over himself

“Valgun DNA means we can control her, her final few minutes, however we want. However you want,” 

“Run you stupid old man,” was all you a managed to wheeze out before the boy snapped his pale fingers. Your face contorted instantly, a choking expression clear on your face, falling to the autumn floor, shaking violently. 

“Stop it, leave her alone,” he said kneeling next to you

“Or time lord we can make her fall in love with you. We understand John was rather fond of her” Another snap, your arms were around him, you pressed an involuntary kiss to his lips. He grabbed your arms as gently as he could and removed them from around him

“Stop that. Stop that right now. You want me, fine but do not hurt her. She’s gone through enough. She’s already injured and possibly dying. Let her go!” He snarled anger increasing with every syllable. Another snap, your body jolted back as you lay on the floor panting, desperate to inhale oxygen pressing a desperate hand to your wound. 

“So you have chosen to come with us?” The voice rumbled

“Oh I never said that,” He said, his head cocked to one side in a smug manner “Three things, you must know in this situation.  One, I don’t compromise especially in situations like this. Two, (Y/N) I swear this won’t hurt a bit,” He said pulling out his sonic screwdriver again “Three, there's one thing you never put in a trap if you're smart. If you value your continued existence, if you have any plans about seeing tomorrow, there's one thing you never, ever put in a trap. Me. Geronimo!” 

The screwdriver buzzed. Pain erupted in every nerve, screams tore through you

“No. Stop it! Stop it now! You will die! You will come with us! You will- You will-” The voice repeated, a desperate attempt to save itself. Edward stood there convulsing in agony, he stiffened suddenly against the shaking, his mouth closing and eyes rolling forward. A sharp breath came from his system, before, it steadily disintegrated and became one with the earth. The Doctor paused for a second examining the situation, before rushing back over you, his knees covered in mud not caring about the state of his formerly pristine suit.

“So, that was definitely a lie, about it not hurting then,” You mumbled weakly, a small cough escaping you. 

“Are you alright? Are you ok?” He soothed smoothing your back down

“I mean other than the stab wound, almost being strangled and whatever happened there, I’m fine,” a small laugh breaking the tension. The blood hadn’t stopped flowing from your wound.

“Right, we need to get you back to the TARDIS as fast as we can. Patch up that wound and get that DNA out your system.” He helped you on your your feet, the world slipped slightly and he caught you before you fell flat against your face “c’mon, fight it, stay awake for me, please,”

He clutched you in his arms, as he ran as fast as he possibly could, checking up on you every so often, assuring you were still conscious. 

“What did you say to Rory earlier?” you murmured, vision blurring as you spoke, a final attempt to make yourself look strong

“I told him to run when I said to, I knew you were going to follow me.” 

“Doctor, I-”

At that point, he had noticed you had lost your grip on reality, it had slipped away from you, “No, no, no, no, no, stay with me. I need you to stay. I’ve only just got you back. You need to live, you have to live. When you wake up, we’ll go anywhere you like, anywhere, as much running as you want. As long as you want to, anywhere, just stay, please stay. I can’t lose another. I can’t lose you,” he cried tears falling dramatically, as he speed picked up. He practically kicked the TARDIS doors in, Amy and Rory cursing when they saw you.

You woke up in the TARDIS in one of the few medical bays dotted throughout the ship. Your body ached as you pushed yourself into a sitting position. The room was medium sized, there was a chair next to bed you were in which currently held the doctor, asleep, glasses on, book practically slipping out of his hands. Your stab wound was patched up and most of your bruises seemed to be gone. You carefully got up and slipped out of the room trying to keep your noises to a minimum so you wouldn’t wake up the sleeping timelord. It seems like human habits had taken a toll on him. The console room greeted you with a quiet hum, which you assumed was a good thing. Amy and Rory stopped their conversation when they heard you, you shuffled towards them after picking up your coat from the railing

“There she is, the woman of the hour. Enjoy your three week nap?” Amy asked, giving you a tight hug when you approached

“I was out for 3 weeks? God, I’m sorry I put you through that,” You apologised

“Nah, it’s fine, we didn’t really deal with it. I mean we were concerned, but the Doctor took it particularly badly. He insisted that he stay with you as much as possible. He read to you, insisting something to do with timelord healing or culture or something. He insisted it was his fault too,” Rory said “claiming, that if he hadn’t been that reckless in the first place you wouldn’t have copied him, something like that,” 

“Nah,” You mumbled, stuffing your hands into your pockets and frowning instinctively, “where’s the fun in safety? He shouldn’t blame himself, I took on too much. I mean, I literally got stabbed, that’s quite clearly my fault,” 

You pulled an almost empty pack of cigarettes out of your jacket pocket. 

“(Y/N), please don’t fill your body with those chemicals, you’ve literally just got out of a coma,” Rory frowned

“Let me finish this pack and I’ll quit, cold turkey, I’ve had a rough few weeks and a few close calls I think I’m allowed a cig or two, considering I’ve spent at least 2 years on them,” you shot back with a small smile, in response he simply rolled his eyes. Swinging the TARDIS door open, you observed the view of a star system, a beautiful portrait of a mess of colour and light, you sat down with your legs hanging out the doors. Footsteps could be heard behind you followed by, “You could’ve have woken me up, you know”

“Absolutely not, you looked too peaceful, pretty boy. Also I wanted some fresh air and a view,” You chuckled, not turning your head to face him. “Rory, Amy, can you give us a moment please, I would like to talk to (Y/N) in private just make sure she’s alright,” the doctor said, his voice calmer than previously. The couple nodded and wandered off further into the ship saying they’d speak to you both in the morning. The doctor waited until they were out of ear shot, he flicked a few switches on the console, wandered over and sat next to you in a similar position. “I’m sorry about the forest. I’m sorry you had to get stabbed. I’m sorry they tried to control you. I’m sorry about abandoning you for two years. It wasn’t fair on you, you got reckless at the immediate sign of danger,”

“You can’t put that on yourself. I took the risks, that was my responsibility, and my decision to make. I barely remember the forest thing, I just know at one point I put my arms around you and nothing else. It is not your fault and it never will be.” There was silence after you spoke, as you took another drag from the cigarette. 

“You know those things are awful for you. I doubt your friend would approve.” You froze as he spoke like a deer caught in headlights

“I didn’t think you’d remember and in my defence, it was to get John to back off. And before you opened the watch it was to calm him. It’s better to have half dead men have hope,” You winced at that refusing to look him in the eyes. He paused for a moment, contemplating his choice of words, you took the opportunity to rest your head on his shoulder. It wasn’t the garden, instead it was the universe.

“Humans live incredibly short lives, and 2 years is a long time for most of them. I can drop you off back there if you met someone, or they can come along if you’d like. That Tom seemed nice, seemed friendly, he’d be nice to have around,” 

“He’s dead. He died. He was one of those people that were transformed. I tried meeting people, I tried dating. It didn’t work, they’d get too close and they’d ask questions that I didn’t have answers to, wanted to meet family, that didn’t exist. I had to look out for John, too. Once he even walked in one of the dates, completely ruined it, glared at the bloke the whole time. And at one point I stopped, dragging anyone into life is a potential death sentence. I only stayed with the Ponds and John.” You replied with a slight edge to your voice as you jabbed the remainder of the cigarette out.

“I’m sorry,” The apology escaped his lips before he could think about it

“Don’t be. Even then John didn’t exist. He was just a story, a shadow, a fantasy to keep you safe. He wasn’t real. All his thoughts, feelings, life, memories, they weren’t real. And I fell in love with him, that daft history who panicked at the worst times with his stupid laugh and an ability to dance,” You had started crying sobs ripping through your words, thinking about the man that had confessed his love for you and died seconds after. In an attempt to soothe you his arm wrapped around you in a comforting manner. 

