#would you guys sell your soul to protect your family?

[insxghtt]

the rage of a mother II — aemond targaryen x reader

You once told Aemond that you cannot escape the rage of a grieving mother. He wished he had listened.

warnings: angst, blood, grief, death, i honestly don’t know what this is but it’s sad.

this is a “part 2″ of this request. idk if i’m gonna turn this into a fanfic but i was just feeling it. it’s small, there will be another part if you guys want to. english is not my first language so i’m sorry if you find some mistakes. hope you like it!

One month had passed since the night the two men broke into your home and tried to take your daughter away from you. It took Rhaenyra one month to come up with a new plan. This time was different because now she knew what you were capable of doing just to protect your child.

The rules did not seem to matter anymore. At least, not for Rhaenyra. She had to play with new cards. You would never let anyone get close to your daughter except for yourself and your husband. It would take more than two men, more than a whole army. She needed the gods to help her.

It didn’t matter if those gods were not from the light.

Part of Rhaenyra didn't believe the witch of the woods would be able to bend the rules of nature enough to enter your castle. The other part knew that, if she did, she’d be selling her soul to the darkness. But what difference would that make? The pain of losing a child already seemed to swallow all the light inside of her.

Aemond could still hear you crying. The maids had warned him about his wife’s delusions. You were screaming next to the crib, where your child was lying. Her body that was so warm just minutes ago was now freezing cold.

“The witch!”, you yelled with thick tears streaming down your cheeks. “The witch took my baby!”

He’d spend the rest of his life remembering that moment. The day he had his daughter taken away from him.

She was dead. An innocent little girl killed because of her father’s mistakes.

But that night he didn’t just lose his daughter, he lost part of his wife too. Some said you've gone mad being in the presence of something so evil and powerful. You heard your baby crying inside the walls of the castle, like she was asking for help.

You also heard what your husband’s family said about you. “There was no witch. The grief makes people see things.”  

The only one who believed you was Aemond and he had to see you become just as cold and angry as Rhaenyra Targaryen. And, suddenly, the war was not about a throne anymore. It was about two mothers with thirst of blood.

“You cannot escape the rage of a grieving mother”, you said once.

He wished he had listened.

part III

[cakerybakery]

I’d like to write a one shot about Adam being reborn on Earth and becoming a priest. I had a story idea a few months about about a priest that agrees to meetings each week with the devil to save his congregation, that would be a fun premise for getting Adam and Lucifer to fuck. Especially if combined with that temptation war AU I was thinking about the other day.

It’s Lucifer and Lilith’s turn to pick a vice vs virtue and as they lost Lust to Chasity a few rounds ago so they’re going to try it again. Adam and Eve have chosen to born into highly religious families with the goals of becoming members of the cloth once they’re adults again to resist the temptation of lust.

Lucifer and Lilith wait until Adam and Eve have grown up again. Part of the rules. Just as Adam and Eve will only be born with the vague feeling that they’re doing something important, Lucifer and Lilith cannot tempt them as children. Should Adam or Eve die or sin before they’re considered adults with all the rights and responsibilities required to be an adult then it would be a tie for the round and their sins would not count as Lilith and Lucifer aren’t tempting them.

Eve grows up to become a nun. She chose well and resists the temptations of hell her whole life. Much to the frustration of Lilith.

Adam grows up to become a priest but when members of his congregation sell their souls to the devil for things such as wealth, power, or talent and the devil comes a calling Adam is desperate to protect his people.

“Then let’s make a deal. So long as you meet with me I’ll leave your sinners alone. Perhaps one day you’ll convince me to let their souls go. Although I’d rather add a priest to the notches on my bedpost.”

Adam takes a step back from the devil’s out stretched hand. He couldn’t believe people in his congregation had made deals for their souls to this man, nor could he believe he was taller than the devil by a few inches. He always seemed bigger in the stories.

Were a few sinners worth risking his soul? His place in heaven? The devil’s deal said nothing about his soul and he did not plan to have sex until marriage he could be confident that he couldn’t be tempted into the sin. The devil was hardly his type. While he was partial to blonds, but he also liked it when they came with tits. He wasn’t in any danger of finding this guy attractive.

“Deal.” Adam took Lucifer’s hand and they shook on it.

“I will come every Sunday night. From 7 pm until 7 am your time is mine. Play your cards right and you’ll be cumming to.” Lucifer winked and vanished.

Adam’s hand burned. He hoped his congregation was worth it.

Sunday came and he put extra emphasis on people needing to resist the devil and his temptation. Hoping at least to not lose more to the short bastard.

He waited back at his small apartment that evening, wondering how he was going to entertain the king of hell for twelve hours. Did he need to stay up all night? What was the devil even going to do? Should he put on a movie? Adam had been on a few dates before, but he’d never been as nervous about them as he was about this meeting.

A date he could navigate. He planned to be a priest most of his life. He always made that clear and that a date was simply a date and he had no plans to have sex before marriage. Some girls he just never clicked with and they didn’t date for long. One he thought he would marry but she left the church and him. She’s apparently happy with a family of her own on the other side of the country, according to Facebook anyways.

This was unusual to say the least. He prepared a sermon but if the devil couldn’t be swayed by god what chance did he have? What would they discuss? What could they discuss if the devil’s goal was to bed him? Would he have to spend twelve hours trying to push the devil’s hands off him? Telling him no and trying to squirm away?

Adam caught sight of himself in the mirror, his face was turning pink, he hadn’t realized he was biting his own lip. That wasn’t good. Was there a reason things never clicked with women?

His clock began to chime and there was a knock on the door, tearing him from his thoughts.

Opening the door, Adam didn’t know what to expect. Lucifer wore a casual suit for their meeting, the top few buttons undone, hatless, he pressed a small bouquet of flowers into Adam’s hands and carried a bottle of wine.

Adam could feel his face burning red. This was a date. He was on a date with the devil in his apartment.

“Going to invite me in, darling?” Lucifer winked up at him and Adam stumbled back tongue-tied.

“Co-come in.” What had he done? This was bad. This was a bad time to be figuring out that maybe he was more into men than he thought.

He shook his head, no. He wasn’t into guys. He wasn’t interested in men last week. This had to be some trick of the devil. A trick of the rather handsome devil taking off his suit jacket and rolling his shirt sleeves up and talking to him about glasses? He didn’t wear glasses. Why did the devil want to know where his glasses were?

Lucifer held up the bottle looking as confused as Adam was feeling and it clicked.

“I don’t have wine glasses! I-I don’t drink, much.” He had the occasionally beer but never really acquired a taste for it and it was more to be polite than anything.

He also didn’t have a vase. No one had ever given him flowers before and he never bought any for himself. Where should he put this? What did he do?

Almost like he was taking pity on him, Lucifer flashed him a soft smile that made Adam’s heart race, and brushed past Adam to go into the kitchen.

He opened and closed cupboards until he found the glasses and pulled a couple down.

“This will do.” Lucifer poured them some wine, “shall we have dinner? I’m a fantastic cook.”

Adam left the flowers propped up in the sink and filled it with the tap until he could find something else for the flowers to go in.

He hadn’t thought about dinner. For the past couple hours he had been fretting over what to say and skipped his own supper. Adam had been too busy to do much shopping either.

“How about take out?”

“It would give me more time to seduce you.” Lucifer’s hand groped Adam’s ass and Adam jumped.

“You know what,” Adam backed out of the kitchen, “you should cook.”

Lucifer just smiled, “anything you say, dear.”

Adam retreated to the living room while the devil cooked in his kitchen. His classes never prepared him for this. It was always more theoretical and metaphorical. The devil tempting you with the easy path, not by coming to your apartment with flowers and wine, not by cooking you dinner and groping your ass.

He talked to Adam. Asked him questions about his life. Spoke to Adam as though he had known him all his life. Like this wasn’t the first time the devil tried to seduced him.

Adam knew he didn’t have ribs in the fridge but there they were on a plate. He didn’t have apples either, but there was a pie. Adam wasn’t sure he had most of the ingredients used in the meal and wondered if he would be damned if he ate it.

“It’s fine. I conjured what I needed.” Lucifer poured himself another glass, “you’re not Persephone and damned to the under world if you eat my cooking.”

Still, Adam picked at the food, the man telling him this was the prince of lies. He could easily be lying.

“If it was easy cooking you a meal then I wouldn’t need twelve hours.”

Adam supposed that was true. But the truth could be as effective as a lie if told properly. His stomach growled and he took a bite.

Fuck. It was delicious. Adam dug in vaguely aware that Lucifer was watching him.

“You humans have a saying. ‘The way to a man’s heart is through his stomach.’ And I get the feeling of if I want into your bed it’ll have to be through your heart. So I’m glad you’re enjoying my cooking so much.”

Adam felt a foot run up and down his leg and quickly pushed himself back away from the table. He finished his supper awkwardly far from the table and his plate as quickly as he could. Before slamming back his glass of wine.

“How about we watch a movie?” Without waiting for an answer Adam left the table and dishes. Something he wasn’t prone to doing on his own. He switched on the tv and clicked through some menus and screens to turn on the first movie he found. Adam sat ridged in an armchair. Assuming Lucifer would be unable to touch him if the seat was for one.

He was wrong.

Lucifer sat in his lap. “All you have to do is tell me no.” He sunk his fingers into Adam’s hair and cozied up close.

Adam’s tongue wouldn’t work. He couldn’t say no. He didn’t want to say no. “I’m waiting until marriage!”

Lucifer kissed his neck as Adam clung to the arm rests like a lifeboat in the sea.

Lucifer’s hands wandered and Adam could only whimper. When they reached Adam’s belt he found his voice. “Marry me!”

Pausing his hands, Lucifer pulled away from Adam’s neck, “what?”

“Marry me. You want to fuck a priest? Then marry me. You can fuck me as much as you want then. But you have to let my congregation go.”

“That! I! Uhh!”

Adam grabbed Lucifer by the waist and kissed him for all he was worth. Lucifer twisted his hands into Adam’s sweater and returned the kiss, “okay.” Was all he could say when Adam pulled away.

Lucifer’s face was flushed and eyes half closed, Adam saw his chance. He continued his assault on the devil’s lips and texted with one hand to John, a fellow priest, to bring his wife and to come over quick.

It didn’t need to be legal. Not in the eyes of the government. It wasn’t like the fucking devil could sign paperwork. But they could make it official in the eyes of the lord.

John held Adam’s spare key and let his wife and himself into Adam’s apartment.

The sight was more horrific than either had imagined. They had thought perhaps Adam had hurt himself and didn’t want to go to the hospital. Mary was a nurse after all. They expected blood and stitches. Not to see a demon pinned to the floor by Adam. Their necks red with hickies, disheveled, and leftover dinner still warm on the table.

“What the fuck, Adam?”

“Marry us. Quickly.”

“What?”

“I’ll tell you later. I have the-the paper thingy in my desk with,” Adam groaned as the devil rubbed them together. “Words and shit! Just do it!”

John did as he was told. Speeding through to the vows.

“Names! What’s his name?”

“Lucifer Morningstar.” The devil laughed.

John fumbled with the papers. Not a demon but the very king of hell himself.

He finished the vows they said their I do’s and Adam screamed at him to get out.

Mary prayed in the car as they drove home. He didn’t know what unholy deed he had just been apart of but he couldn’t escape the feeling that he had just helped someone or something greater than himself. He couldn’t figure out if it was for the side of good or evil.

The deed was done, Adam let Lucifer go and let himself be ravaged.

His favourite sweater was torn beyond repair in Lucifer’s quest for more flesh to assault with his hands and mouth. His pants would never recover. He let himself be carried to his bed and pressed into it.

Adam briefly realized this was going to be his first time and that the devil was unlikely to let him top. When he pictured this moment, his wedding night, this was nothing like he imagined. At the very least he assumed he would be the one doing the fucking.

Those thoughts vanished as Lucifer’s mouth engulfed his dick whole.

Very suddenly he didn’t care. Not if Lucifer kept doing that thing with his tongue. He could feel himself being worked open and wondered very briefly what his husband was using, then Lucifer did that thing with his tongue and the thought was gone.

Adam didn’t know, Adam didn’t care, Adam just wanted more, Adam was rewarded with it.

He writhed and screamed out, he was sure the neighbours would call the police.

It was only after, as they lay gasping in his bedsheets, that it occurred to Adam what he had done.

“You win.” Lucifer pried himself up from the bed. “This round is yours, Adam.”

Memories flooded back. Eden, heaven, hell, the war they were waging that rested on the shoulder’s of he and Eve.

“I didn’t think flowers and dinner would work that fast.”

“You prick! You fucking bastard! You tricked me!” Adam hit Lucifer with a pillow.

“Well, yeah. That’s my lot in this war.” He let Adam hit him, knowing that Adam was embarrassed. It wasn’t like a pillow could actually harm him and they both knew it.

Adam exhausted himself. He was a bit sore and emotionally drained. “What do you mean I won?”

“This round was lust. I was trying to get you to give into having pre-marital sex. I have to admit, I was so flabbergasted by you actually calling over someone who could marry us that I went with it.”

“Aren’t you already married? Doesn’t that mean we’re not married? Shouldn’t you have won that round?”

Lucifer shrugged. “Kinda. Not on Earth though. And you didn’t know about my marriage to Lilith. But you remember and so long as Eve doesn’t give in before she dies, then this round goes to heaven.”

“It’s weird. To remember while I’m still alive.”

“Yeah, usually I get your whole life to tempt you. If you marry then I tempt you with cheating. Or whatever. This was a loophole I didn’t see coming.”

Adam wasn’t sure what to do now. He should probably explain things to John. But how much? What did this mean for Lucifer and him? Apparently what they did was good enough for God to declare Adam the victor. So he was, in this life and in the eyes of God, married to Lucifer. Oh this life’s father would be pissed if he knew.

He started laughing as ideas came to him. He should go back home to his parent’s place, show up with his husband, the fucking devil. That would be hilarious.

What would his congregation think? Well, seeing as a few of them made deals with the devil he could just leave out the wage between heaven and hell and let them all know their slate had been wiped clean and it was thanks to him bending over.

Fuck it. Adam flopped down onto the bed. He would worry about it later.

Lucifer rolled closer, “sooo, you want to cuddle?”

Adam shoved him off the bed.

“That wasn’t a no!”

—-

For fuck’s sake! I wasn’t trying to write a story! Who keeps letting me have ideas?

[animeredhead101]

Dick Grayson / Danny Fenton Masterlist

Complete

Holding Me Now in Hand by DisillusionedDanny :

After Tim Drake tells his family about his new insane chemistry teacher, Dick Grayson decides to do some investigation himself. What he wasn't expecting was to instantly fall in love with the chaotic science teacher. Danny had managed to make a new life for himself in this new dimension as a science teacher at Gotham Academy. He had a fulfilling life, teaching the kids of Gotham how to survive on the streets and then at night protecting the bats who roamed the streets. Now, to make things even better, he had somehow caught the attention of Dick Grayson. If Danny had to be honest, his life was going pretty great for him. Now he just needed the other shoe to drop. Word Count: 67,299

Emergency Contact by DisillusionedDanny :

Bruce Wayne is shocked to find out that he is not his son's emergency contact after Dick is involved in a standoff.

Color him surprised when he learns that his son has been keeping secrets from him.

Word Count: 2,423

Enchanted to Meet You by DisillusionedDanny :

Danny finally sees his soulmate outside of his dreams and it's everything he wanted and more. Word Count: 2,114

weary soldier, welcome home by halfgone (milkywxy) :

Dick misses his boyfriend. He waxes poetic about this, to himself that is. Then, inevitably, he gets to go home.

Word Count: 2,870

Constantine Bingo by EKat18

Danny turns Constantine selling his soul into a game. Word Count: 1,132

Ongoing

Danny Kidnaps Damian (not actually) by thebritishspider :

Danny doesn't like being summoned. He really doesn't like being summoned. Especially by the league of assassins. Those guys suck. If you're going to summon an all powerful entity at least do it right. A sandwich or something would be nice. He still wouldn't do their bidding anyway but it's the thought that counts. The one time he mentioned this to the league they offered him a child. Well. If they're offering Danny's gonna get the kid out of there. I mean really. Who in their right mind would offer him a child without laying out parameters. It was insulting really.

Or The League summons Danny, offer Damien as a sacrifice, Danny goes "All right then" and takes Damian. "Do you got another place to go kid?" "My father is Bruce Wayne" "Lol, wacky. I'll drop you off with him then." Danny sticks around because the Waynes are pretty cool, and Damian is very clingy.