“I’m sure, there’s another John Smith out there, or someone similar. I mean in theory, his feelings weren’t all fake. I can still feel bits of him, his thoughts, his feelings and his emotions, it’ll fade overtime but they’re still there. The chameleon arch, takes a scan of your emotions and implants aspects into the disguise, so it’s not a complete shock to your system. John was in love with you because I was. I was too afraid to tell you, and then I lost you for 2 years in that mundane town where nothing ever happened so close, yet so far away,” He rambled, his voice barely a whisper towards the end tears filling his eyes “and then I woke back up, and you were bleeding, half dead because of me. And then we went into the forest, trying to show off to save you. They could’ve killed you, they nearly did. In your final moments they nearly manipulated your body because they knew about what John had felt. I nearly lost you, another ghost to carry with me and I couldn’t do that.” you held him tightly in your arms, a desperate attempt to hold the pieces of him together, at least for another moment. He continued after a brief pause “Even with the stars with me and the world on my shoulders, I still care about you. And of course I feel the same way, I’m not a complete mad man,” A small laugh escaped his lips. 

“Oh god, you really do remember everything. I’m sorry about the even thing, adrenaline was high and I wasn’t thinking straight and I was trying to calm you down-” You cut abruptly short by a small peck on you lips

“Not even anymore. Anyway, before I became John, being that close to the watch meant I said those words and I meant it. I’ve loved you since I met you, you’re all of those things. Just thought it would be easier coming from John.” He smirked. Adrenaline once again kicked in you kissed again. A smile breaking out from both of you. 

“Anyway, you get to pick the next adventure, anytime, any place, anywhere, for as long or as little as you like.”

“I’ll decide in a bit, I just want this for now,” You said, breathing in deeply, focusing on him and your head returning to his shoulder, your fingers intertwined with his.You stayed that way for a while, neither of you daring to move. It was him this time, and you had the knowledge things would be different. But you had now and all of the universe at your fingertips.

[im-moreofa-dogperson]

Continuation for To Kill A Kingdom - PART 2

Summary: Takes place after Lira’s POV and before Elian’s at end of novel.

Warning: some fluff, minor changes to the rules of the TKAK universe

Words: 1158

POV: (second person) Reader as Lira

**MAJOR SPOILERS** For To Kill a Kingdom by Alexandra Christo

Previous parts: part 1

___________________________________________

After the crew settled into the ice palace for the night, you heard Elian’s footsteps nearing the room you were in. He had placed you in a decent sized bathtub given that the Pagèse hadn’t quite designed their property to house your kind.

Powdered snow sprinkled the crystalized window beside you, enchanting the dimly lit room with glittering shadows. With your arms placed on the shelf of the tub and your head resting on your arms, you sat admiring the snowfall when Elian finally walked in.

“Comfortable?” He teased. Without lifting your head, you chuckled and teased him back, “I think it was kind of Yukiko to accommodate me here given the circumstances.”

Elian snorted before crouching down on the floor beside you, his back to the window. After a moment, his fingers dipped into the water before tracing them along your tail, mesmerized still by the surreal sight of you.

The water swished around his wrist as he moved it, admiring the shadowy scales along the curves of your waist all the way down to your fin that just barely peeked out of the water.

“It’ll be gone by tomorrow,” you state. You couldn’t help but feel slightly downtrodden by the loss of your siren tail. You knew that after you journeyed as a human down the mountain, you’d be on your way to the Diavolos Sea where your appearance would then transform into that of the Sea Queen in all of her tentacled glory.

“Sure. But you won’t be,” Elian says. You gaze upon him, warmed by his assurance that your presence alone is enough for him.

You reach down to entwine his hand in yours. The water ripples out from where you stopped his movements, and for a moment, the gentle lapping of water and silent dusting of snow are all that moves.

You break the stillness then to tip his chin up towards your face for a kiss. He cups your cheek in his hand as he melts into you. Though the world was frozen and icy outside of your little bubble, you felt nothing but warm in Elian’s embrace.

******

The next morning, you woke up still in the tub with Elian asleep on the floor beside you. For a moment you simply admired how at peace he looked, dozed off lying on the cool tiles, and you giggled about how it was him who had once told you he preferred when you were unconscious.

A dull aching in your shoulder pulls you out of your daydream. You sigh as you remember that the crew would be making their trek down the mountain today, and you needed to change back into a human form.

You reluctantly tear your gaze away from Elian, and - sinking back under the water - you gripped the Eye of Keto and closed your eyes.

Though it was a pain you’d suffered twice already, the icy heat that exploded in your body as your tail slowly began to split made you yearn for another round with the Flesh-Eater.

The pain of your lower half splitting itself in two coursed its way through the rest of your body and you quickly grabbed the side of the tub as your arms tensed up. You scrunch your eyes even tighter shut and cover your mouth in an attempt to keep from crying out.

While you succeeded in stifling your screams, you struggled to keep still, thrashing and splashing enough water out to nearly drain the tub. You knew your attempts to keep quiet were to no avail when you felt a hand gently placed on your forearm.

Opening your eyes and panting for breath, you see Elian standing above you, one arm resting on the tub, the other on you. He wasn’t trying to hold you still or anything, he just wanted you to know that he was there. That you wouldn’t be alone this time.

******

“Good to have you back, Lira.” Kye said. You had all begun making your way down the frozen slopes and already you felt the cold grip your fragile, human skin despite the furs and cloaks bundling you up.

“Yeah, I’ve got to be honest, Lira,” Madrid said, “while I admire the ferocity and deadliness of your siren counterpart, I did miss the old you.”

“Yeah, you’re easier to take down this way”, Kye laughed. You smiled at their teasing, but Elian seemed to take offence.

“Will you two shut up? She’s still the same girl that just ended a war and could still easily take you down. Kye.”

At the singling out of Kye’s name, you and Madrid start to laugh as Kye asks, “why am I being singled out?”

“Because I’m cold and you’re being an ass.”

“Alright!” You finally say. “Save your breath. If either of you passes out from exhaustion, I’m just going to leave you there.”

While you admired Elian’s persistence in sticking up for you, it wasn’t necessary. Madrid and Kye meant no harm in their comments. Besides, your acknowledgement alone of who you are - who you’ve become - is enough.

As you walk along, Elian loops his arm through yours and pulls you close for warmth. Yukiko trekked along ahead of the pack, determined to avoid interacting with you, or Elian, or the rest of the Saad crew.

You hadn’t even spoken to her lest for a few casual words about sleeping arrangements since the two of you clashed swords in the peak of battle. You knew she felt hints of jealousy towards your relationship with Elian, and though you couldn’t blame her for her feelings, you also figured a confrontation about emotions with an ice princess would be more painful than the Flesh-Eater and the splitting of your tail combined.

So instead, you trudged along behind her with Elian, allowing her to keep her lead, most likely pretending the lot of you don’t even exist.

Elian seemed to catch on to your discomfort of Yukiko’s presence because he began to slow down, pulling the two of you to the back of the pack.

You figured his role as captain of the Saad had its perks, such as allowing someone else like Kye to take the reins while he shuffles back for a slight rest.

“You didn’t have to do that, Elian.” You explain, ”I’m fine.”

“I don’t care,” he states. You smile and shake your head at his bluntness and thank the stars for bringing you such an even match. Someone that could keep up with you.

You suddenly have a flashback to when Elian taught you sword fighting when the two of you sparred nonstop for at least three days. It was both daunting and exhilarating at once.

That’s how you felt walking next to him now. Trudging through the treacherous, frost-ridden terrain of the mountains with your nose so cold you feared it would fall off, yet there was nowhere else you’d rather be.

___________________________________________

[bounce-a-coin-off-your-witcher]

your love is my turning page

(based on “Turning Page” by Sleeping at Last because I listened to it the other day and cried like...twice)

tw: whump, major character ‘death’, blood mention, canon typical violence but only briefly, snuggling, fluff

---

Geralt cradled the bard’s body gently against his chest as he exited the keep, which was burning to a massive stony heap behind him. His amber gaze was blank and his mouth formed a thin, grim line as he moved steadily towards the side of the path ahead, where Roach and the sorceress were waiting for his triumphant return. How disappointed they would be.

Yennefer gasped and covered her mouth with her hand when she finally saw what Geralt was carrying, her tone utterly disbelieving. “No, Geralt. Tell me it isn’t true. Please tell me that he isn’t-”

“We didn’t make it in time, Yen.”

“Geralt, I’m-”

“It doesn’t matter,” the Witcher interrupted again. His voice was toneless and his eyes were glazed and empty when he spoke. Yennefer worried her lip between her teeth, mouth still hidden by her hand. She reached out for Geralt with the other but he growled and flinched away from the contact, “Don’t.”

“Just let me-”

“Don’t touch him, Yen!” the Witcher bellowed, curling his arms up and holding the bard’s limp form against his chest. Tears leaked from his eyes, slow and impossible in their appearance (Witchers physically cannot cry, or so he’d thought). They made their way down his stubbled cheeks and fell noiselessly to the ground. Some of them hung from the end of his nose for a moment before plummeting. Some dropped down to form damp, grey marks on the material of the bard’s half-open chemise. A chemise covered in dark, drying smears of blood.

Jaskier’s blood.

Too much of Jaskier’s blood. 

The Witcher fell to his knees in a patch of flowers and pulled the broken form of his best friend even tighter to him. “I...I’m sorry I was too late this time,” he murmured against the crown of Jaskier’s clammy forehead. His slender, long-limbed body still hadn’t gone entirely cold yet despite the blood-loss. “Gods, I’m so sorry.”

There were marks carved all over the bard’s torso, oozing blood through the thin material of his shirt; Geralt had seen the bloody sigils glowing faintly before he’d killed the crazed mage who’d put them there. The Witcher had pulled Jaskier’s shirt back down to cover his wounds and absconded with him, casting a careless Igni on his way out the door. 

The mage had needed a human sacrifice. The mage had chosen Jaskier.

Yen placed a gentle hand atop Jaskier’s unmoving shoulder and Geralt heard her empathetic sigh. “I’m sorry, Geralt.”

“I waited nearly a hundred years for someone to come along and show me what love was supposed to feel like and I’d wait a million more; but only for him,” the Witcher admitted. There was no reason not to admit things, now, when he couldn’t ruin anything between them. He laid the bard’s body down beside a small patch of daisies and buttercups and let the aching, burning tears continue their cascade down his face. He didn’t say anything more for a moment; words had never been his strong suit.

“Tell him now,” Yen suggested, her own voice watery with emotion, “Tell him everything. I’ll give you a moment alone.”

Yen wandered a few steps into the treeline to give them privacy, to give Geralt a moment alone with his paralyzed but absolutely not dead bard. She smirked to herself and wiped the forced tears from her eyes. Like taking candy from an enormous, stupid baby. Can he not hear the faint beating of his little bard’s resilient human heart?

“I’d give anything to see you smile at me again, Jaskier. I’m so, so sorry that we didn’t make it to you in time. I’m sorry that you died like this, for the sake of a greedy, power-hungry asshole. You were so bright. You brought so much happiness to the Continent. You brought so much happiness to me.”

Geralt, still kneeling next to Jaskier’s limp form, brushed a stray lock of brown hair behind the bard’s ear and felt a primal sense of loss wrap around every individual piece of his shattered and slow-beating heart. “If only I could have caressed your skin as softly as I often dream of doing. If only I could have felt your warmth in such a simple, human way. You made me stronger every time you coveted my weaknesses, you know. Even when I failed, you stayed at my side and told me how strong and kind I was. How brave I was. Your heart was so delicate and human and fragile. You forced me to work every day to improve myself. I would have done anything to keep you from breaking under the weight of this awful world and yet-” the Witcher’s voice broke completely and he only barely managed to gasp out “-and yet here we are.”

---

Jaskier could hear everything. The too-sweet paralyzation agent force-fed to him by the evil mage was close to wearing off but until then the bard could only listen as the man of his dreams mourned his apparent death. He could only lay in stunned silence as Yennefer noticed the presence of the mixed herbs and refused to mention them to Geralt. Perhaps this was her gift to Jaskier; perhaps this was an apology. Whatever twisted form of affection she was showing her new friend for now, though, had the bard feeling more than a little upset.

He hated seeing Geralt so worked up. So sad. So hurt.

“I’m going to miss your presence in the world, Jaskier. I’m going to miss the way you smiled when you blushed; gods, I wanted to make you smile at me like that so many times...it was blinding. The way your lip would curl up and your tongue would poke out when you scribbled your poems into that damned expensive notebook at inns or near the fire. Gods, I-”

“I could fix him for you,” Yen offered, returning from the trees. It was almost nonchalant in its casualness. Almost. 

“What’s the price for such an impressive feat?” Geralt asked. He smoothed the bard’s hair back again. He’d need to bury the corpse soon; he could barely stand to look at it any longer. It’s not Jaskier anymore, not without those sparkling eyes and that trembling, velvet voice. 

He’d do anything to hear that voice again, even Jaskier was only cussing him out or calling him every name in the book. He’d listen to a thousand repetitions of every insult hurled his way by every villager across the Continent if it meant Jaskier was saying them with the voice Geralt knew he’d never hear again. 

His voice was low and quiet when he asked the sorceress: “What kind of ingredients would you need for such a task?”

“I would need a sacrifice of equal value. Those runes can only be transferred from one person to another.”

Geralt’s head whipped around and his eyes widened hopefully. “Use me. If that will bring him back then take me.”

“And get horrifically murdered when he wakes to find his darling Witcher dead and buried? No, thank you. I don’t have a death wish.”

Smart woman, Jaskier thought. Just give me the antidote or whatever magical cure I know you’re hiding, Yennefer! Let me up! Let me comfort him, I’ve heard enough!

She’d clearly been listening to his thoughts because just as he summoned the worst of his insults to silently throw her way, Yen relented. She knelt beside Geralt and leaned forward, pressing her palm to the center of Jaskier’s forehead. There was a soft purple glow and Geralt panicked, “What are you doing!? You just said-”

“I lied,” she shrugged. “He was just paralyzed. You should have been able to hear his heart, faint as it was.”

“You...you mean…” Jaskier’s eyes slowly fluttered open and he groaned softly. The Witcher’s eyes were wide and shimmered with new tears as he leaned over the bard’s prostrate figure. “Jaskier?”

“Did-” he coughed and groaned again but pushed on “-did you mean it?”

“Every word,” Geralt smiled shyly. He hadn’t thought Witchers could blush, either, but here they sat; Geralt’s cheeks were pale pink and Jaskier was still heaving out labored breaths.

“Here are some basic healing supplies for the bard’s chest,” Yen interrupted, tossing a linen bag towards Geralt, who caught it easily. “I’m going to be on my way. You two need a moment, seems like.”

“Thank you, Yen,” Jaskier smiled. Geralt glanced between the two but before he could ascertain the bard’s meaning, the sorceress had fled through one of her portals and disappeared. As soon as she was gone, Jaskier let out the loud, anguished cry he’d been holding back in her presence. “Fuck me, this hurts! Fuck!”

“Fucking hells,” Geralt scrambled through the bag for some kind of pain relief. He placed a few drops of poppy tincture at the end of Jaskier’s tongue and lifted him slowly from the ground. “Let’s get you to an inn. I need to treat those cuts and I can’t do it very well in the grass.”

“My big, scary Witcher,” Jaskier smiled, hooking his arms around Geralt’s neck as he was lifted into the White Wolf’s embrace. “Taking care of me so well.”

---

That night, Geralt laid with Jaskier’s head atop his chest. The oddly patterned cuts across the bard’s torso were now covered in salve and bandaged tightly.

“None of my training prepared me for this,” the Witcher admitted, kissing Jaskier’s petal-soft cheek with the utmost reverence. 

“What is this?” the bard asked.

“I am yours,” Geralt stated. It was a simple fact. A fact he’d accepted the moment he realized he hadn’t lost Jaskier forever. The younger man’s face went bright red and he nuzzled closer to his rescuer’s side. Geralt’s strong arm was looped around his back, holding him close. “If you’ll have me, of course.”

“Gladly.”

The bard leaned up and pressed his lips to Geralt’s. It was soft, tender, and endlessly healing. Warmth spread through the Witcher’s body, spreading from his heart to each and every one of his limbs. He pulled the bard completely on top of him and wrapped his arms around the man’s lower back to anchor him. Jaskier crossed his arms over Geralt’s chest and rested his chin there. 

“Though we’re tethered to the story we must tell, When I saw you, well I knew we’d tell it well.”

“Is that your newest composition?” the Witcher asked, running his hand through Jaskier’s soft brown hair as he sang. The bard nodded. 