Word Count: 32,492

Rings of Power by docmartins :

One moment Danny was chilling in space the next he was thrown into a world of heroes. A world that brought him family and friends and siblings and love. or Danny Phantom unexpectedly finds himself becoming the protégé of certain greenclad, ring-weilding heroes. Word Count: 123,437

I’m Falling for you (Now we’re both Falling) by Milaley,zizippy5379 :

Danny Fenton is just your average big city paramedic living in one of the most dangerous cities there is: Gotham. Or is he? What most people don't know is he is a retired superhero from the small town of Amity Park known as Phantom. After the burn out that comes from being a lone teenage hero and a difficult reveal to his parents he decides he needs to get away. And what better city than Gotham for a man who loves to help in medical crises.

Dick Grayson: detective by day, superhero by night. Well that's what he was until the reality of working for the Bludhaven police department set in and his depression took over. Now he's quit his day job and works for his adoptive father's charitable organization. But that doesn't stop him from continuing his superhero work as the one and only Nightwing.

But when these two soulmates meet on a rooftop at night and their timers run out, happily ever after isn’t as easily achieved as one might think.

Word Count: 75,437

Falling for you, again and again (adventures in getting kidnapped and meeting your soulmate) by ziazippy5379 :

Danny gets dragged to some event in Gotham and meets his soulmate. The first meeting goes great. The rest of the night not so much. Word Count: 32,352

[skippyv20]

No build Charles

Hi darling Skippy, as you know I only contribute rarely preferring to just enjoy the peace of your blog .. this one is different. King Charles has No moral right to take over Farmland that can grow food for UK. As it is, many of his cronies in the Middle East and abroad have bought up swathes of the country for their own pleasure ; grouse shooting, growing pine forests , fishing rights, Scotland itself has whole estates and islands in private hands . So no , Charles should stick to what he has already purloined through hereditary bonus. I’ve no doubt were he the decent guy we prayed he would be, he could make the beauty of Georgian Britain gorgeous again rather than the Soviet Loving mess of the Town Hall Mob of Which Old Soviet Enamoured Labour so adored . The point that few adherents to old Labour forget is that people have to eat. To sell off farmland in a tiny country already overwhelmed by indigenous unemployed population plus those claiming asylum as unemployed cannot balance the housekeeping without at least a field of tatties to feed them. This alone , would have made any housewife throw up her hands. Something is very wrong and it’s starting to look like Charles is going to be the catalyst. He will happily leave his beautiful firstborn son , the image of the woman he betrayed to carry the mess he leaves behind and that is a worry for us Royalists left in UK . William can say nothing about his treacherous younger brother while the traitor is Charles “Darling Boy”, therefore he must take the slings and arrows towards his wife and family while Charles appears like a sad slightly pathetic patriarch is trying in vain to hold all sides together. Charles? Your Majesty King Charles, please keep your hands off our agricultural lands the lands of the Isle you swore to protect ? They are not for your building pleasure.., tear down your inner city “carbuncles” first? Allow the few acres viable to continue to farm and grow food and livestock for all the extra souls you have tempted and allowed here, obviously your own family can flee to Geneva, we can’t . Don’t sell farmland for a vanity project like Poundeberry.. who exactly will ever live there ? Long after you’ve destroyed the legacy you were left with and you have either flown the nest by RAF helicopter, or succumbed as we all must, this little island will be left to Gods pleasure. Don’t build in our last remaining farmland?

Hi!  Thank you!  Great post!❤️

[kinnporsche]

hello again! yes, i am indeed posting yet another kinn & porsche fic rec. these fuckers are living in my head rent-free, truly. you guys know the drill by now—like the others, this list is ordered according to length (from longest to shortest), and each fic is by a different author (to share my love and appreciation)! all fics that are not yet complete have been marked with (wip). lastly, make sure to read the tags, and show the authors some love, because we are simply beyond blessed to have such an abundance of talented writers in this fandom! [part 7/?]

— what a tangled web we weave by fortunehasgivenup – explicit / 80.7k words

After the betrayal of his first husband, King Anakinn Theerapanyakul vows to never love again. Once a week, he takes a new husband, a young man who will not live to see another dawn.

Porsche Kittisawat has spent the years since the death of his parents living under the shaky generosity of his uncle, running errands in Thee’s brothel. Anything to protect Chay, his younger brother.

When a nobleman comes to find a young man to adopt and marry off to the king in place of his own son, Thee chooses Chay.

Faced with an outcome that he refuses to contemplate, Porsche steps in and takes Chay’s place. He only has one request for the king—to be allowed to tell his brother one last bedtime story.

(Or: An AU based on the story of Scheherazade.)

— his kingdom to keep by bleakyblues – explicit / 51.8k words (wip)

And for each piece he keeps, there is a piece he has to sell. Because when you deal with the Devil, you only barter with your soul.

(Or: What happens after Porsche is handed over the ring and the power that goes with it.)

— after ever after by thelaziestmotherfucker – mature / 43.6k words (wip)

“Porsche,” she whispered one night as he laid down with his head in her lap. His eyes were so puffy they felt like they were swollen shut. His nose was runny and his lips felt dry. He couldn’t cry anymore that night. He looked up into her loving eyes as she said, “you must never tell anyone of your gift.”

Porsche’s body tensed up at the command. He knew why she asked it, but little could she fathom that Porsche would be left forever isolated with this secret. He would only be able to hope that no one found out.

She passed away in her bed two days later. Porsche had only just turned thirteen.

— how i know you by nuwildcat – explicit / 31.2k words

The looming shadow of the Dragon Throne has long been on Porsche’s mind. The empire has swept closer and closer to his lands, snatching up smaller kingdoms and grinding them under its boots, all at the hand of one man:

Prince Kinn.

Now that army is on Porsche’s doorstep, and he has a choice to make. He can’t fight off the army, but he can protect his country if he consents to become Kinn’s.

For his kingdom, for his people, Porsche will sacrifice anything, but the real question is, what does he have to gain?

— trials & tribulations by rainbowcolored7 – explicit / 26.3k words

In which Kinn is a renowned lawyer for TK & Associates, as well as a certified bastard, and Porsche is his new assistant who isn’t sure whether he’ll scald him with hot coffee or fuck him before he decides to quit.

— a perpetual unscattering by concernedlily – explicit / 31.4k words

“Where did you say he came from?”

“Pissing in bottles behind a cocktail bar,” Kinn said. “But Pa gave him to me, so I’m stuck with him.” To a visibly furious Porsche he said, “You don’t know the minor family? Never come across any of them before?”

“How would I know the fucking minor family?” Porsche snapped.

— she’s god and i’ve found her by yeetlegay – explicit / 8.4k words

“I—” Porsche’s voice cracks. Her eyes, now that they’re open, can’t seem to look away from Kinn, wandering from her face to her torso, the shirt half-unbuttoned to expose her breasts, suit jacket tossed somewhere on the floor nearby. Her gaze is molten, greedy, when she meets Kinn’s eyes again. “What would you give me?” she asks.

Kinn isn’t prepared for that, or for the effect it has on her, the instinct it unlocks. She moves without thinking. Tugs Porsche’s hips down to meet hers. Brings her mouth close enough to feel her breath, to taste the soft gasp she lets out.

Kinn whispers the word, lips not quite brushing hers. “Anything.”

— running from the daylight by ahdriking – explicit / 7.9k words

“It will be fine,” Kinn snaps, suddenly sitting upright. “I have perfect control.”

Porsche snorts. “No alpha has perfect control. Not in rut.”

Kinn looks at him sharply. “You think me a beast?” He snarls. “That I’ll hump the nearest thing that moves, like some kind of animal?”

“I don’t know,” Porsche shoots back. “But seeing as the nearest moving thing is me, you can understand my concern.”

(Or: Stuck in the forest, handcuffed together, Kinn goes into rut.)

— and seek to mend by vesna (mrsronweasley) – explicit / 7.3k words

Porsche is thinking about something that’s been niggling at him for a while, and he thinks, yes. He can probably bring it up now. “I was just thinking,” he starts, wondering how Kinn will react. “Just wondering…”

“Yeah?” Kinn doesn’t stop running his hand up and down Porsche’s back in slow, soothing motions.

Porsche clears his throat, then says, as nonchalantly as he can manage, “Have you ever been fucked?”

— if you leave it ‘til later, you lose by mslunita – explicit / 6.9k words

Kinn’s night at the sex club he frequents is ruined when a rich newcomer takes everyone’s attention. The bartender is pretty hot, but there’s no way he’d go home with Kinn... right?

(Or: Porsche is a bartender at a sex club and Kinn wants him.)

— haunt me when you’re not around by butterflylungs – explicit / 6.3k words

He turns his head back around and he comes to a sudden stop, so fast he almost trips face first into the gun pointed at him. Fear explodes in his chest before Porsche shoves it down, because he can’t afford to be scared. Because Kinn, standing in front of him right now, would smell the fear and jump on it.

“Got you,” Kinn says, finger on the trigger.

— i see nobody, nobody but you by kurtstiel – explicit / 6.3k words

“What’s the matter?” Porsche breathes. “Are you afraid Vegas would be a better kisser than you? Fuck me better than you?”

Kinn goes completely still. He draws back slowly; a cold, detached kind of anger on his face, like he’s transcended rage completely. The part of Porsche that should be frightened has been replaced by the overwhelming, empty ache between his legs.

Porsche gazes at him, knowing he’s about to get exactly what he wants. “You don’t have any kind of claim on me. I don’t belong to you.”

(Or: Kinn catches Porsche arriving home on Vegas’ motorcycle in Episode 5.)

— our little remedy by mirrorofprinces – explicit / 5.8k words

Porsche hesitates.

Kinn snorts, grabbing a fresh towel off the rack behind him. “You let me shoot an apple off your head, but this is too scary? Get over here. I’ll do it myself.”

— home is not a place by thewayside – explicit / 4.2k words

Somewhere between Kinn arriving at Porsche’s and everything going to hell, they have each other.

(Or: Set during Episode 12 after Kinn & Porsche go back to the alleyway behind Hum Bar where they first met.)

— you’ve got to beg to be proud by starstrung – explicit / 2.4k words

Kinn and Porsche have a rule. Their work may take them to dangerous places. They might have to make hard decisions, be threatening, be charming, or a deadly mixture of the two.

They always come home to each other.

[iloveyanderes]

I don't know why but I've slowly kind of returned to my demon Slayer faze(mostly my tanjiro simping faze) and I suddenly got a great idea, a great yandere idea.

What if the reader was alive during the time of yoriichi and got their entire family killed by muzan right in front of them. For whatever reason he kept you alive.

Eventually you became a demon Slayer and got to meet yoriichi, becoming close because of your hatred of demons.

When you and yoriichi came across muzan you saw this as your chance to kill him and helped yoriichi.

See the reader is a little reckless and doesn't care what they have to do to get what they want, you know yoriichi has a much better chance at defeating muzan so you do everything to protect him.

Even if that means getting pierced in the stomach.

So you died in yoriichi's arms, while Tamayo screams out how freaking close the two of you were too defeating muzan.

In the afterlife you are immediately offered a spot in heaven but instead you go straight to hell where you demand a meeting with the devil himself.

You made a deal with the devil that if he keeps reincarnating you until muzan is dead you would sell your soul to him, with a smile the devil agrees, when your not looking he adds a secret hidden aspect to your contract, where everyone you meet becomes yandere for you, don't blame him it gets very boring down in hell, it's due for some entertainment.

And that's how you reincarnate over and over again, everyone you meet becomes yandere for you, you give massive help to the demon slaying corps, secretly teaching them stuff from your time.

Eventually you get born to some random lady and get taken in by the kamados, where all of them become platonic yandere, preventing you from up and running like you usually do when your old enough.

Then on one snow cold night, when tanjiros out selling coal you finally meet the reason you sold your soul to the devil.

Muzan... At the time you were far to overtaken by rage that you didn't notice the dead bodies of your family members.

Despite being very young you still lounge at him, unknown to you he figured out about your eternal reincarnating and has been tracking you down for a long time, so instead of kill you he tried to capture you.

The moment you figured this out you hid in the forest, knowing dang well you know the forest a lot better than he does.

When he's finally gone you go look back at your house, it was then that you noticed the dead bodies.

Tanjiro coming back from his coal selling heard the sharp sounds of screams and blood.

Let's just say he was absolutely horrified to see his adopted sister screaming and his entire house covered in blood.

He managed to calm you down and the two of you took nezuko down the mountain.

Then a certain friendless man attacked. Without thinking you grabbed tanjiros axe and threw it at him, disturbing him by how speedy and accurate your throw was.

When nezuko protected you and tanjiro giyuu decided to let her live, seeing yours and tanjiros potential he quickly sent you guys to live with his old teacher.

While tanjiro had lots of difficulty you had none at all, you've done this a thousand times having used a different breath for every single one of your lives, so water breathing was easy peasy.

Skipping all the lame stuff, you meet kanao, zenitsu, inosuke, the hashiras but the most important one is you meet tamayo.

In some of your past lives you met her, she instantly recognized you and the two of you had a private chat, one thing you've never down is told her you sold your soul to the devil is because she's like a protective mother hen to you, you do not want to disappoint her.

The hashiras slowly become yandere for you, you save rengokus life, prevent uzui from retirement, help a bunch of people.

Life is good, but then after a bunch of guilt you decide to spill the beans.

At first their cool with you being reincarnated over and over again to stop muzan but when you get to the part where you sold your soul to the devil they will not be happy.

The ending is a little controversial but one thing that does happen is their planning to capture muzan, the contract won't have to follow if muzan doesn't die.

They will NOT allow your soul to go into the impure hands of the devil.

Meanwhile hell the devil is watching this with an amusing smile on his face, he really didn't care about not getting your soul, this was the greatest entertainment hes gotten in hundreds of thousands of years.

The end

[dialovers-translations]

Diabolik Lovers LOST EDEN ー Azusa Maniac [Epilogue]

ー The scene starts in the living room of Kino’s manor

Yui: ( I was wondering where he could be headed, but I didn’t expect him to come see Kino-kun... )

( I ended up following him here. I wonder what his plan is...? )

Kino: So? You must have a pretty good reason to come all the way here.

Azusa: ...Yes.

I want you to contact that man...

ーー Tell him that I have made my resolve...

Yui: Eh...?

( That man? Made his resolve? )

( What on earth is he talking about...? )

Kino: ...You really thought it through? 

Not to make fun of your resolve, but do you truly understand the consequences of your decision? 

Eden, the place so dear to your heart, might end up in shambles. 

You don’t mind regardless?

Azusa: Of course...I’m aware. 

However...There’s something I want to protect even more...

Kino: Heeh...

Azusa: What I wish to protect...are my family...and Yui-san.

I don’t mind selling my soul to the Devil to protect everyone...!

Yui: H-Hold up, Azusa-kun...!

I don’t understand any of what you’ve been saying.

What kind of deal did the two of you make...!? 

Azusa: ...

Yui: ...Azusa-kun.

( ...Seems like he’s purposely pretending not to hear me. )

( He won’t even look me in the eyes... )

Kino: Ahaha, nice. I like that determination of yours.

Yuuri. Call that guy right away. Say he can come pick him up at once.

Yuuri: Yes, understood. 

Azusa: Thank you...Kino-san, Yuuri-san...

Well then, Eve...I’ll have to leave for a bit.

ー Azusa walks away

Yui: W-Wait!

ー Yui grabs hold of his hand

*Rustle*

Azusa: Eve...

Yui: Explain to me what’s going on here, Azusa-kun.

If not, I won’t let go of your hand...

Azusa: ...

Don’t worry...I’m sure it’ll go well.

Yui: B-But...!

Azusa: With this, I promise that I will definitely return...Nn...

*Smooch*

Azusa: I want you to have faith...and wait for me.

I’ll come back smiling. So...Rest assured.

Yui: ...Uu...

ー Azusa leaves

Yui: Azusa-kun...

ー A flashback ensues

Azusa: Eve, you guys...Sorry for making you worried...

Yui: Azusa-kun...

Kou: For real! I was worried sick!

Yuma: They didn’t do anythin’ to ya, right? You’re fine, right?

Azusa: ...Nothing happened. I only had to listen to whatever Kino-san had to say as a way for him to kill some time...

ー The flashback ends

Yui: ( I don’t know what exactly, but I’m pretty sure Azusa-kun made a decision back then. )

( In which case...I can no longer stop him. )

( All I can do is wait for him... )

...Ugh...