“It’s a love song. About a Witcher...and a bard.”

“Hmm. I can’t wait to hear it.”

[itsgrishaverse]

BEAST OF PREY | ANDREW DOLAN

author’s note— knowing that there’s still no given personality and full plot of the character itself yet, this is an alternate universe with its own story.

based on the idea of Andrew being a single father, a man with questionable past and twisted desires. You fall in love with him when befriending his daughter in criminology, only to regret it or maybe, desire him more.

warnings— sexual and violent content.

Word count 2k.

tag list! let me know if you’d like to be added or removed. if i’m not in yours yet, add me!

@jimmason @theneverendinghunger @chickyjess19 @angelicmichael @michaellangdonstanaccount @apocalypsebarbiee @elfilibusterismo @thewarriorprincessxo

listen to sandman by SYML.

Flames of passion arose between the unseen and shadows, embracing two bodies that same night. Despite them never touching. She, in her dreams. A fragile veil that every human touched with closed eyes. And he, in the bliss of a sadistic and unseen act. Both tangled up within a hint of pleasure and passion, for different reasons.

In her dreams, someone claimed her. A firm hand wrapped up around her throat, squeezing — just enough to bring her that certain satisfaction that ran down her body as shivers, covered by a thin veil of sweat and the male’s lips attached to her skin. Marking her. He claimed her like no one has or had she felt. His thrusts would earn whimpers of pleasure, a mess of careless sounds. It was all for the man who had her wrapped up around his finger, despite she not knowing. Perhaps she knew it. Perhaps the reason why she allowed to close eyes in such an intimate illusioned moment — with a gentle tilt of head backwards against pillows — was because she was already aware of the sight before her. It was the man with disheveled brown hair and cold eyes. Green  eyes that spoke of truth and yet hid it. Those cold, striking eyes could be easily forgiven by such a warm and cunning smile.

She woke up with a gasp, alone in the shadows of her room, fingers digging into the silk of her blankets.

In real life, that same night, Andrew’s lips claimed someone else’s skin. A female he had crossed paths with only a couple of hours ago; it carried shared drinks and compliments between each other. He invited her to head back towards his place. Only half truth dripping from his words. It was his place, but not where he currently lived or would ever have the thought to do so. A piece of land bought outside of the city a couple of years ago, unknown by his daughter, for certain reasons.

Reasons that he couldn’t speak of. Ever.

Lucky, (the name she had shared with him. Ironic, he had thought upon hearing it. A little inner joke. He knew that she was heading towards everything, but luck.) had her arms wrapped up around him, Andrew’s hand finding its way around her neck.

“What do you think Mr. Sandman will bring you tonight?” The question must have brought her confusion, the moment her eyes opened to meet his gaze with a blink. Followed by a furrow of eyebrows.

“W-what?”

It was the confusion that brought him further pleasure, in fact. Questions like this would kill the moment and he was fully aware of it. It was why he did it. There was only one allowed to taste joy out of this act and certainly, it wasn’t her. Sandman was a joke dragged for a long time now. A story that most people knew of. He heard it at its own time because of his mother, someone who brought it up to him at a younger age.

They never spoke about his mother.

“I said.” He licked over his own lips. Briefly. The grip around her neck tightened, accenting his following words. “What will he grant you tonight, Lucky? Is it luck?” The thought made his lips part; revealing a bright smile. White teeth. Mocking tone. “Your life, sex, an orgasm or dream?”

That night, a choked gasp left the woman’s lips.

━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━

“I can see that cute ass of yours from here.” Iris’ voice rang from the phone, causing (Y/N) to come to a brief half. Steps trailing off. The second she gave her surroundings a quick glance in the crowded place for an attempt to spot the familiar silhouette, she heard Iris’ gentle laugh on the phone.

“Where are you?”

“Right where you are at.” Iris answered with that usual sweet tone she often used for (Y/N). And she, with Iris. It was a bond that became deeper within the last months of friendship. Despite the social differences between both and likings for things in general. There was one thing that bonded them more. fashion.

“Right.” With a turn of direction, her head tilted to the side, still holding the phone close against her ear. She then spotted that familiar long brown curls that belonged to no else, but her friend. Standing outside one of the boutiques. She made sure to cross glances before allowing a playful malicious smirk. “Why don’t you come closer then? So I can kick your ass?”

It was her way to tell her that she was just coming from one of her preferred classes. self defense. Not that she was the best at it. Just yet.

“I think.” Her friend tapped her chin, thoughtful as the other made her way towards them. “You better come closer.”

Both phones hung up and a brief yet warm hug was shared between them. Iris chose to wear, as usual, a short dress adorned by white flowers. (Y/N) wore a pair of tight blue jeans with a black top. They wore the matching black ankle boots most of the time and that day, it was one of those times.

“I have news. Good news. It’s why I haven’t stopped calling you, if you would only answer the phone!”

It was true. She had been avoiding her phone, but for certain reasons. There was always one reason.

“I’ve been busy. Busy, investigating.” With a gentle shrug of shoulders, (Y/N) attempted to come across with a lack of interest. She knew that it’d fail before their eyes. That look coming from the other female said it all. She gave in. “And before you attempt to say something about it — NO! I won’t just leave it. It’s not my thing. It's not me. It’s not why I am studying for. I don’t care if the police haven't found anything, that’s why we have brains of our own. I have the right to think differently than everyone else.”

A sigh issued the brown-haired female’s lips, but she remained still. Listening. If there was something that passionated their friend was just that. The mystery. The horror of minds and behind acts. But she was aware that it wasn’t the main reason why they were so invested in attempting to prove something. Not to be the main one in the class or be seen as a potential future criminalist, but to release themselves. She hadn’t met (Y/N) yet back through one of the darkest times of her life, when her ex girlfriend disappeared four years ago. Since then, people going missing became worse in their city and yet, police still found nothing. Last week, someone else was reported missing. It was a pattern that she kept following, studying, getting invested in on her own. But it was something that brought her pain too. Even if they didn’t speak about that part.

“And you know that I respect it.” Iris commented, wanting to change topic. Something lighter. “Good news is that we have reserved spots for a private meeting! And you won’t believe where. Mr. Hearst’s place.”

Mr. Hearst was one of the most known men. And that meant other known people would be there. It was clear the way she didn’t see it coming.

“How?” (Y/N) whispered. Attempting to hold back the amazement. It could be the change of her life, if the right move was given. A step to something else if the right one was met. Something which Iris answered, easily.

“My father.”

Of course Andrew Dolan had something to do with it. It was both his own reputation and money that had its way into things. Her thoughts were dragged back to last night and the dreams she shared, in the dark, only with herself. The sight of Andrew in her mind; touching and claiming her had hers cheeks heat up so easily that she disliked it— not truly. 

It was just a dream. 

Of course.

Andrew was easy on the eyes and probably one of the most intelligent men she had the pleasure to meet. Iris’ father. There was something else about him; along with his remarkable features that would catch anyone’s eye. Was it the fact that he looked younger than he probably was? Or the way he’d smile and look at you with a pair of intense eyes, letting you know that he was listening to you? That his attention was on you only. Perhaps the way his long fingers would rub along his bottom lip when he seemed thoughtful or rub over his stubble.

He was always elegant despite not wanting to wear suits unlike others and polite, yet with the balance to allow himself to be playful. Banter with whomever he pleased.

In the palace of her mind he was everything, but that to her.

They walked in the store, and new clothes were bought for the upcoming night.

━━━━━━━━ ✦ ━━━━━━━━

“Is this Ms (Y/L)’s place?” The male, with chocolate curls, asked from the back seat of his car. The sight of a gray building met him, as soon as he glanced from the window.

“Yes, sir.” His driver answered with a gray tone. Politely. “It was the address given by your daughter. She asked to be picked up.”

The thought he had never been at her place before just struck him. Not that he had reasons to. (Y/N) was a friend of his daughter, thus he treated her for who and what she was. Iris held her close to her heart; he had seen it, thus she was close to his too. As long as she treated the one he cared about most right. To treat friends meant there was an invisible line that shouldn’t be crossed. It was something he could control, but his mind couldn’t.