ー The scene shifts to the Church

Azusa: ( I had no idea there was a place like this in the back of the Church... )

Male Clergyman A: Long time no see, Mukami Azusa.

Azusa: Oh...

Male Clergyman A: ...Are you ready?

By gaining power, you will have to betray your own kind. ...Are you okay with that? 

Azusa: ...

( I...want to protect Yui-san. )

( I don’t want Kanato-san to take her away from me... )

( Besides...Once I’m powerful, I might be able to protect my brothers from those targeting us as well... )

( Everything will be fine...I have already made up my mind. )

( I will throw away everything else, to keep everyone safe. )

...Yes.

I wish to protect my family. For that sake...I need to become stronger.

Male Clergyman A: I see. You have made a wise decision. 

Azusa: But...There is one thing I would like to ask.

I...absolutely refuse to inflict any harm upon Eve or my brothers. Is that okay...?

Male Clergyman A: Yes, I don’t mind.

Well then, allow us to grant you newfound power. 

I believe it will be a long and painful surgery...but your resolve shall not be in vain.

Azusa: ...Yes...

*TIMESKIP*

Monologue

More than ten days have passed,

since Azusa-kun left.

In the end,

we are still living here,

in Kino-kun’s manor.

I have asked Kino-kun multiple times,

about how Azusa-kun is doing,

but none of my attempts have been fruitful,

as he brushes me off with a simple ‘no need to worry’.

We were unable to get rid,

of the bad thoughts lingering in the back of ours mind,

as the painful days dragged on. 

ー The scene shifts to the guest room at Kino’s manor

Yui: ...Haah.

( Azusa-kun didn’t come back today either. )

( I wonder when I’ll be able to see him again...? )

Kou: ...Shouldn’t you get some sleep soon? 

You look absolutely exhausted.

Yui: B-But...

Yuma: We’ll come wake ya up right away if Azusa were to come back.

Ya don’t want to make Azusa worried by showin’ him that worn out face of yers, do ya?

Yui: ...Yeah.

( He’s right...I suppose I’ll get some rest. )

Ruki: ーー Wait. I believe somebody is headed this way.

Yui: Eh...?

Kou: Kino-kun, perhaps? But why would he come this late at night...?

Ruki: No, this presence is...

ー Azusa enters the room

Azusa: I’m back...Yui-san.

Ruki, Kou, Yuma, you guys too. I’m sorry, for taking so long...

Yui: A-Azusa-kuーー Eh...?

Kou: Azusa-kun, your left arm...! But how...!?

Azusa: I was given power...Now I can protect all of you.

Ruki: ...Ah...

Yuma: Protect us...? Is that why ya left for a while...?

Azusa: Yeah...This left arm of mine...is a magical one...

Now you guys won’t have to worry about me any longer...

Yui: ( Azusa-kun seems incredibly exhilarated... )

( I’m not sure how he managed to recover his left arm but...I can say that I’m happy for him, right? )

Ruki: ...

...Azusa. What’s that seal on your wrist?

Yui: Eh...?

Azusa: Ah, you mean this...?

*Rustle*

Azusa: You see, it’s the emblem of the Church...

Ruki: ...I knew it.

Yuma: The Church? ...Azusa, are ya bein’ for real?

Kou: H-Hold up...So you got that arm from humans affiliated with the Church?

Azusa: Yeah...

Yui: ...Ugh...

Ruki: However, I cannot imagine they would ever do that without expecting something in return.

Azusa...Don’t tell me you made a deal with them?

Azusa: ...I see.

In exchange for receiving power, I promised to help them in their cause...

Ruki: ...!

Kou: So you’ll be forced to use your powers to work for the Church now!?

That’s messed up! I mean, they’ve got Vampire Hunters working for them!

Doesn’t that mean you’ll have to bare your fangs to Demons eventually...?

Azusa: Yes...Exactly. But...I’m not being forced to do so. 

I mean, this is a decision...I made myself...

Yui: You made it...yourself? 

Azusa: As things are right now...Demons...as well as fellow Vampires already think of us as the enemy, right?

In which case...I will have to fight them. I believe it simply can’t be helped...

Yui: Ugh...

Azusa: I want to...keep all of you safe.

I simply can’t stand the thought of all of you getting hurt...because I’m too weak and incompetent...

Yuma: ...Tsk...

Kou: ...

Yui: Azusa-kun...

( I can’t exactly say anything in return to that... )

( Azusa-kun made this decision for our sakes... )

Ruki: ...So you mean you’ll settle the score with the Sakamaki Family? 

Are you sure you’re okay with that?

Azusa: Yes, I’m sure.

Ruki: ...

...Okay. Do as you please then.

ー Ruki walks away

Yui: R-Ruki-kun!?

( He left the room. I guess he must be concerned about Azusa-kun after all... )

Azusa: ...

Yui: ( Azusa-kun... )

ーー TO BE CONTINUED ーー

[cyarskj1899]

Watching people backpedal in response to this leaked audio of tory & kelsey’s call making my blood boil cause y’all really put meg through all that for nothing. Y’all had more than enough evidence.

Y’all can go to hell for your disgusting dickriding

Drake can go to hell for that disgusting and corny line calling her a liar and he can take his bbl and tummy tuck with him

Joe budden can go to hell for disrespecting her

Zach Campbell can go to hell for spreading lies

Mariah the scientist can go to hell for being such a pick me biiich

Dababy can go to hell for collaborating with him in a song that Nobody listened

Jack harlow can go to hell by association because he collaborated with him and dababy(ironically his remix of what’s poppin is lames biggest hit at least according to billboard charts. So the motive for the infamous shooting is basically summed up as toxic masculinity and fragile ego , that leprechauns can’t handle the fact that a black female rapper had more success and Grammys than he does and when she said that his music is wack) and this hurts because i like the guy

Iggy azealia can go to hell for collaborating with him

Lebron James can go to hell for listening to his music and praising it(and he’s got a black wife and daughters and sons Smgdfh, he should be lucky to have his family though he’s slutting himself out for a bald head degenerate)

Dj akademiks can go to the 7th circle of hell for spreading lies and because he’s an ugly looking honey bun

50 cent can swim in the lake of fire because he mocked her trauma twice and he’s only sorry now because he heard the audio of him admitting to it.

The bloggers can go to Dante’s inferno because while two white women were telling the real information about the trial as real journalists should be doing, these gossip girls were d!ck munching a midget who was an abuser and violent degenerate. What does that say about black media when I’m praising white women for doing their jobs? Black bloggers who are professionals and ethical, be ashamed and outraged of your anti black and anti black women counterparts lack of respect, ethics and professionalism

I don’t gaf if they back pedal or apologize. They had two years to do the right thing and they chose evil. It’s too late. There’s lashings and a$$ whoopings for them arssholes who’s necks and a$$ my feet are stomping on and biiiches it’s here to stay!

You can’t have degenerate d!ck familiarity and then when you learn that he’s the bastard everyone else knew he was take it back, it’s too late, you choose this. You were willingly selling your soul, your dignity, your humanity, and your sense of judgment to be a groupie for someone who is a coward at the expense to retraumatize a black woman for years. Have you learned anything from what happened with r Kelly and Ian walkins ? Yeah clearly not! I heard the stories, I get mad with rage when I think about it and feel sick. Parents and enablers were so star struck with their idols despite they’re open pedophiles That they would literally let their children be raped by these monsters who deserve far worse than a long prison sentence ijs.

toxic fandoms are a problem in society and social media and clearly that leprechauns fan base is not the exception. One of his fans said that he’s our modern emmitt till. 🤬🙄😤Harriet Tubman should have capped those fans ancestors. George bush, your no child left behind policy sucks because some children should have been left behind in school.

Let this be a lesson for anyone. Believe survivors of abuse until it’s backwards, don’t trust or protect anybody, never be so willing to worship a famous person that if they become problematic you’re willing to lose your self respect and black women deserve better

[icharchivist]

Icha just knows all of the A3 songs

All of them

Do you have an all-time favorite though or do you love them in rotation?

DMKFJDMFLF WELL. WELL!!

i love so many a3 songs it's unreal, but i admit i didn't keep much up to date with the latest songs released

i do have some old time favorite though yes! thanks for asking!

for a certain explanation: A3 is about a theater troupes. Character Solo and Troupe Songs are all songs about the characters themselves, while the Duet are in-characters song from the plays they feature. However each play is meant to deepen the characterization of the lead actors playing the characters and reflect a bit on their arcs

Scarlet Game by Hisoka (Junta Terashima) and Chikage (Wataru Hatano)

this is one of my most listened song of all time lmao

A Sherlock Holmes/Moriarty play, where both of the main player are played by adopted brothers who used to be estranged because they lived in a very toxic environment that costed the life of their elder brother, after one of the two almost destroyed the life of the other out of grief before realizing he was betraying his only family left.

This song is so good and also they're two of my favorite characters ever.

Shoutai by Azuma (Tetsuya Kakihara) and Tasuku (Takuya Sato)

also one of my favorite.

A lonely vampire who was found by a regular salary man as he was weak, who ended up living with him and feeding on him, using him, only to realize that he was starting to feel affection for the man who wanted to help him out of this loneliness, begging him to turn him into a vampire to follow him in this lonely life, until the vampire decides it's time to walk away so his friend can actually live fully, while the human promises he'll find him back no matter what. Beautiful song, mirroring Azuma's fear of getting close to people while also being desperate to hold on to them even though he keeps self isolating, and Tasuku's desperate attempt at actually supporting Azuma while also helping him out of his episodes when he suddenly pushes everyone away.

Unmask by Guy (Hino Satoshi) and Tsumugi (Tamaru Atsushi) 4th Winter Troupe Play

A Phantom of the Opera song, used mostly for Guy to reflect on the way he's been deshumanized to the point he fully shut himself off from emotions, and how his troupe reached back to him. Tsumugi also can relate to Christine but this is a deeper conversation to have ahah

The Contract by Taichi (Hama Kento) and Tsumugi (Tamaru Atsushi)

Selling your soul to the fallen angel Lucifer has never been hotter. A song reflecting on how those two characters were used and mentally manipulated in a very bad place by the leader of a troupe called the God troupe -- a troupe its formers members are described as "they were promised heaven but they only ended up in hell."

.... someone with knowledge of the saga will point out that those are all songs involving Winter Troupe members and listen. I can't help it. They fucking came to me.

but to be more fair with songs from other troupes:

Just For Myself by Omi (Kentarou Kumagai) and Taichi (Kento Hama)

A lone wolf in the apocalypse ending up charged with protecting an optimist girl who escaped experiments made on her, slowly learning to accept others people in his life. Mirroring Omi's difficult past and difficulty letting go of things that had happened to him, and Taichi's boundless optimism despite having been used the way he's been before.

Usotsuki wa Mahou no Hajimari, by Chikage (Wataru Hatano) and Sakuya (Koudai Sakai)

A Wizard of Oz themed song. A swindler fooling the whole world he came to to use them until he could leave, only to realize he ended up carrying about the people he intended to leave behind, who would believe in him no matter what. Reflecting Chikage's original bad intentions for the company and Sakuya's boundless optimism for Chikage to feel like family to this troupe.

Other honorable mentions. -The Pride of the Knights, Arthurian Knights themed song with Itaru (Shintarou Asanuma) and Chikage (Wataru Hatano)

-Es No Yuutsu, a detective story featuring Homare (Toshiyuki Toyonaga) and Hisoka (Junta Terashima)

-STEP, a ballet inspired song featuring Tasuku (Takuya Sato) and Homare (Toshiyuki Toyonaga)

-Bouquet, flowershop AU featuring Hisoka (Junta Terashima) and Tsumugi (Tamaru Atsushi)

-Meteor Trail, aiming for the moon and find yourself on the way, featuring Chikage (Wataru Hatano) and Tsuzuru (Koutarou Nishiyama)

-Q to Ju, the second song from the Sherlock Holmes play, Watson vs Moran, played by two brothers, Kumon (Tasuku Hatanaka) and Juza (Shunsuke Takeuchi)

-RESPAWN, a zombie apocalypse, featuring Azami (Seiya Konishi) Banri (Chiharu Sawashiro)

-Ichiya Kagiri No Aibou, a Noir Mafia Buddy song featuring Banri (Chiharu Sawashiro) and Juza (Shunsuke Takeuchi)

-Susume Pirate, a lighthearted pirate story, featuring Misumi (Daisuke Hirose) and Muku (Yoshitaka Yamaya)

-Omoide no Nejimaki, a sad story of an alchemist and his creation as they learn humanity, friendship, and a tragic end with a promise of reunion one day, featuring Tsuzuru (Koutarou Nishiyama) and Citron (Masashi Igarashi)

-Exciting Charmer, a sport story about having the strength to go back to what you used to love and enjoy your youth, featuring Kumon (Tasuku Hatanaka) and Tenma (Eguchi Takuya)

-Continuation of the Grand Stay, which is one of the story i didn't actually read but the song slaps so hard, featuring Azuma (Tetsuya Kakihara) and Guy (Satoshi Hino)

-Yoi no Mikazuki, which i also didn't read the story of but i really like, featuring Citron (Masashi Igarashi) and Guy (Satoshi Hino)

-Professional, it's the second song for this specific play, specifically the song of the antagonists in a fashion show. Featuring Masumi (Shirai Yusuke) and Tenma (Eguchi Takuya)

ok the list got out of hands and i'm not done but this should be quicker

Troupe highlights:

ONE X ONE, Autumn Troupe's first act song

Home, Spring Troupe's anime song.

Thawing, Winter Troupe's anime song

and Solo songs

From Spring: -Real Luck, Itaru's second solo (Asanuma Shintaro), or when a geek finally feels like he belongs somewhere thanks to the luck of discovering a new family

-Storyteller , Tsuzuru's second solo (Koutaro Nishiyama), or when the writer of the company discovers more about himself

-Petenshi no Yuutsu, Chikage's first solo (Wataru Hatano), or when the liar who came to destroy them all as he lashes out from his trauma is finally reflecting on who he is...

-SEEDs, Chikage's second solo (Wataru Hatano), and how this same liar finally found his place in this family despite his sins

From Summer:

-Natsu no Dilemma, Tenma's first solo (Eguchi Takuya), or when the perfectionist wonders if he has lost a bit of himself along the way

-MINORITY, Yuki's first solo (Shunichi Toki), or when you're considered an outcast just for being who you wanted to be and that you just want to learn to love yourself

-Seiten no Sinker, Kumon's first solo (Tasuku Hatanaka), or when chronic illness makes everything you loved doing so far away

-Yuukei no Catchball, Kumon's second solo (Tasuku Hatanaka), and when you can overcome it with proper support and embrace what you love still

From Autumn:

-Super Ultra Easy Mode, Banri's first solo (Chiharu Sawashiro), or when everything comes so easy to you that why even bother?

-re:Portrait, Banri's second solo (Chiharu Sawashiro), and the realization that pure passion will give you actually something to look forward to in life

-Living the Dream, Taichi's first solo (Kento Hama), or when you sell your soul for a dream, only to finally find people who want to help you and not use you instead.

-Gaki Atsukai, Azami's first solo (Seiya Konishi), or trying to figure out your future between expectations and dreams and no longer wanting to be treated like a child.

From Winter:

-Keyword, Tsumugi's first solo (Tamaru Atsushi), or trying to find yourself back after you lost your way

-Cross Line, Tsumugi's second solo (Tamaru Atsushi), and managing to move forward with your passion after having been terrified to do so

-Beyond the Wall, Tasuku's first solo (Takuya Sato), a direct response to Keyword, and the promise to not let misunderstanding get in the way of the bonds that are important to you.

-Traumerei to Kuhaku, Hisoka's first solo (Junta Terashima), or the disconnect from the world or an amnesiac, seeing yourself in an haze, terrified to learn about the things you forgot, and wondering if you can allow yourself to accept the love you're being given

-Nachtmusik to Hakugetsu, Hisoka's second solo (Junta Terashima), and dealing with the aftermath of waking up and remembering, grieving, and what is now in front of you, and accepting this love

-Kiteretsu Poemer, Homare's first solo (Toshiyuki Tonoyaga), or the plea of a passionate poet, who wants to love and connect with others while feeling paralyzed by his lack of empathy and the fear of hurting instead of helping

-Emotion, Homare's second solo (Toshiyuki Tonoyaga), and realizing that you can actually experience all of those emotions and will have the support system you need and you don't need to "fix" yourself, you will just learn as you go, from the good and the bad

-DEFRAGMENTATION, Guy's first solo (Satoshi Hino) (translation here), or coping with the ultimate form of deshumanization....