To be aware there was a line, professional and probably morally, didn’t mean he wouldn’t think of her as the woman she was. Beautiful. Intelligent. Light of heart. The woman he had witnessed a few times and the one Iris would speak of. They are just young adults, he had thought to himself. Two friends. You shouldn’t think of her more than you should.

Truth was that he wouldn’t think of anyone in that certain way. Iris’ mother was a bad experience, but the man he allowed himself to date a few years later, was even a worse experience. Pleasure was a tasteful, truly tasteful piece, but being emotional wasn’t.

“I see. Stay here, I’ll go and get them myself.” He reached out to open his door, and stepped outside.

For the first time at the night, the sight of the moon met him. How much he found himself fond of it. The night would be illuminated by the streets lights and moonlight along. He wore a silk dark orange shirt, with a pair of black boots and pants. It matched his belt. A few of his buttons were unbuttoned, given allowance to little of the ink on his chest. A tattoo that claimed part of his chest, but most of his side. The fingers that had traced it before told stories.

He gave his golden watch a quick glance. It took Andrew just enough to ask and find the door to her apartment. A knock on the door and step backwards. Awaiting. The Andrew that had allowed himself to think of her before was no longer there, but the man they all knew him as. The father.

It opened, letting him have the pleasure of (Y/N)’s sight in a large, tight black dress. Her hair fell on her shoulders. She was speaking to her someone on the phone— but for a brief second, just a brief second Andrew didn’t care what was supposed to be said. There was no greater purpose at the moment, but to stare at her. To take her in. If the palace of his mind would keep a picture, it would be her like this. His gaze traveled from her feet, up her curves to meet her gaze. It would be the end of him to be attracted to things that shouldn’t happen. 

He held his breath back upon realizing all the time along, they were holding his gaze. Perhaps she didn’t stop staring at him either, perhaps she didn’t look away from his eyes.

She didn’t. It was the way she always looked into his eyes; how professional she felt around him. It was soft, but strong, firm. She never flinched away or looked away from him— neither did he. That’s why he always found himself intrigued. As much as she did.

And at that moment, just for a breath, that shared gaze held more than words would ever. It was unspoken. Attraction. Desire. Attention. Mutual.

He broke it first with a polite smile. A raise of eyebrows.

“You look beautiful tonight. Iris sent me your address. I’d expect both of you to be ready to leave by now. I don’t mind if we run late, but certainly they would mind.”

It took her a moment to bring herself back from it.

She didn’t look away from him, he noticed she still had her phone against her ear.

“Yes, Iris. He’s here right now.” Andrew’s eyebrows furrowed at her words. Confusion touched him as she kept talking. “Do you want to talk to him— no? oh. okay. I’ll tell him.”

There was a certain glint within eyes at the thought that he was alone, there, with her.

“Mr. Dolan! You look —- elegant.” That smile made him feel things he didn’t want to. “Iris isn’t here, she wanted to let you know she’ll be there later. Someone else will pick her up.”

Oh.

He tried another smile.

Pleased.

Wouldn’t it be a long night after such a turn?

“Then, it will be just you and I for now.”

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers GRAND EDITION for Switch ;; More, Blood ー Shuu Heaven [03]

ー The scene starts in Shuu’s bedroom

Yui: Nn...

*Rustle*

Yui: Ah...Shuu...?

Shuu: ...Aah, did I wake you?

Yui: ...No way! Were you looking at me sleeping this whole time?

( How embarrassing...! )

I wasn’t make a weird expression, right? Like, drooling and such...

Shuu: Heh...Your face always looks weird, doesn’t it?

Yui: Oh you...

Shuu: ...

Yui: ( I wonder what has gotten into him...? )

( That’s odd. He’s just staring straight at my face... )

Uhm, was it that bad? My sleeping face...

Ah, don’t tell me...Did I wake you up with my tossing and turning?

Shuu: ...No, the exact opposite.

You were lying perfect still, I thought you were dead for a second.

Yui: Eh...?

Shuu: Because you were moving so little, I got worried you might actually have died...So I kept watch this whole time.

Yui: ( Shuu... )

I won’t die so easily, you know? I’m quite sturdy despite my appearance. I haven’t fallen ill all that much either, have I?

Shuu: I wonder...Humans are fragile after all.

Say, if you were to disappear one day, I wonder what would become of me?

Yui: If I wasn’t there...? Fufu, without anyone to look after you, I feel like you’d just sleep all day long.

Shuu: Hah. Good point...

Yui: ...? Shuu, you’re acting kind of strange today...Kyah!

*Rustle*

ー He suddenly wraps his arms around her

Yui: ( Ah...He’s embracing me...! )

Shuu: Hurry up and give up your humanity already...I’d be in trouble if you were to disappear...

Yui: Nn...Shuu...

*Smooch*

Shuu: Live together with me...Yui.

*Smooch*

Yui: Nn...

Shuu: Your body should just...Become like mine already...

ー Shuu bites her

Yui: Ah...Nn...Shuu...

( I can tell that...my body is gradually changing...every time Shuu sucks my blood... )

( It’s a little scary...However...I don’t dislike it. It makes me incredibly happy... )

Shuu: What’s wrong? ...Are you crying?

It’s too late to have regrets now. I don’t plan on letting you go ever again...

Yui: Regrets, no way...

( When I’m together with Shuu, whether I die, or end up walking the path of eternal life, I’m not frightened... )

Shuu: Don’t cry...Yui. You’ll only become even more ugly.

Yui: Geez...

Shuu: ...Nn...

Nn...Even your tears are sweet...

Yui: ( Shuu’s tongue is lapping up my tears... )

Shuu: ...Nn...

Yui: ( Ah...Tracing from my chin to my throat...Moving down to my chest... )

Shuu...Suck my...blood, please...!

I want to quickly have the same body as yours...!

*Rustle*

Shuu: Heh. ...Geez...I wonder which guy taught you to start taking off your clothes by yourself like that...

Yui: Come on...It’s obviously you.

Shuu: Listen, if you ever show that expression...to another guy, I’ll kill you, got it? ...Nn...

Yui: Ah...!

( Shuu’s fangs...Feel so good... )

I would never do that...I love...Shuu...

I want to stay by your side like this forever...I want you to caress me...

...Shuu...

Shuu: ...Love you...Yui...

Yui: ( Ah...What did he say just now...? )

Shuu, could you repeat that one more time...?

Shuu: Don’t wanna...I’m not saying it.

Yui: T-That’s so unfair! Even though I said it...

Shuu: Don’t make a fuss...

*Smooch*

Yui: Ah...

Shuu: Rather than using words...Doing this will convey the message much better.

I’ll bite you all across your body...Teaching you exactly how i feel.

Yui: ...Ah...!

Shuu: Cry out more...Yui. Both your pain and pleasure all belong to me...

From here on out, forever...

ーー THE END ーー

<- [ Heaven 02 ]

[dear-yandere]

double trouble. [commission]

au. fantasy / yokai | word count. 1.6k

Onryo! Natsume Sakasaki / Oni! Ritsu Sakuma

Sunset dyed the forest rich shades of carmine and amber, washing away their beautiful greens as if beckoning an early Autumn -- a display which blurred together like mixed paint on a canvas as you ran as far as your legs would carry you. The unpleasant taste of iron bathed your throat the harder you pushed yourself past your limit, desperately running from an entity you couldn’t see. Gleeful laughter bounced off the flora like an echo chamber, your mind struggling to make sense of your surroundings the further you delved into the woodlands, the further you ran from home. You swore the branches, rocks, and even trees in your path moved aside for you, parting like a river in the presence of a goddess -- no doubt the result of the onryo’s magic.

“My little koneko-chan~” Another giggle, illusory and attenuated by his magicks. Heart crawled up your throat at the prospect of having lost him -- he sounded far, but you knew better than to let your guard down. “How adorable, thinking you’ll get far!~” He hummed, seemingly right in your ear, but you didn’t dare look over your shoulder. 

Oh, how he adored playing this game of cat and mouse! You were his beloved pet, his sweet little darling whose arrival he awaited day in and day out! Although he longed to hold you in his arms and coo at you for returning to his forest, it’d be a waste to not have some fun before he finally caught you. 