-For Your Journey ~The Bar's Secret, Guy's second solo (Satoshi Hino) and reclaiming your own humanity and future, and setting yourself in this journey of personal growth

OTHERS MISC:

-Theater of Eternity, by Reni (Ryoutarou Okiayu), the main antagonist's song, which just slaps. listen. I don't have something clever to say about everyone.

-Nitou Joutou, by Haruto, (Mitsuhiro Ichiki), one of the first antagonist of the story, ex friend of Tasuku, always Number Two. Honestly mostly linking this one because its seiyuu is Icarus's va in Gbf, which you may also know as "the honorary skyfarer", aka the VA who was invited to every fest before he even played a role in GBF because he is one of the most dedicated fan and player of Granblue.

so yknow i started this ask thinking "i can keep it short i don't like THIS many songs) but then well. well. Things went out of my hands. I'm sorry. or not.

Honestly just go with the vibes of the descriptions for what you'd want to try out.

.... but maybe knowing Hisoka, Chikage and Azuma are my favorite characters would indicate a lot for you. And the Winter Troupe is my fav troupe.

Or looking for characters sharing seiyuu in a3, here's a good idea.

.... yeah i'm sorry, i swear it's not all the songs, but, you know,,,

THE MORE YOU KNOW thanks for letting me ramble.

[andydrysdalerogers]

The Best Thing to Ever Happen

Pairings: Lee Bodecker x reader

Word Count: 2K+

Summary: Lee Bodecker only had one wish: to make his sunshine his.

Song: You’re Beautiful – James Blunt

Warnings: Smut, lost of virginity, attempted rape, death

YN YLN had to have been the sweetest girl in all of Knockemstiff. She was respectful, loved by the town but for some reason, no man had snatched her up. YN, to help her parents, decided to take a receptionist job. Working at the sheriff’s station as the receptionist was always hard. The deputies were rude most of the time making comments about you. The only respectable one was Sheriff Bodecker. He protected you since you were just a young woman, single and beautiful. You were like sunshine, warming his soul.

“Mornin’ Sheriff.”

“Mornin’ Sunshine. How’s your family?”

“They are fine. Thank you for askin’.”

“That’s good. Will you be needed a ride tonight?” Paul YLN was a protective father and refused to let his daughter walk home after work.

You smiled. “No Sheriff. Papa said he’d be by.”

“Good. Good. A young lady like yourself shouldn’t be going places on her own.”

“I know Sheriff. Papa said you are too good to me.”

“Well Sunshine, you’ll meet a fine young man one day and he’s gonna want a respectable lady by his side. I’m just making sure you get there.”

“I hope so. But guys my age are just immature jerks. Forgive my language.”

“And what you do you want?”

“Something more Sheriff.” You blushed when you looked up at him. Even if he was a little overweight Lee Bodecker was a handsome man. You loved looking into his eyes so blue that you thought you were looking at the sky before a storm.

At the end of the day you stood outside of the station waiting for your papa to pick you up. The Sheriff watched as you fiddled with your sweater looking down the road. You papa was late, and you weren’t sure what you were going to do.

“Sunshine, where’s your pa?”

You turned around to see the Sheriff standing on the porch. “I dunno. He probably forgot. I’ll just walk. It’s not that far.”

“No need Sunshine. I’ll take you.”

One of the deputies snickered. “Hey YN make sure you thank the sheriff the right way.”

“Jones, mind your manners now!” Lee hated how his deputies disrespected YN. She was beautiful and any man would be lucky to make her his wife. But she would never look at him. He carried a torch for YN, his sunshine and wished that you felt the same for him.

The ride to her house was quiet. You were trying not to blush, and he was trying to not show his attraction to you.

The sheriff walked you to your door since it was dark out. He noticed the door was off the hinges. “Sunshine, stay here,” he ordered. He withdrew his gun and checked the house. It was there he found your pa covered in blood your ma next to him. He checks the rest of the house and found nothing else. He went back to you. “Sunshine I’m sorry but…”

“No Sheriff please don’t say it. Lee please.”

“I’m sorry sweetheart. Someone broke in the house, and they killed your folks.”

He held you as you cried. He called his deputies to start investigating. He waited while you sat in the car.

“Sunshine, you can’t stay here while they investigate. You want to go to the motel?”

“No please I don’t want to be alone.”

“Ok sunshine, you can come with me.” Lee smiled. “I’ll take care of you, my Sunshine.”

The next few days were a blur. Lee helped YN with the funeral arrangements and dealing with the will. As their only daughter, they had left everything to you, the house and the little savings they had. You managed to pay off their debts, but you needed more to keep the house. You were deciding whether to have it as a boarding house or to sell it.

“Sheriff I just don’t know what to do. I’m scared to have strangers living with me there, being unmarried with strange men. But I can’t keep the house if I can’t make the payments.” You cried in Lee’s office. “No one will want an orphan with nothing to offer.”

“Oh sunshine, you are perfect. Any man would be lucky to have to you, house or no house. I mean I would court you if you wanted a man like me.”

You looked at the Sheriff, who was looking down. “Lee, it would be my pleasure to court with a man like you.” He raised his gazed to yours and you smiled a shy smile.

“You should open it as a boarding house, Sunshine. But you come stay with me. I’ll be respectful and keep you safe. I’ll drop you off here to take care of the breakfast and pick you up after dinner. I’ll be sorry to lose you at the station, but I know this is the best option for you.”

You considered Lee’s offer for a week. The town ladies didn’t hold back that Lee Bodecker was a scoundrel in the worst way and that a young lady such as yourself would be ruining themselves. But you didn’t care. Lee was the only one who cared about you from the beginning.

You opened the boarding house a month later, renting out rooms for a couple of dollars a night. You made a big breakfast and a simple dinner. But you always went home with Lee. He gave you a room on the other side of his house, respecting your privacy but making sure that you were comfortable. He escorted you to church before heading off to his patrols. All of the townspeople were shocked at the change in the sheriff. Some even started to think that maybe YN YLN was the best thing to happen to Sheriff Lee Bodecker.

One night, Lee waited for you outside the boarding house. He had some flowers for you. After 20 minutes, you still hadn’t appeared. Lee climbed out of his cruiser and approached. He heard you scream and he ran in. “Sunshine! Where are ya?!” He heard muffled sounds coming from pantry. There he found one of the boarders, pawing at you, while you kept swinging your arms, fighting him off. “You dirty bastard, get off her!” Lee roared.

He grabbed the scoundrel by the collar and pulled him out. He punched him square on the jaw dropping him to the floor. Lee turned around to see you with a red mark on your face, tears streaming down. “YN, are you alright? Did he touch ya?”

“No, Lee.” You shook your head as you tried to get up. Lee bent down to pick you up and took you to the sitting room. He called a deputy to collect the piece of trash that tried to touch you and he went to the kitchen for a damp rag. He kneeled in front of you and gently wiped your face.

“What happened sunshine?”

“I was just cooking dinner and I was running late. Only had one boarder tonight so I made something small. I promise Lee, I didn’t invite him to the kitchen.” You sobbed and another tear fell. “He said that he wanted all of my services and when I sent him away he smacked me. Then he pushed me into the pantry.”

“I’ll kill ‘em.” Lee went to stand.

“No! Lee, please don’t leave me.” You pleaded with him and pulled on his arm. The deputy arrived and took the scum to the jail. Lee locked up the house and guided you to the cruiser. You were quiet for the rest of the ride. Once home, you ran to your room and slammed the door.

Lee sighed, heartbroken for you. He made a sandwich and went to his room. As he turned out his light, a knock was on his door. “Come in.”

You stood there in your nightgown, your long YHC following down to the middle of your back. “Sunshine?”

You went to Lee’s bed and climbed into his lap. You rested your head on his chest. He kissed your temple. “I was so scared Lee.”

“I know baby. I’m so sorry I didn’t come in sooner.”

“I don’t think I want to keep the boarding house.”

“Oh baby. Don’t let one bad person ruin what you have built. You are the most talented, beautiful amazing woman in the world. And I’m so proud that you are so strong.”

You looked Lee in the eyes and even in the dark could see how much he loved you. You cupped his cheek and leaned in. You placed a chaste kiss on his pink lips. You pulled back. “I think im fallin’ for you Lee.”

Lee pulled you to him and pressed his lips to yours. You moan at the gentleness, allow him to explore your mouth. He pulls back and sees desire in your eyes. “Do you want this?”

“Take me Lee,” you moan.

Lee stands you up and peels the night gown over your head, leaving you in just your panties. “I knew you were perfect, sunshine.” Lee sits on the edge of the bed and pulls you to him with a giggle escaping your lips. He latches onto your nipple, listening to you moan. His hands land on your hip and start to pull down your panties. His fingers swipe in your folds as he continues to suck. “Yer soaked baby.”

“Lee, please,” you wailed.

He sinks one finger in, pumping slowly, enjoying your heat. As he feels you relax, he adds another, pumping harder. You throw your head back in pleasure, mewling at the sensation, your core building. “Cum for me, YN. I want to taste you.” His dirty words, sending you over the edge as you clench on his digits. He slowly pulled his fingers out and raised them to his mouth. “Delicious,” he smirked. He twirled you around and laid you on the bed. He removed his pajama pants leaving his undershirt and boxers. “Sunshine…”

“You are the most amazing man Lee. I love every inch of you.”

That was the confidence Lee needed. He took of his shirt and boxers and climbed on top of you. He lined himself with. “This might hurt sweetheart.” You nodded and he pushed in slowly. You gasped at the intrusion, the fullness, the slight pain. He started slowly, allowing you to get used to the sensation. When you body started to tighten, he moved faster.

“Lee,” your voice trembled.

“Its ok love. Let go.” He thrusted harder and you came hard. Still lost in the pulsing of your orgasm, Lee lifted your leg and dove deeper. You screamed at how deep he was, hitting the spot inside you that gave you insane pleasure.

“Fuck, LEE!” You screamed as your third orgasm of the night ripped through you.

“YN!” You felt himself empty into you. He hovered over you, taking in your blissed out expression. “I love you so much.”

As you faded to sleep, Lee knew, he could never let go now.

After six months, Lee proposes to YN. She accepted with an open heart. Lee was everything she ever wanted. Sure, he was older than her by more than 10 years, but he was kind, loving, respectful and she was sure that her papa would have loved to have him as a son in law.

They never did find out who had murdered your parents. It looked like a drifter, who her Ma had let in, had done it after asking for money. But YN resolved in her heart that she would only look forward with Lee by her side. She was sad they were gone but she had found happiness with Lee.

Their wedding was simple in the church where YN was baptized. The preacher was happy that the little girl had matured into a successful businesswoman and found a man who treated her like an equal. He blessed the union, they danced into the night with the town watching.

Lee made love to his wife, his sunshine, that night, slow and sweet. She was finally his and he couldn’t be happier. Her Pa wasn’t happy when Lee went to ask for permission to court his daughter. Said Lee’s reputation made it impossible for him to give his blessing. But Lee didn’t accept that and tried to reason with Paul YLN. It was just a shame that he had to kill her parents to get there.

[littleoddwriter]

Could I request Eli Sunday with a male reader who's super protective and will throw hands if anyone's mean to him?

Fighting For You | Eli Sunday x Male!Reader

Hi there! Ah, yes, once again, I've had a similar idea to this already, so thanks for the request, this was delightful to write! I really hope you like what I've done with it. <3

summary; You protect Eli from people that harass him, fighting them back to keep them from hurting him.

notes; Male!Reader; Implied/Referenced Period-Typical Homophobia; Fighting; Violence; Overprotective!Reader; Religion; Canon-Divergence (I re-wrote the ending of the film).

Because Eli was an evangelist, attempting to get as many people as possible to join the Church of the Third Revelation, he’s known to rub some people the wrong way and get into altercations with them. While Eli was always respectful and tried not to pressure anybody overtly, he still got harassed by a fair share of people for his attempts.

Ever since you and him have been in a relationship, you really started noticing it. Sometimes he would come home with reddened cheeks, having been slapped or even punched by a man, whose family Eli tried to convince to join his church. It made you angry. Eli didn’t deserve to be treated this way for wanting the best for those people. He only wanted to save their souls, but if they didn’t want that, then that was their problem, not his.

And when you started going out together with some other members of his church, helping him preach God’s words to those, who have ignored it thus far, this whole situation seemed even worse. 

Some people simply walked by, not even glancing at any of you. Others yelled at Eli to stop spewing false prophecies. And few actually grabbed him by his collar and became physical with him, slapping him, yelling in his face, and pulling on his hair to stop him from spreading God’s words and love to them.

You couldn’t watch.

So, you stalked over to the guy currently holding Eli by his shirt’s collar, raising his hand to hurt him, and grabbed that hand and twisted it behind the man’s back. 

He cried out in pain and let go of Eli in surprise. 

Shortly, you let go of the other man, let him turn around to you, and landed a right hook to his jaw.

“Do not touch him! Understand?” you hissed. You were seething. You wanted to yell and to let anyone, who would listen, know that your partner was off-limits. But alas, you weren’t out, for obvious reasons of the people being less than tolerant about relationships like yours. 

“Fuck you!” the man snarled, but got up and left without making it even more of a scene, luckily.

Breathing heavily, still, you turned to Eli. 

“Are you okay?” you asked him, looking him over worriedly.

Eli nodded, his mouth was slightly opened and he looked surprised.

“Thank you,” he said softly with a tiny smile.

“Anything for you,” you told him honestly, fixing his collar as you did.

The other members stayed quiet, having averted their gazes from what was happening. You didn’t blame them. You understood that they were scared, and most of them were older, more fragile, they shouldn’t have to fist-fight some stranger like that. You were happy to take the world on all by yourself, if it meant that Eli was okay.

______

Years later, Eli has started working in radio as well. It was much safer that way, and it reached a lot more people on a daily basis. 

It was nice to have him come home to you without bruises, without tears in his eyes, and without this sadness he felt for those he couldn’t save. 

That was, until the two of you started having financial troubles.

You were working as well, of course, but you didn’t make nearly enough money to even pay the rent to the apartment you shared with Eli. The rest of the money was usually brought in by Eli’s work, and his charities. But people have become less likely to spend their hard-earned money on the church, which left you with less and less money each week.

“I’ll go talk to Daniel. Remember how William Bandy died recently, God rest his soul. I could sell the Bandy Tract to Daniel,” Eli told you one evening, “And since we’re brothers-in-law now, he might be more inclined to help me.”

Sighing, you shook your head, “I don’t think that’s a good idea, Eli. Hasn’t Daniel messed with you enough? Just because you’re brothers now doesn’t mean he’ll be any nicer to you.”

“I just want us to be able to live normally,” Eli murmured disappointed.

“I know. I’m worried about you in this, is all,” you said, kissing his cheek gently, “We’ve got each other, my love. And for as long as we do, I couldn’t care less about the money we have or don’t have. We’ll get by somehow. I can look for another job.”

“You shouldn’t have to. It’s me, who’s lacking the money we need, so I’m the one who has to fix it,” Eli responded and by the way he sounded so convinced of what he’s just said, you knew that arguing against that wouldn’t get you anywhere. He’s already made up his mind.

Pecking his lips, you nodded, “All right. Fine. Talk to Daniel, then. See what you can agree on.”

“Thank you,” Eli smiled, kissing your lips.

______

When Eli left to visit Daniel, you had this gut feeling. This feeling that something terrible was going to happen. And so you decided to follow Eli, once that feeling has convinced you that you couldn’t just sit at home and wait for whatever it was to happen. 

Just as you entered the room with the private bowling area that Daniel’s servant has told you they were in, you could hear Eli shouting in terror, pleading Daniel for his forgiveness and mercy.

Alarmed, you ran into the room and saw Daniel throwing the wooden bowling pins at Eli, who was desperately trying to get away.

Seeing red, as you were filled with rage, you quickly walked over to Daniel, grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pushed him to the ground. Luckily, the element of surprise was on your side, and so was the waxy ground of the bowling alley that made him lose his balance easily. 

“Have you not terrorised him enough, you fucking leech?” you yelled, forcibly turning Daniel onto his back and straddling him. 

Then you started punching him in the face, angrily yelling at him to finally leave Eli alone once and for all, or else you would make sure that he was the one buried underground.

“Y/N! Stop it! You’re going to kill him!” Eli screamed, trying to pull you off of Daniel, who was smirking at you, once you stopped punching him.