Your ankle, swollen from an earlier fall, threatened to burst as you applied pressure to it with each step, the adrenaline rushing through your veins hardly enough to numb the pain. Vision blurring with tears and exhaustion, the bitter taste of iron was difficult to ignore, proof that you’d screamed your loudest only for the forest to drown your wails.

And, all at once, it stopped.

There was a lull in air as Natsume’s laughter cut off without warning, leaving you with the faint echoes of his laughter and the otherwise deafening silence belonging to a forest you hardly knew; still, your running didn’t relent.

Not until he appeared in front of you -- not until you ran right into his arms.

“Caught you~” 

Lithe fingers, made sharp by the long fingernails of the vengeful spirit, knitted themselves in your hair. You wanted to shriek, the warmth of his chest against yours rolling off of him in waves, but his very presence was enough to paralyze you. Nails, sharp enough to cut into your flesh like knives, twined your locks between fingers that had been stained with blood far too many times, playing with your strands so gently, as if they were nothing more than tempered glass -- pretty, but far too fragile for its own good. You would have struggled, pushed him away long ago had he not cast a powerful charm which rendered your nervous system entirely useless. He smiled impishly at the way your lips still managed to tremble -- at the way even his most powerful magic couldn’t mask the fear in your eyes.

“Oh how I’ve missed my little darling!” He sung, his cascading voice joining the birdsong coming from the dense thicket of trees that surrounded you both -- trapping you in this forest with a spirit who was far too obsessed with you. “You know”, he mused as he draped your limp arms across his shoulders like lovers would. “Your spell hasn’t quite worn off since the last time I laid eyes on you, my little enchantress!”

You couldn’t speak -- whatever spell he’d cast had prohibited your vocal chords from working the way you intended, resulting in embarrassing whimpers on your part. You could only softly whine as he needily nuzzled into the delicate space between your shoulder and neck. “I love you so much, being apart is always so painful!” 

Another whimper, this time complimented by his soft laughter. He was terrifying as always, but his voice nonetheless held an ethereal lilt that lowered your defenses and drew you in. You suppose that’s how he lured in his victims, though it still baffled you why’s he taken such a keen interest in you rather than kill you off.  You weren’t sure if you should feel grateful or frightful, but the idea of someone taking any interest in a lowly village girl was oddly comforting.

If only you attracted the affections of humans. Trouble seemed to follow you wherever you went, almost always under the guise of a playful spirit with far too much time on his hands.

“Ah, why don’t you stay here with me?” His voice rose in pitch, a testament to how wonderful he found that idea. He’d always be by your side! Always holding your hand, sniffing your hair, nuzzling into your warmth, inhaling your sweet scent -- oh what heaven that’d be! “You don’t have to return to your village, I’m sure they’d understand!” He excitedly chirped, liquid gold eyes sparkling with unadulterated admiration and glee.“After all, what we have is true love!”

He took your lack of response as a resounding yes. “Don’t you agree, little koneko-chan?”

“What a disgusting name, onryo.” Ritsu interjected, throwing his fan at Natsume. The fan simply phased through the spirit before curving through the air and returning to the demon. Ritsu clicked his teeth together, baring his fangs with a look of sheer disgust. “Why do you insist on calling my darling Riko that?”

“And why do you insist on ruining my time with my darling koneko-chan, oni?”

Ritsu hopped from the tree branch, easily landing on his feet with otherworldly grace. You whimpered again at the arrival of yet another stalker, noticing that Natsume’s magic seemed to wear off whenever he diverted his attention; however, eyeing your surroundings for a potential escape quickly proved fruitless as Ritsu strode over to you both and listlessly removed Natsume’s hold on your waist. The spot which Natsume’s arms held immediately grew warmer, the coldness of his ethereal form no longer sapping your heat; of course, Ritsu’s own arm slipped around your waist and tugged you toward him possessively. Natsume scoffed indignantly, fingers immediately curling around your own.

“Why are you here, oni?” Joy had bled from Natsume’s voice upon your other admirer’s arrival. He knew the demon would appear sooner or later, and although the two more or less got along -- enough to share you, as they’d lovingly discussed last time you wandered too far into the forest -- the onryo much preferred he didn’t appear at all.

“It’s my turn.” Ritsu simply stated, smile bordering predatory as he tucked your arms around his waist, body pressed up against yours in a display of dominance toward the other yokai. “Isn’t that right, darling? You must’ve missed me if you wandered back into this forest knowing I’d find you without a problem.”

“T-that’s not true...”, you shyly managed now that you weren’t looking into Natsume’s eyes. Ritsu, luckily, didn’t possess magic that paralyzed you -- not that it mattered when either yokai could catch you before you met the forest’s edge. “T-this is the safest path to the neighboring village.”

“Is that so?” He hummed thoughtfully, the sunset perfectly complimenting his scarlet-red eyes. “I don’t believe you, darling. With monsters like us wandering around, this couldn’t possibly be the safest path.” His eyes caught on your lips, eyeing the delicate skin far too long for your liking. “Admit it -- you belong here with me, you’re just too shy to say it.” Scarlet eyes captured yours, their colors so bright it made your stomach twist with the realization of how powerless you were in this situation. Both of your stalkers in the same vicinity -- the tension so palpable you could hardly breathe. “It’s alright to admit you want to be loved, darling. Go on -- give me permission to love you, as if it’s the only thing you can say.”

“I-I...I c..can’t”, you nearly choked, head starting to spin under the overwhelming pressure, the very presence of two powerful spirits enough to drain what little spiritual energy you’d retained. The weight of Ritsu’s body pressed against yours, the pain of Natsume’s claws digging into your skin -- it was all too much. “P...please let me go, I--”

“Hush, darling. Don’t be like that.” His lips brushed against yours, fangs eagerly gnawing against the delicate flesh -- whether teasing a kiss or a bite, you weren’t sure. “Here, let me help...”, he mused, lips close enough to--

Natsume growled, golden eyes flashing a dangerous shade of red -- the very sight of Ritsu making himself far too comfortable with you, in front of him no less, made his blood boil. Nails all but pierced your skin as his grip tightened around your wrist, harshly tugging you from the demon’s grasp and back into his embrace. 

Ritsu’s eyes narrowed with annoyance, as if realizing Natsume was still there. “Didn’t you hear me, onryo? We had an agreement -- it’s my turn.”

“Can’t you see she’s worn out, oni?”

“And whose fault is that?”

Natsume chewed on his bottom lip, brows furrowed as he gazed so lovingly down at you. Your cheeks were flush, eyes heavy with exhaustion and hints of pain as the adrenaline wore off. His eyes flitted to your swollen ankle, feeling a sense of guilt at what he’d caused. “I... I admit this is my fault, but we need to help her at least.”

Ritsu relented, clicking his tongue impatiently. “Fine. She did say this was the safest route.” He smiled at the thought, flashing an almost sadistic glance your way. “We might as well keep her -- she’ll be much safer with us.”

“...For once I agree with you, oni.”

[cyberghouleo]

Fallen For You {smut}

Pairing: Bakugou x Reader

Words: 4.3k

AO3 Link:

Fantasy! Bakugou ruins the innocence of a cute lil angel :)

When Bakugou found your body lying in the empty grass field as you were what he presumed to be dead, he never expected himself to save you and allow you to live within his castle. He thought you were just going to be the next meal for a pack of hungry wolves or was just a trap set by another kingdom as a way to capture him. But when you woke up and told him that you were actually a fallen angel and had no memory of where you were, that’s when he realized just how real and rare the situation he was in. In all his years of ruling his castle and growing up, he never expected to come across an angel, only hearing those stories from old myths and stories that parents would tell their children before bedtime. The cross that was branded into your shoulder only strengthen your story and proved you weren’t lying, truly capturing how innocent and unharmed you had been throughout your life.

Going against his morals and setting his pride aside for the moment, he quickly took you in and tossed you onto the red dragon that accompanied him, taking you with him to the castle to not only give you a home, but a way to be safe. As much as people wanted to act like the world was full of perfect beings and everyone was morally right, he also knew just how many sick fuckers there were and how they would waste no time into selling you at some dirty market in the town. And for once he decided to take and protect another person, despite only knowing you for a few moments and being a complete stranger.

From there, everything was going great for you. You were given a new home that was not only clean and well-kept, but it was also gigantic and definitely had enough room for you to live there comfortably. When you tried to thank him and tell him that he didn’t need to do this for you, he only rolled his eyes and shrugged you off, clearly not wanting to hear your appreciation for his help. You now had a place to be safe, get fed, and be able to clean off and it was all free to you. You were beyond grateful for him, and the fact that he was also attractive didn’t help this situation. Although for him, this was torture. He told himself that he was only doing this because he was being nice that day, not because he found you a bit more likeable than others that he had met. He would actively ignore your compliments just so he wouldn’t have more fuel for these new and sudden feelings for you.

But as time progressed and he had already spent a few weeks with you in his castle, they got worse. Almost to the point where he ordered everyone to treat you the same as him, making sure you were fed and safe from anyone that dared tried to attack or ruin your innocence. As time went on, he also slowly became more open to you since you were by his side most of the time, he never ordered you or made you do chores so you opted to hang out with him instead of being constantly bored in your room. Whenever you tried to thank him for letting you stay with him, he would only huff and say something along the lines of “I had no choice, it was either that or you would get killed,” or “Stop thinking what I did was so nice, you would have gotten sold if I wasn’t there so it was the only logical thing, dumbass.” Regardless of his answer, you would still smile back at him, something that killed him on the inside.

One day while you were sitting next to his throne, you realized you never learned his full name, and that he never learned yours. All you knew was that his servants referred to him as King Bakugou, but you wanted to know more being that you were going to be with him for a long time, possibly forever.

“Ya know Bakugou,” you stared, his eyes glancing at you when you randomly started to speak. “I have been around you all this time and you never once told me your full name or learned mine. So, wanna spill?”

He only huffed and shook his head, a long silence following him afterwards. You took this as your answer and looked away from him, going back to mindlessly staring around the room.

“Katsuki,”

You turned your head towards him again when you heard his answer before speaking, “Huh?”

“My name. Katsuki Bakugou.” he stated again, keeping his gaze straight forward and away from yours.

You smiled brightly at his answer, a feeling of excitement flowing through you now that you knew you were getting closer to the grumpy blonde. “Oh, well mine is (Y/N)!” you responded cheerfully.

If you had been paying closer attention you would have heard him speak a soft “I know.” under his breath. He learned your name during the first week you arrived, overhearing his servants talking to one another about you, he just never found a reason to outright ask you about it. From then on, his feelings for you were starting to get more apparent to himself, the thoughts of you filled his mind daily and almost every time before he would fall asleep. Thoughts like, how your smile absolutely killed him, how you were able to make your way into his heart so easily, what would have happened if he never decided to take you. Thoughts like those were tossed around his head often, although he never put much thought into them and tried to push them back as far as possible, figuring that if he avoided them then they would just go away. But oh how wrong he was. Soon the thoughts started to become darker and naughtier. Thoughts like how you would sound under him, or how you tasted on his tongue, or how you would beg for him to please you. Thoughts like those frustrated to him on no end, only making his situation worsen as the days went on.

After it had been a few months of you staying with him, he had had it. He was going to take a dip into the water and see if you at least felt the same towards him. If he didn’t act upon his thoughts soon, it was going to kill him. It was early in the afternoon when he told one of his servants to ask you to come to his room and for the others to take the day off and find themselves entertained with something other than the two of you. You entered the room and closed the door behind you, finding it odd that he would request to see you here and not by his throne. But you figured it was just something that wasn’t important and went along with it. As he started to walk towards you, you noticed that his windows were half cracked as a soft breeze came in.

His eyes followed up your body, finding you clothed in the same damn white dress he met you in, the one you persisted on wearing all the time, although he was also the one that demanded for it to be washed carefully with how much he knew you liked it. It was flowing freely off you, your small cross necklace hanging from your neck and sat in the middle of your cleavage. Your expression showing that you were painfully oblivious to the type of thoughts he was having right now. You only tilted your head slightly as you saw his eyes started to darken up, expecting him to start ranting about one of his servants. But he didn’t. 

His hand found and embraced your’s, tracing the back of it with his thumb as he continued to stare at you. His sudden gesture would have caused you to tense up, but now that you have been around him for a few weeks already, your body was starting to accept his touches without flinching. You were the first to break the gaze, looking down at your hand as his fingers slowly started trailing up to your forearm and still rubbing the small circles. You gave a soft smile to the feeling; it had been so long since you felt another humans touch that wasn’t rough. This was really the first time you were even touched this softly by another man. Soon his other hand wrapped around your waist, just lazily resting there as he stared at you. The sunlight peeking through the half-opened curtain was hitting your face perfectly, the wind lightly blowing your hair back and away from your face. If the growing pressure from his pants wasn’t this painful and straining, he would have loved to be able to permanently burn this image of you into his memory. As he continued to admire you, his hand went further up until it was perched near your shoulder, his fingers still moving in the same pattern as before. Your dress sleeve was starting to fall slightly, allowing him to let his fingers brush against your now exposed collarbone while his hand was still wrapped tightly around you.

God this was going agonizingly slow for him.

Right now, all he wanted to do was to take your innocence right then and there, ripping off your clothes and throwing you onto the bed to pound for several rounds. But he knew you. And he knew that he would have to slowly introduce you into these new feelings before he could ever go full speed. He had to remind himself that he was still the rough and savage beast of a king that had a blunt and spiteful mouth, and you were just the fragile angel -literally- that just so happened to fall into his rough hands. Two complete opposites that just so happened to cross paths and lead him to this lucky moment right now.

You looked up at him, your faces now inches away from each other. You smiled softly again, looking back down at your feet to avoid his hungry like looks. His hand moved from your shoulders to his neck, skipping up to your jawline and skimming over until he reached your chin. He tilted your head up, forcing you to look at him as his now dark crimson eyes stared back, full of emotion and something else you couldn’t figure out at the exact moment.

“(Y/N),” he stared, his breath fanning over you as he spoke. “Do you trust me?”

You thought about his question. You thought back to when he rescued you from almost dying, to when he took you into his extravagant castle just so you could have a place to sleep at night. You thought back to when he didn’t use your hidden identity for his own good, and didn’t throw you out to the local shopkeeper for a few extra coins. You thought about how he had gone through so much just to make sure you were safe and protected, and most importantly, felt at home. And you thought back to now, as he touched and held you in ways you would have never thought you would have allowed, remembering when you would wince away from any sudden movement of his.

“Yes Bakugou,” as you spoke his eyes widen slightly, this was the first time he heard you say his name, and he loved it. “I do trust you, one hundred percent.”

He smirked as you said this, pulling your waist closer to him as he drew your lips to him. You felt the movement and instinctively closed your eyes, both of your lips meeting in a soft yet passionate kiss. You wrapped your arms around his neck, letting him take full control of the kiss as you followed in suit. The grip on your waist only got tighter, soft moans instinctively slipping from your mouth.

He pulled away, briefly noticing how heated your cheeks had already gotten, your lips looking even redder and plumper than before. He moved down towards your jawline, tilting your head away from him as he began to press quick and light kisses on the underside of your jaw. As he made his way down, he began to suck on your neck, making you tighten your hold around his neck and let out a soft whimper. He growled against your neck, your quiet noises only making his blood pump faster and his dick to start getting even harder.

“Let me take you then.” He said in between a growl, his sucking and biting starting to leave a mark on your pretty untouched skin.

You blushed at his words, embarrassment hitting you as you started to realize what he meant. “O-Okay.” you stuttered out, barely able to get the words out as your whole face felt like it was set ablaze.

Now that he was given full consent, he stopped holding back. He moved along your neck to make another mark, already pleased with how the first one had turned out to be. This time he was rougher, feeling him groan against your neck as he started to relentlessly suck against your soft skin. The feeling of his past statement and his nips towards your delicate skin almost made you feel light headed with a new underlying desire. It made your chest bubble up with excitement, almost as if you wanted to laugh out loud. But it also filled you with a sense of closure and sentiment towards the blonde. This was the first time anyone had been this affectionate towards you, or even another male being this close and pressed up to your body that wasn’t a friend. After effectively marking your neck for the second time, he pulled back to admire the now red and bruised looked mark, just more proof that he was slowly starting to deteriorate at the innocence you’ve had your whole life. Proof that he was going to be the one, and only one, ruining you tonight. The seemingly cold air against the new and hot mark made you let out a gasp, your hold on his neck never leaving.