“What the fuck are you smiling at, huh?” you snarled, ready to hit him again, but Eli stopped you with his hands gently holding onto yours.

“I see now, why you protect him,” Daniel rasped, turning his head and spitting out some of the blood that must have gathered in his mouth.

“It’s none of your business,” you hissed. Then, you rose to your feet, as Eli steadied you to make sure you wouldn’t slip and fall. “Don’t think that this knowledge would get you anywhere. Just stay away from Eli. From both of us,” you told Daniel sternly, looking down on him.

Not waiting for a response, you put a gentle hand on Eli’s back and led him outside. 

“Are you all right? Did he hurt you?” you asked, once you were well on your way to your home, which wasn’t too far away from Daniel’s house. You’d have to propose moving to Eli.

“I’m okay. Physically, that is,” Eli said with a shaky voice, “I just can’t believe he was trying to-”

“Really?” you interrupted him incredulously, “You can’t believe he would try to hurt - if not kill - you after humiliating and hurting and fucking you over for decades?”

Eli made a thoughtful sound, “You might have a point.” He smiled at you, shortly taking your hand into his and squeezing it lovingly, “Thanks for coming to help me.”

“I told you, I’d do anything for you, and I’ve always got your back,” you said and bumped your shoulder against his, “I just had this nasty feeling that something bad would happen, and so I came. Fortunately.”

“My saviour,” Eli grinned, “well, after Jesus Christ, maybe.”

Chuckling, you nodded, “Yeah, sounds about right.”

______

At home, you both lay in bed together, as you held Eli close. He was shaken up about what had happened and what could have been, if you hadn’t been there. You desperately needed to feel each other, to hear one another’s heart beating, and feeling their body warmth against your own skin.

Never in your life have you been happier to have followed your gut feeling.

[breanime]

His Vows (with Bonus Boy)

Pure fluff ahead!

Billy Russo: Never in a million years did Billy ever think he’d be marrying someone--much less someone he actually loved. Affection, loyalty, vulnerability, those things that were required for love came hard to him. And yet, with you, he felt them. Looking at you made him feel incredibly strong and somehow especially weak, like he could take on the world, but only if you were by his side. The orphan in him wanted to spend thousands on your wedding, wanted to make a statement, a declaration for everyone to see. But the man in him knew better. The man in him--only recently discovered through your support--didn’t need to impress strangers, didn’t need the approval of his “betters”. He only needed you. So as Billy stood in front of the judge, Frank and Curtis at his side, your parents and best friend behind you, he knew this was right. You told him you didn’t want a big wedding, didn’t need the fanfare, and that alone was enough to make Billy, over 100 confirmed kills under his belt, fall to his knees in devotion. You only wanted him. He reached out then, taking your hand in his, and let the small audience around you fade into the background. “Despite what my guys at Anvil might say,” he began with a slight smirk, “I’m not really one for speeches,” he paused, hearing Frank’s scoff and Curtis’ chuckle, before going on, “so I’ll keep this brief. I never thought I’d have this. Growing up, my only goal was to become somebody, and even then, that was more about proving something to myself than anything else. But then I met you. And damn,” he shook his head, his smirk turning into a rare, genuine smile, “if you didn’t change everything. So thank you. Thank you for making me into the man I am today, and thank you for staying with me, working with me, being so patient with me. I love you, and I promise, from this day forward, I will do everything in my power to make sure you’re the happiest person on the planet,” he looked into your shining eyes, a sense of certainty going through him, an instinctual push that let him know that he was doing the right thing, “I love you, and I’m so happy to be your husband.”

Logan Delos: As soon as you and Logan had walked down the aisle, officially man and wife, Logan pulled you away. “Logan,” you laughed as he led you down a hall, “what are you doing?” “I’m having a private moment with my wife,” he answered, opening a door and pulling you into the spare room with him, “My wife. Mrs. Logan Delos,” he grinned down at you, “Fuck... How’d I get so lucky?” You laughed, and Logan reached over and held your face in his hands, staring down at the rest of his life. “I’m serious... How did I get so lucky? I mean... I’m a perpetual fuck up, the bane of my father’s existence and still, despite all of that... I got you,” he sighed sweetly, “I love you, princess. I’m gonna love you till the day I die, and maybe even after that too,” he smiled at your responding laugh, “Definitely after that. Fuck,” he let out a breath, laughing at the end of it, “I just... I just won at life, babe. I mean--look at you. Look at us! I always thought I’d spend the rest of my life in-between lovers, just waking up smothered in a sea of dicks and--” “--You realize we’re in a church, right?” You deadpanned. He laughed--Logan laughed a lot when he was with you--and he leaned down and kissed you, his tongue slipping into your mouth as you moaned against his lips. “Ah ah,” he teased, pulling back with a smirk, “you know we’re in a church, right? But seriously, babe... I never thought I’d be a one-woman guy. But you... You’re all that I want. You’re everything. You just... You just came into my life and changed everything. I was just running around, fucking around... and you just burst in and gave me... Purpose,” he sighed happily, “It wasn’t until I met you that I realized why I was put on this earth. I was born to be yours. I was born to marry you and love you and take care of you, and I will,” he leaned down and kissed you now, his kiss soft and slow, nothing but love in his touch, “I will.... So now, let’s go get drunk and dance so we can get out of here, and I can really show you how I feel.”

Jax Teller: “I promise to treat you as good as my leather,” Jax recited, that famous Teller smirk on his face. You laughed as the room erupted in cheers and applause, and Jax kissed you. He was smiling when he pulled back, those blue eyes of his twinkling with love for you and you alone. “I really lucked out when you agreed to be my Old Lady,” he said, his voice making the laughs die down, all eyes on him, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life... especially with love,” he admitted, “I was stubborn and ignorant and lost, but even through all that... You were there. You kept me grounded, you showed me what it meant to be a man and an outlaw, taught me how to reconcile those parts of myself, and for that... I’ll always be grateful to you, darlin’. You understand me--all the parts of me. I don’t ever have to worry about how to tell you things, or keep things from you. You get the club life. You support me. Hell,” he chuckled, “even my Mom likes you, and we all know what a tough sell she is.” The crowd laughed, and when you glanced over at Gemma, she had tears in her eyes. She gave you a small, approving nod, and that, coupled with Jax’s words, had you crying too. Jax laughed, gently reaching out and wiping your tears away with his thumb, “I love you. And I’m gonna love you for the rest of my life. No matter what life throws at us, I know we can handle it. You and me... we’re meant to be together, baby. We’ve been through enough to know that that’s true,” he smiled down at you, a soft, special smile on his face that was just for you, “I know everyday isn’t gonna be perfect. There’s gonna be times when we argue, but I promise you--here and now, in front of everyone we love, that I will never go to bed angry at you. I promise to always do whatever it takes to make sure you’re safe, and happy, and protected,” he leaned a little closer to you, every inch of him devoted to you and you alone, “I promise that I will be the husband and the man you deserve. And, most importantly... I promise to ride you as much as my Harley.” The room erupted in laughter again, and you were still laughing--and crying--when your husband kissed you again. You knew, from that kiss, that he would keep his promises to you. Every single one. 

Coco Cruz: “I’m not... I’m not fucking great at this,” Coco began, his hands in yours, his eyes darting around the room, “You know, public speaking and all that shit... But, uh, I think it’s important to, uh... To speak my truth, so...” He took a breath, and you squeezed his hands in yours, and that was enough to calm his raging heart. Coco looked at you, his wife, and felt a completeness that he’d never imagined he’d feel in his life. He swallowed, willing himself to speak. “Everybody knows that, when I became a Mayan, when I joined the MC, it changed my life. I was in a bad place, you know? Just came back from Iraq, my mind was all messed up. But the MC helped me get right, you know? And then there was you, and all of a sudden, I realized... I was made for you,” he leaned forward a bit, swaying as he spoke, his hair blocking everyone but you from his sight, “I used to think my life was just some sick fucking joke. Then, when I became a Mayan, I thought it was all about being a warrior, being a brother--and it is. But there’s more to it then that. I didn’t realize until I met you, but... I was born to be with you. From the second I saw you, I knew I needed you. I need you way more than you need me,” he smiled, a soft chuckle coming from his lips, “It’s true,” he turned, addressing his brothers, “You guys remember what it was like, right? When we first started dating?” He was met with low murmurs and laughter. “I was a fucking mess,” he laughed, “I kept asking Taza and Hank how to be a good boyfriend. And somehow Angel ended up giving me advice, which was basically just ‘man up’,” he chuckled, his eyes twinkling as he looked at you, “I just... I just need to say, you’re perfect. And I know you don’t like when I say that, but it’s true. You’re perfect to me. Even when you’re a fucking raging psychopath,” he chuckled at your fake incredulous look, “you’re perfect. You help me see past the bullshit, help me see that life don’t just gotta be some fucking struggle... You make me happy, man. So happy. And I just want to make you happy, too. I want to be a good husband to you, and I’m gonna try. And even on days when shit ain’t perfect, I will still love you with all my heart, so...” He took a breath, his heart pounding as he looked down at you, his perfect person, his wife. “... Let’s fucking party!” You laughed, wiping your happy tears as the room erupted in cheers and the sounds of beer bottles clanking together. This was the first day of the rest of your life, and you couldn’t be happier for it. 

Angel Reyes: Angel sighed, his eyes welling up with tears. “This,” he began, stopping when he heard the sound of his own voice breaking. He cleared his throat, “This is... This isn’t how I imagined it. Like, when I was a kid, I mean. Like, not to be soft and everything, but... I used to think about this day, you know? Me marrying some dope girl, being in love, my family here to celebrate. So I mean... I’m happy,” he nodded, “I’m so... Man, I’m so happy. I didn’t think it was possible to be this happy, just... I feel like... Like I was incomplete before this, you know? Like this woman... she’s the other part of my soul. And I’m so happy, it’s crazy. It’s scary. I keep waiting to mess it up, keep waiting to say or do something to bring it all crumbling down, but... it won’t. I trust that it won’t,” he nodded again, meaning the words he spoke with all of his heart. Angel reached out, his fingers--adorned with no other ring but his wedding ring--brushing against his mother’s altar, “Watching you and Pop... I always wanted a love like yours, and now I got it, and I’m so happy, Ma... I am, but,” he blinked, the first tear falling, “...but I wish you were here to see it. I wish you could have met her; I wish she could have met you. You would have loved her, Ma. Pops loves her, EZ loves her--I tell her about you, but... But it’s not the same,” he wiped his tear, shaking his head a bit, “I know you’re looking down at us from Heaven, I know you see us, see her,” he sniffled, swallowing his tears, “And that’s good enough for me,” he chuckled lowly, “I know you saw when we first met, saw me pulling that machismo crap, trying to impress her. You saw it ain’t work, either,” he laughed again, “I bet it was you that gave me the idea to bring her lunch at work, wasn’t it? Yeah... That has you written all over it, Ma,” he tapped her urn, smiling warmly at the memories, “I love her so much... And I know you would have loved her, too. I just... I want to be a good husband to her... a good father---someday--to our kids,” he took a breath, “So, Ma, please... Be with me now like you were with me when I proposed, give me that same courage and certainty you gave me before, yeah? Cause in a minute, I’m about to go out there in front of all our family and friends, and I’m about to commit myself to this woman for the rest of my life, and I... I need you with me, Mami,” satisfied, he kissed two fingers and pressed them against his mother’s urn, “Thank you.” He straightened up, fixing his hair and wiping his eyes again. Nodding to himself, he walked off, murmuring, “Good chat...” all the way to the altar. 

Miguel Galindo: “I am not a man who can easily admit he was wrong,” Miguel began, chuckling along with the rest of the church at his words, “Okay,” he admitted, shaking his head a bit, “I never admit I was wrong,” he paused, looking into your eyes, and he felt that familiar tug in his chest that he always felt when he looked at you--pure love. “But I was wrong. As many of you know, I was married once before. And I thought that I’d spend the rest of my life with that person. I was wrong,” he reached out for your hand, taking it in his, the warmth of it spreading through his entire body, all the way into his heart, “I was wrong, and I have never been happier to admit that. Because from that failure, came you. And I’m thankful for you every moment of every day,” he smiled, and your heart flipped in your chest at the sight of your soon-to-be-husband, “It isn’t easy to be with me, I know,” he nodded, giving you a silent acknowledgment, “But you... You just know me. You know how to read me, how to get me to talk when I don’t want to,” he laughed, “how to shut me up when I want to talk... I’m at your mercy. And what’s more,” he leaned forward a bit, “...I like it,” his smile widened at the sight of yours, “I remember the day that I realized that I needed you in my life for the long haul. It was when we flew to Iceland. You fell asleep against my shoulder. You were so tired... And I was too. I was frustrated and tired and irritated, but when I looked down at you... Mi amor, I felt nothing but gratefulness. Grateful to have you in my life, grateful to be able to have you by my side, to have you as mine. I’ve been blessed with many great things; a wonderful son, multiple successful businesses, a beautiful home... But it’s you, my love, you who makes me take a step back and really see how lucky I am. Because all of the money in the world would mean nothing if I didn’t have you to share it with,” he reached out and wiped your budding tears, smiling fondly at you, “I love you,” was all he said before he was kissing you, and the resulting applause blooming around you was nothing but white noise with Miguel’s lips against yours. He whispered something against your lips as the church applause your love, just a short, simple sentence that had you crying with love. “Thank you, mi amor, for proving me wrong.”

Nick Amaro: “Gil and Zara and I are so happy to welcome you into our family,” Nick said, giving a special smile to ring-bearer Gil and flower-girl Zara, both of whom grinned back at him, Zara flashing you a quick wave, “Gil keeps saying that I took too long, and Zara says I should have just married you months ago, and they’re both right,” he laughed, “But I wanted to give you this--the wedding, the reception--because I know this is important to you. It’s important to me, too,” he took a breath, looking down at your intertwined fingers before looking up again, smiling at your beautiful face, “I’ve made a lot of mistakes in my life, my career, but you...” He sighed happily, “I know I can get in my own head a lot, but somehow, with you... It just seems like everything falls into place. I mean... That’s your power. You just make everything seem so easy. I see you with the kids, with your job, with me,” he chuckled, “And it’s like you instinctively know what to do, how to handle me. You make it look easy, and you can ask Olivia, dealing with me, isn’t easy.” He looked over at Olivia, her eyes shining with approval as she watched you together. “But you do. For good or bad, better or worse,” he took your hand and brought it to his lips, pressing a quick kiss to the back of it, “I love you. Completely. Totally. And I’m going to continue on loving you until the day I die,” his smile reached his eyes, and they shimmered with love for you, “And probably even after that, to be honest. Every morning when I wake up and see your face, when I hear you and the kids laughing, when I see the joy you bring into our lives... It makes me feel so... secure,” he nodded, pleased at his choice of words, “And you know better than anyone how hard that is for me: to feel secure. You just... You make everything easier, more manageable... And everything I do from here on out is for you and the kids. I love you...Mrs. Amaro.”

Johnny Tuturro: Johnny couldn’t stop smiling. His mom was there, his Graceland family was there, and most importantly--the future Mrs. Johnny Tuturro was standing in front of him, just minutes away from becoming his wife. “Alright, alright, alright,” Johnny began, “Everybody shut up, I got somethin’ to say!” Jakes groaned in the crowd, “Jesus, Johnny, then just say it!” “Don’t rush him,” you called back, giving Jakes a friendly glare. Johnny laughed, kissing your cheek, “Thank you, baby,” he stood up straight, “Look, anyone with eyes can see that my girl is fly,” he started, making everyone laugh, “But for real, the moment I saw her, I knew she was different. I mean, she’s gorgeous, yeah, but she’s also smart, brave, a certified badass--sorry for cussin’, Ma--and the love of my life,” he smiled down at you, eyes soft, “I love you, I love you, I love you. And I am so happy to be making you my wife,” he turned pointing off into the audience at Briggs, “Which by the way--ha HA! I knew she wouldn’t go for you! Best bet I ever took, seeing which one of us was gonna get your number... though I ain’t gonna lie, you had me scared for a moment there when you started getting chummy with Charlie,” he chuckled, “But I was the lucky one. That was the start of the rest of my life, and I want to make every day we have together a perfect day. No matter what life throws at us, what happens at work, what we go through as people or as a couple, we’re always gonna have each other’s backs. Me and you,” he went on, “We were meant to be, baby. Fated. And baby, I promise you, I will be the best husband I can be. Because that’s what you deserve. And as happy as I am to be here with you right now, in front of all of our friends and families... Man, I can’t wait to get out of here and just be with you,” he grinned, and you could see the dirty promise behind those sweet words, “I’m crazy about you, baby girl, and I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you,” he leaned in, kissing you, his next words whispered, so only you could hear him, “can’t wait to have married sex in the limo, either...” 