He pulled back from you completely, just far enough for arms reach as he looked you up and down, like a hunter admiring its newly trapped prey. He quickly and roughly grabbed the back of your head, pulling your lips towards his before they clashed, causing a rough but fueled with passion kiss. He kept a hand tangled within your soft hair, his other trailed down to your dress straps and started to strip your shoulders from the cloth. After having to pause the intense make out session for a quick moment so he could fully let your dress sleeves come down, his rough hands started to grope the breasts that were still behind the lacey bra you were quite fond of.

He pulled away from your lips, his full attention was now focused on your chest and the movements of his hands. He quickly found himself getting bored with the groping and opted for the best and quickest way to fully touch you. His hands were positioned on either side of your chest, before he pulled his hands apart with enough force to rip the lacy bralette, a whine of frustration leaving your mouth. Now that your chest was fully exposed to him, he made quick work and attached his mouth to your bud, swirling his tongue around as he teased you. His warm and wet tongue made you gasp, your hands resting at the base of his neck as you threw your head back, arching your back closer towards him in the sudden pleasure. You could feel the faint pressure of his breathing on your chest as he continued to grope and suck on you, a feeling you were starting to enjoy the longer it went on. He didn’t let up with his sucking once he switched over to your other breast, showing it just the same amount of roughness and affection. You let out some soft moans and whimpers from his movements, thankful that the bedroom door was closed so none of the embarrassing noises could seep throughout the castle’s hall.

He pulled back from your breast and started to tug down the rest of your dress, eventually leaving you standing in only your panties. Your dress pooled around your ankles; his hand outstretched to help you step out of the removed garment. Your fingers wrapped around his perfectly, his body still keeping itself warmer than yours, another trait about him you started to get used to and appreciate. He brought you into a close embrace, his arms fully wrapped around you as he muttered a quick “jump,” and gave the back of your upper thigh a soft pat. You jumped into his arms, your legs attached around his lower abdomen and your arms back around his neck again. You snuggled closer into his neck with your eyes closed, feeling each of his footsteps as he walked over to his bed, an arm wrapped tightly around your waist and the other positioned underneath your thighs as support.

Once he reached his bed and his footsteps seized, he let go of you. Your body fell back gently onto the king-sized bed that was covered in various animal fur blankets, there for both warmth and a way to show off his prideful hunting skills. You brought your arms up to your chest, covering them in embarrassment as he stood over you almost fully clothed. The breeze from the partially opened window washed over your body, your nipples perking up again as the white lace canopy that hung from his tall bed posts swayed with the breeze, making the whole scene look even more angelic and innocent to him. He leaned over you, almost straddling your body as he pried away your hands, pinning them down next to your shoulders. He planted a few soft kisses across your neck and chest.

“What a cute little angel,” he praised against your skin in between kisses. You felt your cheeks heat up again, but for a different reason now.

After a few more kisses, he removed his grip from your wrists and started to trail down your stomach, stopping once he reached the waistband of your panties. He smirked once he noticed that they matched the bra of your’s he had just destroyed. He traced his fingers against your folds, already feeling how wet you were against the fabric and how desperate your whines for him started to sound. If he wasn’t feeling this needy for your body, he would have teased you about it, but that would have to be saved for another time. A time where he wasn’t feeling this type of hungry towards someone. He soon got bored with the teasing, forcing the panties to meet the same fate it’s matching partner was met with.

Now with your body on full display for him, he quickly got to work with warming you up. He brought up two fingers to his mouth, his tongue leaving a long strip of saliva against him before he started to stroke you again. Your hips bucked up in pleasure from the contact, the feeling of his fingers and his warm spit was new and almost addicting. His fingers started to pick up your wetness, allowing him to be able to slowly insert his finger into you. You let out a gasp at the new presence, feeling him start to pump in and out of you while his thumb rubbed against your clit in small circles. You felt as he slipped another finger in as you let out an embarrassingly loud moan, the feeling of his fingers curling up against your walls was starting to get to you. Your fingers gripped the bed sheets tightly, feeling his pride swell even more with how worked up you were getting with only his fingers.

“Aw, look how wet you’re getting just from my fingers,” he teased as he stared up at your form, your breasts bouncing as your body rocked with his movements and your head thrown back in the pile of pillows behind you. “You look like your about to cum at any moment, and we haven’t even gotten to the real shit.” You only moaned back at his comment, not having enough energy to form a response.

Right as you felt yourself start to tighten up around him, he removed all his fingers and pulled away you completely, making you whine out of annoyance. He stood up and finally started removing his pants as he continued to stare at your body, your chest heaving up in down as a result from the skillful work of his fingers and your cheeks red from both pleasure and embarrassment. He palmed himself outside his boxers a few times, he couldn’t wait any longer and he was hoping you were feeling the same. After a few more strokes, he quickly shed himself of the last layer of clothing, freeing his almost painfully throbbing boner. He took a hold of your ankles, giving a tug and drug your body closer to the end of the bed. Your legs were spread out on both sides of him as he started to line himself up with you, the anticipation was going to ruin him if he went any slower than he was already. He started to insert his tip, making you gasp out when you realize just how big and thick he really was. Slowly but surely, he sheathed himself until he was fully into you, noticing how tense and nervous you looked underneath him.

He leaned down to you, his arms caging you as he stared. “Relax,” he said in a deep but soft voice, the suggestion coming out more as a demand than anything. “Just relax, the more tense you are the worst it'll feel.” you nodded at his reassurance, you were starting to enjoy seeing the softer side that you had rarely seen up until this point. After a few moments of feeling your body start to relax, you gave him a small nod and he started to pull back his hips.

He slowly pushed himself back in, picking up speed with each thrust into your tight hole. The feeling of his dick moving in and out of you was starting to drive you crazy, feeling ten times better than when he was fingerfucking you. You moaned out against him, the sounds only making his cock harder as he started to quicken up his pace. His fingers started to grip into your hips, only helping him as he started to pound relentlessly into you. He watched the way your tits bounced up and down with each harsh thrust, the delicate silver chain from your cross necklace bouncing with you, only making the feeling of ruining your soft innocence even better. As much as he wanted to continue to fuck you into his mattress, the sounds of your breathy moans and how you were tightening up around him was starting to force himself to come closer on edge than he was used to.

“Fuck (Y/N).... you want me to keep ruining you… to keep making you a slut,” He grunted out, watching as you closed your eyes and moaned out while nodding along.

“Please Katsuki.. keep going,” you whined out, wrapping your legs around him as he continued to pound away into your virgin pussy.

“Please what? Use your words…ngh.. beg for it, beg to be my slut~” his thrusts started to slow down while he awaited your response.

“Please, ruin me… please make me your slut.” he didn’t wait for another second before he started to pound into you again, slowly letting himself start to let go of his control.

His hand wrapped around your neck, not applying any pressure but resting there almost as another way to show he was in complete control of you at the moment. Whimpers were spilling from your mouth and a feeling like fireworks awaking inside you as you felt yourself starting to cum, tightening around him which only made him let out a low and deep groan. He felt his balls start to tighten up and tried to pull out, but you tighten your thigh’s grip around his waist and quickly reached down to grab his cock, forcing himself back into you as he came. Thick stripes of his cum filled up your pussy, making your legs twitch at the warmth feeling of him claiming you.

“H-Holy shit,” He spoke lowly, feeling both turned on and shocked by you forcing him to cum inside you. After coming down from his high, he tried to catch his breath and ran a hand through his now sweaty hair, letting his palm rest over his eyes as he took a moment to take a rest.

Your legs were rested back down beside you, allowing him to be able to pull out and watched the combination of the both of your cum drip out of you. He laid down beside you and covered both of your bodies with a warm blanket, pulling you against him as your body started to tire itself out. You turned around to face him, pressing a quick kiss to his neck and gave him a soft smile.

“Thank you Katsuki,” your blinks were starting to slow down as your head rested against his bicep, allowing your body to take in the afterglow.

“Yea yea, whatever, just go to sleep angel.” he mumbled, looking away from you to hide the obvious blush that was coating his cheeks.