Rio: When you woke up, the late morning sun painting your body in its light, the first thing you saw when you opened your eyes was Rio’s eyes. They were soft and warm, that deep brown peering down at you and making you feel like the most beloved person on the planet. Which, of course, you were. “So?” He asked, caressing the side of your face with two of those long, sinewy fingers. “So what?” You asked, already in a daze from the softness of his voice and the sweet smile on his face. “So what do you think? How’d the first night of matrimony go? You ready to give back my dowry yet? Sell me back to my father?” You laughed, cuddling closer to him. “Nah, I think I’ll keep you. I mean, you did come with a cow and two chickens, so I guess you’re worth it.” He wrapped his arms around you, and you closed your eyes, melting into his touch. “I love you,” he said, his voice muffled as he buried his face in the crown of your head. “Love you, too,” you said back, rubbing his back. “Hey,” he pulled back a bit, looking down at you, “Yesterday was perfect,” he began, “The wedding, the reception... I ain’t never seen Marcus so excited to talk as he was when he gave his speech.” “Oh, don’t remind me,” you sighed, smiling at the memory, “I cried so hard; it was such a good speech.” “Yeah,” he nodded, kissing your forehead, “He was so proud to be able to tell you how much he loves you,” Rio sighed, “but, here’s the thing, mama... There was one thing about yesterday that I wish I could change.” You frowned, “What?” “I kinda wish we would’ve done vows,” he admitted. “Really?” You asked, eyes wide. You and Rio had decided early on not to have vows, you’d both agreed that it was so private, you didn’t want to make a spectacle out of your love. But hearing him say that he’d wished he’d given you his vows had your heart pounding. He nodded, “Yeah. So... I was thinkin’... Maybe I could say my vows now. I mean, I ain’t write nothing down or anything, but I just wanted to say... I love you. I love what you’ve done to me, to Marcus... I love the way you brighten up my life, how you accepted my son with open arms, how you work so well with me, the way you inspire me, the way you make me want to flip my game. I love how I can tell you everything, how I never have to hide any parts of myself with you,” he titled your chin up, smiling down at you, “I love having you as my wife. I love you, Mrs. Rivera.” He kissed you then, and you kissed him back, sighing against his lips, pressing yourself against him. “So,” he grinned, “How was that? Decent vows?” You laughed, kissing his nose, “Perfect.”

Bonus Boy

Tommy Shelby: “I have something I want to say,” Tommy announced. Everyone in the church grew silent, and you couldn’t help but notice the small smile on Jeremiah’s face as he turned to you. Every eye was on you, and you turned to Tommy, curious as to what he was about to say. “I want it known,” he started, his voice booming through the church, “That this is the last time I’m ever getting married, because this is the woman I was always meant to be with,” he looked over at you, those brilliant blue eyes piercing right through your soul, “Me whole life, I’ve spent planning, thinking, rethinking. Every move I’ve made as a businessman has been a calculated one, but with you,” he said, his focus on you and you alone, “It’s all instinct. I don’t have to overthink or second guess with you, because I can feel that you’re what’s right. You’re what’s been missing. And now that I have you... Well, there’s peace. Peace in me head and me heart that I thought had left for good. And I have you to thank for that. So now, I want to make you a promise, and I want to make it in front of all of our family and friends, because if nothing else, I know Aunt Pol, Jeremiah, and our Ada will make sure I keep it,” he gave you a small smile, and just that one gesture was enough to have you nearly swooning, “So here it is. I promise, from this moment, till the day I die, to always love, honor, and respect you. I will never lie to you, I will never leave you. I am yours,” he promised, “Every part of me; even the parts I don’t like, belong to you. And everyone,” his voice got a bit louder, and he turned a bit, addressing the crowd, “will know that you are Mrs. Tommy Shelby, and they will treat you accordingly.” You smiled; his words were as much an announcement as a threat. “Now, Jeremiah,” he said, a friendly note coming back into his voice, “Let’s get on with this ceremony, eh? I want to take my bride to London.” 

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[americancowgirl19]

Prince of Hell

Summary: You’re Esme’s brother. You two haven’t seen each other in a long time but now she needs your help to keep Renesmee safe.

Warnings: Death, violence, a little fluff and a little angst

Reader: Male Reader

Pairings: Demetri Volturi x Male Reader

Word Count: 3,108

A/n: Might make a part two

Masterlist

Esme stands in the doorway of Renesmee’s bedroom. The little girl sleeps soundly without a care in the world. Carlisle comes up behind her and embraces her tenderly.

“She’s going to be ok, we’ll protect her.” Carlisle whispers kissing the side of her head. A couple of hours earlier Alice had gotten the vision about the Volturi coming for Renesmee. They came up with the plan to find witnesses to protect her. Esme fears that it won’t be enough.

“Nothing will ever be the same,” Esme whispers. “The Volturi won’t forgive those who stand on our side. Not everyone has a coven to protect them when this is over. They could pick them off one by one when they leave.”

“We won’t force anybody to help us, they’ll know what they’re getting into.” Carlisle whispers. Esme sighs turning in his arms.

“There’s another option,” Esme whispers. Carlisle tilts his head. She slips out of his arms and leads him toward the living room where the rest of their family sits. They’re all planning on who is going to go to who. 

Edward’s the first to look up. Esme has no doubt he’s reading her mind by the curious look on his face. A second later, Alice’s eyes go distant. When she comes back, her eyes fall on Esme.

“What is it?” Bella asks noticing both of their looks. Soon, everyone’s looking at Esme.

“When I was human I was married to a dangerous man,” Esme begins. “When I became pregnant I knew I couldn’t stay with him anymore but I didn’t have the money or the resources to leave,” Esme takes a seat on the plush chair toward the middle of everyone. “So, I went to my brother and told him everything. He got me out that night,” Esme smiles softly as she thinks of you. “We had been close as children but drifted apart as adults. But that night it was like nothing had changed. He took care of me, kept me safe,” Her eyes fall down into her lap. “Then I had the baby and two days later... I lost him,”

“Greyson?” Edward question remembering her son.

When Carlisle changed Esme she had a week old son named Greyson. He grew up with them after Esme learned how to control herself.. He didn’t want to become a vampire and had died of a heart attack only a decade ago.

They had been able to hide him from the Volturi. They had only found out about him when Edward went to Volterra when he believed Bella to be dead. By then, however, Greyson was dead.

“Yes, Greyson,” Esme nods. “He had a lung defect. He was supposed to be dead which is why... Why I jumped off the cliff before Carlisle found me.” Carlisle places a comforting hand on her shoulder. She smiles up at him and places her hand over his.

“How did he survive?” Bella asks.

“My brother, Y/n... He sold his soul to save my son.” Esme told them. 

She remembers the day he had done it. Esme had been spiraling and you just knew she wouldn’t live in a world without her son. You couldn’t bare the thought of losing Esme and knew you had to do something to save her son.

By the time you sold your soul, Esme had already jumped off the cliff. You had a few years before the hounds of hell came to collect you. Esme stayed with Carlisle and learned control. A day before your time ended, you found Esme and gave her the five year old son.

“Sold his soul?” Emmett asks, raising an eyebrow. Esme didn’t blame them for being skeptical. There were fewer demons on Earth than vampires. The ones that were on Earth stayed hidden and played with the humans from the shadows.

“He’s a demon.” Alice whispers connecting the dots.

“A demon? Those exist?” Rosalie asks. Esme nods.

“Where do you think nightmares and tragedies come from? Deaths so unexplainable that not even a shapeshifter or a vampire can understand?” Esme asks them. “Most of them are locked away in hell and can only come up if they manage to escape or are summoned by someone. They’re stronger than a thousand newborns combined,”

“That’s why the Volturi were afraid of him,” Alice says thinking back to her recent vision. “None of their powers worked on him and he was more powerful than all of them,”

“So, how do we get in contact with this guy?” Emmett asks.

“It’s not that simple,” Esme tells him. “It’s very dangerous. If we mess up we could be releasing something far more dangerous than him. If we do it right, there’s no guarantee that he’ll help us. He’s been a demon for almost a hundred years, there’s no telling if my brother’s still... himself.” 

Bella turns her head toward Edward. Esme watches them waiting for someone to say something. A few moments later, Edward looks back at Esme.

“How do we contact him?”

The moment the question leaves his lips the room drops in temperature. It’s enough to send a shiver through Jake’s spine. The lights flicker as the windows begin to be covered with frost.

“Ask nicely,” Everyone’s head turns toward the corner. Sitting in the shadows is a man dressed in black slacks and button up shirt along with an equally dark vest. His hands are hidden behind gloves with a leather jacket that reaches down to his midthigh.

“Y/n,” Esme whispers standing up. You smirk and push yourself up as well. With a snap of your fingers the lights return to normal and the frost melts away.

“Sorry for the dramatics... I like to make an entrance,” You states, a lop sided smirk on your lips. “I was in the neighborhood, thought I heard someone talking about me so I decided to drop by.” You explain sauntering into the middle of the living room. Your eyes look around, observing the home around you. “I hear you’re in a bit of a bind, little sister.”

“It’s my granddaughter... She needs your help,” Esme tells you. You chuckle darkly before spinning on your heels to look at her.

“It’s always a child with you, isn’t it?” You ask smirking. She gives you a small, unsure smile. “What do you want me to do? I can’t very well sell my soul, I already did that for your first child. One soul, one child,” You sit in a chair, draping your arm over the back, your ankle resting on your knee.

“Do you know of the Volturi?” Your eyes slide away from your sister to the pixie hair cut girl, Alice. You knew everyone in the room. You had been keeping tabs on your little sister and knew who she came in contact with and who she adopted into her family.

“Ah, yes, the Volturi,” You smirk, looking back at Esme. “They’re good for business. Send plenty of souls to hell for us to feed on,” Your comment makes most of them unease. You soak up the anxiety.

“Mommy?” You’re eyes snap to the little girl by the steps. You stand up at the same time her mother flashes beside her. You had heard about this little girl but this is the first time you’ve seen her.

“So, this is the child you so desperately want to protect,” You state, your eyes remain on the girl as you move closer.

“The Volturi believe she’s an immortal child,” Esme says.

“How idiotic,” You whisper kneeling in front of the child. “Her soul is much too bright and her heart is much too active. Hello, little one,”

“Hi,” She whispers, hugging her mothers waist. You send her a small smile and a playful wink before standing up.

“You never answered my question,” You say, turning back to Esme. “What do you want me to do? Kill the coven? Possess them? Make them fall to their knees and beg for mercy?” By the end your lips are curled into a sadistic grin.

Esme looks at you for a moment and all she can feel is sorrow. When you were human the only person you ever wanted to harm was her husband. Now, you would kill and torture without a second thought. In fact, you seemed to enjoy it. 

Hell had twisted your soul into someone almost unrecognizable. She was relieved that you held a little bit of goodness in your heart to at least consider helping them.

“We just want them to leave us alone,” Esme tells you. You pout at the boring request.

“Well, I can do that,” You nod walking away from the child not failing to notice how the room relaxed as you put distance between yourself and her. “However, I don’t do anything for free anymore. I’m going to need something in return,” You whisper standing toe-to-toe with Esme. You gently brush your knuckles along her cheek like you used to when you were human and she needed to feel safe. “little sister.”

“What do you want?” Esme asks quietly. You hum stepping away from her.

“Oh, the endless possibilities,” You whisper, sitting down in the chair you had previously occupied. “How much is that little girl worth to you?” You ask the people in the room. “Are you truly willing to make a deal with the Prince of Hell?” You ask.

“Prince of Hell?” Jake asks. Your eyes flicker to him.

“Well, at least I’m not the Devil,” You joke before tilting your head side to side. “Not yet at least,” You shrug. “I’ve been in hell for 80 years... That’s human years, time moves differently down there. Once they dragged me down by my ankles I began working my way up with my hands. My ambition has payed off... Who knows, maybe in another 80 years, you’ll have had the pleasure of knowing the Devil?”

“Lucky us,” Emmett mutters.

“Yes, lucky you, indeed” You growled standing up. “I may be the Prince of Hell but I am still your older brother,” You said looking at Esme. “While my services are no longer free, I will always answer your call. You all are her family which makes you my family which means that I will aid you when you need me but like I said... I don’t work for free.”

“So, what’s your price?” Edward asks. You turn to him. You stare at him for a moment before looking around the room.

“A favor,” You tell them. “One favor,” You hold up your pointer finger and spin around for everyone to see. “A favor anybody, or everybody, in this room can fulfill,”

“And the favor?” Bella asks, tightening her hold on Renesmee. Your smirk you send her is enough to strike fear into her unbeating heart.

“I don’t know,” You shrug putting your hands behind your back. “I will come whenever I am in need of your services. You fulfill my favor and you’re free. I will make sure Renesmee is protected from the Volturi and all will be well again,”

“No,” Esme shakes her head regaining everyone’s attention. You arch an eyebrow at her. “You want someone to do you a favor, you ask me, not my family.” She says sternly. “I will not allow you to hold this over their head,” You smirk deviously.

“You’ve grown clever, little sister” You praise her. “Much smarter than you had been as a human, I’m proud.” Esme holds your gaze. “Fine,” You give in. “One favor and only Esme can fulfill it,” The rest of the family tries to argue but you ignore them and walk up to your sister. “Please don’t die before I cash that favor in,”

“You’ll know how to find me,” Esme tells you. You nod before giving her the first genuine smile you’ve given anyone in decades.

“I am truly happy to see you, little sister,” You whisper to her. You gently kiss her forehead. “Renesmee will be safe, I promise,” You vow because vanishing in thin air.

Within a few seconds, the Volturi castle began to suffer the same side effects of your arrival. All the vampires looked around as the lights flickered and frost covered the windows. When the lights went back to normal, the vampires noticed a new presence in the middle of the throne room.

A few of the Volturi guards hissed in alarm but you paid them no mind. Your eyes zeroed in on the man in the middle, Aro.

“Who are you?!” Caius shouted, standing from his throne. You ignore him which doesn’t help his temper.

“I’ve come to inform you that Renesmee Cullen is not an immortal child, she’s a hybrid. Leave the Cullens alone and I’ll allow you to live.” Aro chuckles while Caius glares harder. Marcus seemed indifferent but his eyes continued to go from you to another vampire.

“And what proof do you have to back up your statement?” Aro asks, stepping closer to you. You smirk.

“I don’t have to answer to you and I’ve already given you your warning. Shall you continue to go against the Cullens, there will be... consequences.” You warn him. “I’ll be watching,” Once the final word leaves your lips, you disappear.

“Intriguing,” Aro whispers before turning to Demetri. “Find him.” Aro orders. Demetri bows before leaving. Only problem, he can hardly feel your tenor. 

You kept your eye on the Volturi. Just as you hoped, Aro didn’t stop planning against the Cullens. You were about to prepare yourself to make another appearance when you sensed something.

“I’ve never met anyone who could sneak up on me,” You state, walking to the chair to put your jacket on. “Although, you are the first who’s been able to sneak into my home.” You turn toward the intruder. He slowly comes out of the shadows. 

You stare at him and tilt your head. He’s certainly one of the more attractive vampires you’ve seen. Then there’s the fact that he was able to hunt you down. You were impressed and highly curious.

“How did you find me?”

“It’s my ability... I can find anybody,” You hum moving closer to him. His scent begins to fill the room and it was slowly captivating your attention.

“But I’m not just anybody,” You whisper, inching closer to him. “Vampire abilities aren’t supposed to work on me... Not like they usually do, at least”

“And why is that?” He questions. You begin to smirk, sauntering even closer. He shifts on his feet but his eyes remain locked with yours.

“Why do you think?” You ask, not hesitating to invade his personal space. “Come on,” You whisper, taking a deep whiff of his scent. “You know the answer,” Demetri doesn’t answer. “You and your kind wonder the Earth thinking your the demons but you’re just child’s play.”

“Why do you care about the Cullens?” Demetri asks.

“I had a human life at one time, a human life I shared with a Cullen. They asked for a favor and I’m about to go back to the Volturi to finish it. Care to join me?” You ask, offering him your arm. He looks at it, pinching his eyebrows. “It’ll be a lot faster if we do this my way,” You whispers, sending him a wink.

Hesitantly, Demetri links arms with you. You grin at him and transport the both of you from your apartment to the Volturi Castle. When you arrive, Caius stands alarmed. Demetri moves to the side to stand with his fellow guardsmen. 

“Aro, Aro, Aro,” You tsk slowly. “You were warned,”

“And I explained that I needed proof. I have to protect us, this child may be a threat.” Aro states.

“Maybe,” You shrug. “But you won’t be around to see it,” You tell him. A few of the vampires growl at you. You pay them no mind. 

You then feel a prick in the back of your mind. A familiar feeling you get when a vampire tries to use their abilities on you. Your eyes shift to the blond girl by the steps.

“Performance issues, sweetheart?” You smirk. She snarls at you. You raise your hand to grab the vampire that tried to attack you. You grab his throat and lift him off the ground. “Sloppy,” You whisper and squeeze your hand so tight that his head just pops off. You then straight your vest and adjust your jacket. “Anyone else?” You ask, opening your arms welcomingly. 

A most of the guard tries to take you down but you don’t break a sweat dismembering them. They try to use their powers but they’re ineffective on you. You turn your head and notice Demetri standing by you. He rips a nearby guard member to pieces. He turns back to you, his eyes pitch back.

You slowly grin finding his black eyes just ask attractive as his ruby red ones. Tearing your gaze from Demetri, you look back at Aro. The king hisses but before he can move you’re in front of him. You place your hand on either side of his face forcing him to look into your eyes.

“You believe vampires don’t have a soul,” You whisper. “How wrong you are,” You chuckle, feeling your eyes blazing brightly. “You have a soul... It’s just pitch black. No worries, I’ll rid you of it.” Aro begins screaming as you suck his soul out of his body.

As Aro dies in your hands, what’s left of the guard disperses. When Aro’s soul is gone, you toss his body to the side feeling refreshed. It was the first time you consumed a vampire soul. Demon usually leave vampires along but after having a taste of the power his soul gives you. You want more.

“Well, Demetri,” You hum turning toward him. “I have a mission,” You walk down the steps. “At the moment, I am known as the Prince of Hell,” Demetri raises his eyebrows at you. “I don’t plan on staying a mere prince. I want the whole kingdom, I want to be king.” You state stopping in front of him. “Consuming the souls of vampires might just give the power I need to overthrow the current monarch.”

“And?” Demetri asks. You smirk, brushing the tips of your fingers along his jaw.

“Help me, Demetri,” You whisper, loving how his name rolls off the tongue. “Help me find vampires, help me become king, and I will give you everything you desire” You promise, trailing your fingers down his throat and over his chest. “I’ll give you the world and I will give you Hell.” You smirk playfully.

“I know just where to start,”

[jawllines]

“You’re really gonna go in there?” Y/N queries gently, and Harry only nods his head in response, reaching for the door handle. An urgent, delicate touch of Y/N’s hand startles him, looping around his wrist and dragging his attention toward her, “Shouldn’t we have a game plan if something is behind the door?” She asks, her hold on him tightening just a little, and Harry notes how soft her palm feels against his skin, “Like, let’s say we open the door and a behemoth is standing there, what do we do?”

“The only behemoth that could fit in this tiny room is the band from Poland, Babe, and I reckon they have better things to do on a Thursday night,” he retorts, clenching around the knob and tilting it down, “Now unless you want to hold hands in there. . .”

She lets go before he can finish, and he doesn’t have to look back at her face to know she’s irate. A small smile quirks at his mouth as he pushes his shoulder against the heavy door to aid him opening it, bracing himself to see something potentially horrid. . .

And there’s nothing.

or

Harry and Y/N are witches, they hate each other, and something’s coming

19K+ words

(A/N: Hiii!! So, I’ll be honest I know absolutely nothing about real witches at all, so what is in this story is not fact! it’s just an AU and doesn’t speak toward any of my real witches out there unless i accidentally got some things right. Happy reading, I really liked writing these guys I hope you like them just as much!!)

i.

It was dark. 

Both in the state of the sky and the feeling that slithered through Y/N’s body while she tended to the Brugmansia finally flowering in her garden. The shift in the air could have easily been inculpated by the cool breeze that blew past her face, shepherding clouds thick and heavy with autumn rain, but Y/N knew better than that. Those feelings typically bring her peace; the rattle of thunder soothes her aching bones while fat drops paint the pavement, wet the dirt to mud, and feed the drying grass.

This feeling made her bones rattle. It crawled beneath her skin like billions of tiny beetles unearthed within her vessels; her stomach churned, her shoulders were weighed down, there was a gnawing pain at her temples, so fierce she held her hand to them. The cold brass of her ring cools her heated skin. This feeling was vile, it was awful, for fuck sake what was causing it? 

She stood from her crouched position and slid back into her store. Technically, she’d closed about three hours prior so she should have been home well by now, but when she’d finally gathered her things in her duffle at 12, she looked out the back window and noticed some of her moonflowers had begun to bloom. There was a small part of her that had been reluctant to step outside at all, but she needed to greet them and water them, no matter the odd, unfamiliar troubling sense that had initially confused her. She ignored it -- she thought maybe she was just nervous to say hi to them, sometimes she was. 

(Flowers and plants hold a special connection with their caretaker, from a tiny seed to a flourishing garden, they place their lives in the care of the earth or a human. If not properly nursed, their wilted petals appear so quickly, a silent plea for water, or sun, or even a little attention -- Y/N found that plants liked a little attention. That’s why she spoke to them, she cooed and gave them well-wishes when she left them alone. They felt just a part of her family as any blood relative had, from the moment she had sliced the tip of her finger in a torn brush and the petal she’d touched afterward fused together her tiny wound. Her nan had always told her that maybe she was a bit closer to plants than others were, so she probably shouldn’t share this with kids in her class because they might be jealous of her (Y/N knows now her nan just didn’t want her getting picked on.) 

It was clear to her now that this feeling was a bit more than that when her goose pimples sunk back into her skin after stepping into the warmth of her store. Though it was not just because she had been keeping her shop pleasantly warm as the nights grow colder and longer; she kept herself protected in here. In between these walls lied a sanctitude that kept all evil out, in all manners, of all species, besides two. 

One of which is her bunny, Thumper, who in all ways but emotionally was her familiar. He was a ghostly white Holland lop, with big dopey ears that she slid her fingers beneath and flipped up and down in spare moments. She accuses him of being evil because he’s always nipping at her fingertips, demanding food with a stomp of his foot, and gives the silent threat that he’ll nibble on her plants if she really pisses him off (he stands by them, twitches his little nose and shows his two front teeth until she gives him what he wants -- it’s usually more hay). He’s nothing but a little, greedy nuisance that showed up on her step one day and hadn’t left since.

The other. . .well, the other was Harry Styles. 

Y/N liked most witches, no matter their point of interest. She knew that there could be a certain level of distrust amongst the syndicate -- hexes, and curses placed upon one another, but she tried to stay out of that -- she held no disfavor toward most of the others either. Everyone connected with things very differently, what she may connect with might not be that of what her neighbor connected with and that was okay. Her nan’s emotions had been in accord with the sea, and even though Y/N spent most of her life fearing water, she bore no judgment. 

What she does is done in the mind of good favor, of bettering oneself with the world around them in a way that would beneficial to not only them but the people in their lives. Open up otherwise closed eyes to the beauty of the spirit and soul they possess, and the beauty and soul that the world around them held. The town she had moved to at 20 was so rich in natural beauty, ponderosa pine and hemlock trees grew tall in an extensive, juniper green forest almost always clouded with thick fog, the soil was soft and fertile, the air was crisp and clean. She felt happy here and wanted the others around her to recognize how lucky they were to be in an area so free of sordidity. 

There was an empty shop up the brick road of the older part of town, that had been crowded in cobwebs, leaves that had blown in from the broken window, and animal droppings. Her nan came to help her clean it up (her mum had too, but she was dog tired after her workweek so spent most of the visit asleep on Y/N’s couch), and did something short of absolving the land so that she could grow a garden behind the store, in the clearing of 200 or so meters before it meets the mouth of the forest. She sold herbs, people came to her for intricate, meaningful bouquets with flowers that could not be found in just any store (and she was good to her plants, so if she asked very kindly, and sent them with a packet that produced a very special brew when dumped in the water, they would live very, very, suspiciously long), plants that would liberate people of their aches and pains so long as they tended to them, journals of reused paper, scrubs, oils. . .there were many things. She offered classes too, to help people learn how to better cater to their flowers.

That had been a year ago, so she was still finding her footing, but not six months into this happy reality she had created for herself, Harry Styles had come to town. It took nothing but a few minutes of coming to contact with him that he was a bad apple, and when the once sweet-tempered town had begun mottling with dark splotches, she knew for sure. Harry was like her, but his book of shadows had pages filled with wicked words of revenge, conjuring demons and letting them wreak havoc. His business was more under the cuff -- he posed as a writer who needed a scenery change for his work, but Y/N knew it had to be more than that -- but he did his bidding in the night, seeding through clubs, in alleyways, in the forest. . .if someone knew about Harry, it was because they knew a guy who knows a guy. 

And for some reason, unbeknownst to her, he refused to leave her be. 

This is why it almost makes sense that the bell of her store would jingle brightly no matter the fact she’d locked the doors hours ago, and her attention would be brought to the pest himself. He wore a sweater that threatened to swallow him whole, and baggy, holey jeans he rolled at the cuff showing off his bat printed socks, stuffed into grandpa-Esque loafers. The necklace he always wears around his neck (a small pendant that she had never gotten close enough to make out) is sat atop of his sweater today rather than hidden beneath it as it usually is. His hair is getting longer, more unruly with his warm brown curls than it had been when she first met him -- she really hadn’t known he’d had curly hair until the more recent months when it had started growing out. 

His eyes were always the same soft, crystal green that matched his character none, and a pawky smirk on his mouth as he dragged his fingers along the lavender jars placed on her shelves, “Shouldn’t you be home by now? I figure it’s past your bedtime.” He leans down like he is about to pick something up, and when Y/N peers over the counter, she sees him slide his hand beneath Thumper’s soft white belly and pull him up to his chest. That was another indicator that Harry was just no good -- he was the only human that he liked, and the little creatine didn’t even like her. 

“Shouldn’t you?” She flips it, continuing to gather her things so she could head home for the night.

“You know these are my typical hours, Babe -- everyone wants to curse someone at 1 AM, there was a study done in the east end.” He pets between Thumper’s ears as he sets him down on the counter beside the cash register, before he reaches out for the wooden crafted incense burners, “Have these cheap little things been selling any?” 

“Piss off,” she stuffs her phone into her purse, then flips through her things to make sure her wallet was tucked in there as well, “What do you want, Harry? I’m about to go home, if you wanted to come around to bother me you should have hours ago.”

Harry feigns a gasp like he does any time she curses, “Thought good little witches didn’t have such foul tongues?” He flicks the candle jar on her counter, an apple scent had been melting around the wick for the better half of the day, “I don’t want anything in particular, just passing through. You know you’re right in the way of the forest, don’t you? S’kinda of obnoxious when you’re trying to summon imps at the cave -- they hate the bloody “stench” of the flowers.” 

“Good,” she retorts, “You shouldn’t be summoning around here anyway, this area’s off-limits.”

It was barely an agreement but still an agreement nonetheless -- if Harry left her be, she would leave him be because Y/N wasn’t an idiot. If he wanted a fight, Harry could start one and he would fight dirty. All she asks him is to stay away from her store and her flat, and to keep away from certain areas of the forest where the soil was always soft -- in return, he would do his activities, sometimes he would need her flowers for different spells and she would turn a blind eye to what he was doing. She does a few gentle protection spells here and there but otherwise, he’s a free man to do as he pleases, just so long as he respects her request. He’d seemed perturbed by the conditions none -- had even chuckled and said as long as he let her keep her “pretty little flowers” he could get away with murder. 

A heavy, weary sigh leaves him, “Yes, I’m well aware,” he rolled his eyes before crossing his arms on top of the counter and tucking his face in his elbow,  “Gimme a moment though, it’s warm in here and I was freezing outside.” He muffles into his sweater. 

Y/N had almost forgotten what she had felt prior to coming back inside, but his words bring it clearly to the forefront of her mind once more. She shifted her weight from foot to foot, hearing the floorboards creak beneath her as she wondered if he’d felt it too. It couldn’t have been him -- no, he was powerful but by no means powerful enough to conjure up something like that. And she’d like to ask him, but Harry has never been someone who took her seriously -- he would just make a joke of it, probably, or tease her. It wouldn’t be worth asking. 

But the feeling that she’d gotten is chewing on her memory, so she asks anyway, “Hey,” she began and the only indication that he was listening to her is the fact his fingers stopped tapping against the wood beneath them, “Did you. . .when you were outside, did you feel that?” 

He picks his head up from the crevice of his arm, “You’re gonna have to be a bit more descriptive than ‘that’,” his brows are raised as he continues, “Are you talking about the new pleasant but cold breeze we’ve gained for autumn, or the gut-twisting odious one?” 

Y/N looks at him impassively, “The latter, idiot.” 

“Yeah, I felt it,” he ignores her insult, “What about it?” 

The skin between her brows pinches, “Are you not concerned? It felt. . .bad,” she couldn’t think of a better word to describe it, “I didn’t like it at all.” 

“Are you scared?” There is delight swimming in Harry’s gaze as he stands up straighter, “Don’t tell me Glinda the Good Witch herself is scared of a little frightening feeling? I thought you were tough as nails and all that, hm?” 

“Never mind, forget I even brought it up,” she tried to dismiss it, as she slings her purse over her shoulder and plucks Thumper up to sit him in the cradle of her arms -- she knew better than to ask him like she might get any comfort at all from his words. 

He steps up and in front of her before she could start toward the door, “Oi, listen scaredy-cat, I don’t know if you’re aware but I deal with shite like this all the time, which means I’ve got a few banishments spells up my sleeve. If it’s really something that awful, I’ll cast it back to hell, easy as that.” Harry follows close behind her as she exits the door, feeling the same shiver of fear slither through her body, “I do want to see what it wants first though.” 

“Of course you do,” she utters in disappointment, “Just keep it away from my garden, please.” 

“I’ll try,” he tells her just as she reaches her car before he dips into his pocket and reveals that he’d stolen a baggy of chamomile, “If I didn’t keep your precious garden safe, then I wouldn’t have anywhere to get enchanted chamomile, and it works lovely in a sleepy time tea, I’ll tell you that -- your lavender is shit though. Never puts me to sleep like it ought to.” 

She pops open her car door, “Stop taking stuff from the store, or I’ll start lacing it with laxatives.” 

“While you’re doing that, won’t you plant them Clathrus mushrooms? I reckon the imps would prefer them way more than the mums.” He looks serious -- not a trace of a joke laced in his features and somehow that leaves Y/N more irritated than if he were laughing at her as he spoke. 

Her response is blunt, “No.” 

“Listen --”

“Harry, I’m not going to plant mushrooms for the damn imps!” 

                                                         .                             .                          .

When Y/N had met Harry, she was angry. 

She had never been a very angry person. Seldom has someone or something truly has gotten so deeply beneath her skin that she felt the need to yell or grump about it -- mild irritation was never off the table, but true, unadulterated wrath and resentment? It was rare she ever felt the need to even make a snide comment. And that wasn’t to say she was better than anyone else, she was just mild-tempered and forbearing. . .it took a little more than a remark or two to make her angry.

But when she was angry, she was an amalgamation of vexation and fire, and there was no surer way to disrupt her peaceful demeanor than to compromise her flowers. 

The day had been uneventful up to that point. It’d been a week since Harry had moved into town and Y/N was surely feeling the negativity that followed in his wake, but she was focusing on maintaining the tranquil, idyllic environment that she had around her previous. As much as she would have loved to seek him out, ready to squabble, tell him off for bringing any dark energy into such a calm place -- she had to come at it pragmatically. She and her friend Niall (who wasn’t a witch but knew about her) had both agreed that while it was aggravating, they didn’t know him. They did not understand the depth of his power, or what he was here for, nor had they understood wholly what he was capable of. Y/N had felt his presence, but Niall had confirmed it after hearing the underground chatter of a dark witch who made promises to turn glitter to gold. 

She was on her way to her store. Though she was closed on weekends, she always went by to check on the flowers, water them, tell them about her day, and with her was Thumper who would be hopping around the grassy field and gnawing on the blades. It was very peaceful -- the time she spent with her plants -- so she always looked forward to it, but that day she was filled with trepidation as she parked her car. Something was off. . .not in the air, but with her flowers -- she could feel it deep in her marrow that they were in pain. 

So she huffed it to the back of the store, and there she found Harry, two of her purple vervains nestled against his palm. He noticed her before she could even think to say anything, and something short of relief had flushed through him, “Oh thank fuck, you’re here,” he sighs, referencing her garden with a wave of his hands, “I cannot for the life of me remember what hazel looks like.” 

“What the hell are you doing?” Y/N demanded, stomping toward him, but instead of shoving him to the ground like she wanted to, she dropped to her knees and caressed the remaining vervain, “Why would you pluck them like that? They aren’t ready!” 

“Ready? They’ve flowered haven’t they?” His brows had been tilted while his mouth dipped in a frown, “I need them for an incantation, figured you wouldn’t mind if I borrowed these two. Aren’t we meant to help each other out?”

 “You should have asked, you prick,” she pointed up at him, “And even if you had, I would have said no. I don’t know what you’re doing here, but you’re really disturbing an otherwise pleasant place. I wish you would leave.’ 

Harry feigned hurt, placing a hand to his chest, “You wound me,” he mocks her, “Listen Glinda Good Witch, we all gotta get by somehow, yeah? Not all of us talk to plants or whatever it is you do. So do you want me to pay or --” 

“Those won’t work for whatever it is you’re trying to do,” she cut him off, “If it’s something with cruel intent, it won’t happen -- they were grown to do good.” 

“Which is exactly why I needed them from you,” he wiggles them in her direction, “Well, I need to get going. You’re awful in particular about a garden that is subpar at best. Wish you well, see you later.” 

Then he left. No guilt, no apology -- he just up and left, and Y/N was livid. 

(Later that night when she had explained the situation to Niall, he was nothing short of outraged, so they had tried to find out more about Harry. Anything about him, really, but he leaves a very little paper trail in his endeavors -- from public records they find that he’s 25 and from Holmes Chapel, and from a google search they find he has two books out, published online, and doing decently well. There was nothing else apart from that, he kept his socials pretty dry, and what he did post was nonsensical drivel.)

Y/N thinks about this, as she sinks into her tub, the burning water scalding against her skin. Harry had always driven her mad but he has never seemed half as angry as she was -- hell if anything he always seemed like he enjoyed it. 

He was just absolutely rotten. 

                                                           .                                  .                           .

Harry thinks Y/N is just absolutely rotten. 

There were many reasons that he had classified her as such, but namely what he was concerned about now was how she kept her shop closed on the weekends. 

Who kept their store closed the entire bloody weekend?

It wasn’t so much that he wanted to see her -- Harry actually found the girl quite plaguy. Her opinions on his practice were priggish, not unlike the others like them he had met in the past. There has always been an unfaltering stigma that was carried with what he did, one that was quite hard to shake within the factions of other witches that are sprinkled across the world. He’s seen as careless, cruel, greedy, and selfish -- he doesn’t practice magic for the love of the world around him, to feel a deeper, spiritual connection with the fecund soil that covered the earth, or with the water gently slipping past rocks along a stream bank. They look at him and see someone who shakes hands with the devil and ruins lives for a cookie. 

Harry lets them think as they wish, he has no patience to attempt correcting them. If they’d bothered to learn an inch about him at all before passing their judgment then they would have a clue about his true character, but the jury had already made the decision before Harry even realized he was on trial. They never really wanted to give Harry a chance, so he knew he would be hated no matter where he decided to reside. The pack mentality that they carry is the reason he has to move around so often though (more than any 25 years old was typically doing) he gets run out of a lot of areas because a group of soft witches decides he’s no good. 

That’s what drew him to this place -- there was practically nobody. He could sense when there were more like him loitering around an area, and made an effort to keep a decently low profile so that he could stay around longer (but they always managed to find him), but here, he only sensed one. That had been good enough for him to know this was the right move -- the beautiful scenery surrounding them; the soft bed of dirt that Harry’s feet would sink into easily; the dense, damp fog that covered the forest floor in the early mornings; the lush, green trees and how life seemed to remain there when it was meant to be waning in the colder months -- all of that, had only been a plus. 

When he’d met Y/N, he knew that she disliked him, but Harry had expected as much so it disturbed him none. If anything, he was delighted to have a purer witch than himself around, all things considered. There were no others that she could develop a hive mind with to drive him out of town, but she was no competition to the businesses that he provided, and when a decoction called for an obscure plant or an unsullied petal -- well, a Garden witch was not the worst kind to have nearby. She may be devout in her notions that Harry was a disagreeable, repugnant being, but she was good at what she did. Anything done with her plants was twice as effective as any other person’s flowers he’d used in the past, so it was necessary he bothered her often. 

She refused to sell to him -- something about her doing business with a demon, or whatever she’d said -- but so long as he doesn’t go and cut them from the stem himself, she helps him out. Will give him the plants he needs, and in return, he doesn’t taint certain areas of the town and the forest that she declared were off-limits. It was a spoken commercial agreement that both of them went by and because of it, their lives near to one another were comparatively peaceful to any other situation Harry has found him in prior. 

That didn’t come without its faults. They butt heads often, their bickering is nonstop, and Harry could think of many things he would rather do than have to stay in a room with her for longer than the ten minutes it takes him to get what he needs. It was fun to fluster her -- getting beneath her skin was an easy feat that he found a lot of joy in, and sometimes she gave him a run for his money. He always kind of liked making a normally mild-tempered person grump at him a little, if not for his impish ways, then so he could get to know them as their full self. 

So he wasn’t mad that she was closed because he particularly wanted to see her, no, he was mad because he was exhausted. Absolutely drained. The business was incredible when you’re the only dark witch willing to do some questionable, immoral things, but that also meant long nights and incredible emotional toil -- it wasn’t a walk in the park to conjure up a bloody demon! 

Ever since Harry had started this path, he’d had immense trouble sleeping at appropriate times, if he could fall asleep at all. He guesses this was what he gets in return for what he practices, and it could be worse so he doesn’t mind it too much, but it was still a hassle. It had been a good four years since Harry just had a good, peaceful night of sleep. 

Up until he had moved here, of course, because the same little garden witch that thought he was the devil incarnate, made a tea he could brew that set him right to sleep. Kept him asleep the entire night too, which had always been an impossible endeavor spanning back to when he was a child, but there was something about her chamomile -- hell, it really knocked him out. 

He tested his theory -- part of him thought that maybe chamomile was suddenly working for him, but no matter the brand that he tried, or the amount of tea he drank, none of it could compare to what Y/N’s did. When he visited her store, he took what he could to hold him off to the next time he came by. He hadn’t realized how low he was though when he had seen her last and she threatened to lace it with laxatives -- he should have taken two because he used his last bit the night prior to the one he’s suffering through right now. 

And he could have gotten more this morning if she didn’t close her stupid shop on weekends!

If Harry were not positive that he needed to rest, he wouldn’t bother to be trying. There was nothing worse to him than the laying in his bed and waiting for sleep that refused to come...it felt like he was being stood up by a date. It hasn’t happened often, but enough that Harry could match the feeling low in his stomach, indicative of discontent and sadness while he waited. . . . .and waited. . . .and waited. . . .and waited. 

It was useless -- the universe’s retribution for summoning spirits to the living world left him with what a doctor might diagnose as chronic insomnia, but none of the treatments did him any good. No mortal medicinal could soothe him of this ailment. So one would think he would be smarter about keeping a hearty stock of it at his disposal rather than one at a time, but Harry never claimed to be the best at planning ahead. 

And now here he was, staring at his ceiling fan whirl, his cat at his side while he contemplated if breaking and entering her shop was against his morals (he had a few left, surprisingly). 

God, she was so rotten! 

                                               .                                     .                                 .

“Have you felt weird lately?” 

“Hm?” Niall’s face scrunches up in confusion, his mouth stuffed full of noodles he just slurpped into his mouth, “Wha’ d’ya mean?” He muffles out, reaching over to her side of the table for a napkin to dab at the corners of his mouth.

The record store that Niall worked at wasn’t too far from Y/N’s shop so if her day wasn’t too busy, she would step away from the store for her lunch break and seek him out. It was never a planned ordeal; Y/N would stop off somewhere to get them something to eat and appear at his storefront, the sharp ding of the bell knotted on the door alerted him of her presence. He was always one of two places: in the back, tuning the old guitars the owner would bid on different websites, or he was in the front thumbing through the record baskets, organizing and reorganizing them by name. Sometimes he would be sat behind the counter, with his feet kicked up just beside the register but Y/N scolds him for that (he’s always wearing a dingy, scuffed pair of shoes that have no business seeing the light of day, let alone be shown off to others). 

His head would perk up, he would look toward the door, and his face would bloom into one of sheer delight as he would call over to her, “Oh, thank fuck! Thought I would go crazy if I had to listen to myself think for one more second.” 

Today was no different. She brought him ramen from the place three buildings down from his own, where she bends down a street that feels more like an alleyway and the door is hidden beneath a brassy fire escape. The owners were always very kind to her, and since she came often and tipped well, they would give her free bowls if they were in the mood. Y/N never liked the idea of a one-sided relationship with a business, so she always brought them herbs, and gardenias to plant at home (they were the husband’s favorite). She takes their fliers and posts them up in high traffic areas too, and when they have their business cards made and an extra hundred or so, she slips them in the paper baggies that she gathers her customer’s things in before sending them on their way. 

Niall was grateful. He did a little cheer, left his spot from behind the counter, and urged her to follow him to the back where the break room was located (if a customer came around he would hear the bell and duck his head out to greet them, but for the most part their Tuesdays were pretty uneventful). He told her he had sensed her coming so he already had two stools set out for them to sit on, and napkins placed in the middle of the table, but she’s almost a hundred percent sure they had been left like that last time she was here. 

Try as she might to let her mind flee from the dark, hazed feeling that had overcome her last week, she couldn’t. Even as she listened to Niall prattle about some Gibson Les Paul custom that the owner purchased a while back, she struggled not to wonder what it was that was worming itself into her brain; slick tendrils of dismay overcame her. The true, unadulterated, execrable feeling only truly hits her in the night if she is outside the safety of her home or her shop, but otherwise, it was memories of this haunting aura that struck her throughout the day.

She couldn’t place her finger on it though, what it could be. There are feelings she garners when Harry summons certain spirits, but she can typically tell when he’s doing that, and they’ve never felt so. . .evil, before. What Harry deals with is evil, sure, but this was so smothered in turpitude that she couldn’t make it out. Like spilling black ink over a letter written in blue. 

That’s why she asks Niall -- it feels too strong for it to be something only felt by her and Harry. It would also soothe her mind if someone had felt it as horribly and heavily as she did, considering it wasn’t affecting Harry enough that he would try to banish the damn thing before things went sour. 

“Like, do things just not feel. . .off, to you?” She didn’t want to feed him any impressions of what she might be speaking about -- she would like to know if it were true to him. Niall is sweet as he could be, but not always when it was appropriate; he would tell her he did just to spare her from feeling foolish. It’s why she thought berets were her thing for about a month when really she looked like a washed-up indie artist trying too hard (Niall had agreed they weren’t her best fashion venture, but he certainly didn’t think they were that bad). 

His face contorts in a pout as he mulls it over in his head, stabbing his fork into the noodles and catching a bit of pork on two of the pronks, “Hm, let’s see. . .” he looks like he’s spinning through a Rolodex, “I have not for the life of me mustered enough energy to have a wank in about a week, that’s some cause for concern,” when she responds with a blank stare, he holds his hands up, “Okay, fine -- Butternut was biting at the air when I took him on his walk the other night -- like. . .chomping at it, I was actually gonna ask you what that might be about.”  

Now, don’t get Y/N wrong, any other time Niall would have told her that his great Pyrenees puppy was yapping and chomping at the wind, she would have brushed it off. “Niall, you’re just going to have to accept that he’s going to be a big, sweet dummy when he’s older.” But she was so desperate for something, anything -- because if something felt it other than she and Harry, then she wouldn’t feel quite as crazy. 

“Sometimes it feels a bit like something’s watching me,” he tacks on at the end, taking the brown napkin from the stack in between them and dabs roughly at his mouth, “At night, when I’m walking Butternut, I get these chills but there’s no wind around.” 

Y/N leans forward, thankful, “Yeah?” she presses, “Is it like -- describe it. What does it feel like?” 

“Y’know, I do forget you’re a witch until times like these,” he leans back in his chair, a heavy sigh slides from his lips before he closes his eyes like he’s trying to place himself back at the moment, “I’ll tell ya what, it’s fuckin’ -- it’s a bit like I feel it right down to my bones, but then --” he opens his eyes, raises his closed fists and flicks his fingers out at her, “Poof, s’gone as quick as it came and I forget about it. My nan used to tell me that was the devil patting your shoulder, but if it went away quick s’because an angel kicked his arse out of there.” 

It’s enough, Y/N decides, so she nods and relaxes back in her seat, “Okay, good.” 

“Good?” His brows furrow, as he reaches for his can of soda and the aluminum can crinkles beneath his fingers, “Tell you that I get chills and you’re relieved? Should I be relieved too, or worried?” 

“It isn’t anything to concern over, I don’t think,” she explains to him, “If anything changes I’ll let you know.” 

Niall uses one of his fingernails to dig the dirt from beneath the other, “Did that Harry bloke muster some horrible demon up again?” His voice is laced with vexation. Niall wasn’t a hard guy to get along with -- he was loud and Irish, could chat up a storm about anything and everything, and while he could be scrappy at times, it was for all the right reasons. He was equanimous in most situations, even-tempered to a fair degree; if Y/N were in a situation where a cool, calm collected head would be the best approach then Niall was definitely the person she wanted on her side. 

(Like when they had to drive home from a day trip to the massive lake just north of them, but the roads hadn’t been pretreated for the icy sleet that gripped the pavement. He drove them the whole way on the windy roads with little traction from the tires to the road, and was still bobbing his head and singing along to Ed Sheeran on the radio). 

But Harry Styles? Oh, the mention of his name could dig right beneath Niall’s skin. Y/N would like to think that it was because he was so cruel to her, but she knows that there are two main reasons Niall is not too fond of him nor his craft. One of which is the fact that he slept with Liana (she happened to be one of Niall’s flings at the time -- there were plenty, but Y/N only remembered this one’s name because she shared it with a woody stem rooted to the forest soil that made for easy climbing), and the other, the fact that he had helped the captain of the opposing summer footie team with one of his enchantments to make them win. There are few things Niall cares for so deeply that he would dislike someone, but his sex life and his footie were two things a person just couldn’t mess up for him. 

“No, it wasn’t him this time,” she clears her throat, pushing the rest of her ramen around idly, “It’s a bit too strong to be his doing -- more sinister too. He conjures mostly petty demons; the little ones that don’t have much better to do anyway. This is something. . .I don’t know, it just feels different.” 

Niall sighs heavily, “Well, thanks for that, reckon I won’t be sleeping tonight,” he pushes the container away from himself to signify he’s done and when she takes a peek inside and sees nothing but a few noodles limp along the sides, “I like that you keep me in the loop, but sometimes I wish you would let me live in ignorance.” 

“You know, I would apologize, but you’ve gone into an in-depth description of your arsehole to me so I thought any boundaries and forms of secrecy were long gone by now.” 

His brows furrow features contorting into that of the same desperation he had come to her with two months ago, “Ugh, c’mon! You’re practically like a witch doctor or somethin’, I thought you would have a cream or something for it.” 

“You had a hemorrhoid, Niall, for fuck sake! Even if I were a “witch doctor” then I would never let you put anything that came from my plants on your filthy bum.” 

Niall stands, gathering their trash from the break room table but using his free hand as he passes her, he swats her shoulder, “You better be nice to me, or you’re gonna have to start eating lunch with Styles.” He steps on the level for the waste bin, throwing the trash in the bag, “Though I think you two would just end up hate fucking and the food would go cold.” 

“No,” she rolls her eyes, “I would never let that Gremlin near my naked body.” 

“Listen, I’m not saying I want the guy anywhere near your naked body,” he plops back down in his seat, “What I am saying is that you lot have such unbridled sexual tension it is practically palpable when I’m at the shop with the both of you. Maybe it’s ‘cos the two of you are the only witches, and opposites at that.” 

Y/N snorts, “Maybe if we were in some enemies to lovers film, sure.” 

   After they finish their break, and Y/N realizes that she’s been with him for a little over an hour, they make plans to meet up tomorrow for a movie and she heads out. The air was cool -- when she had made her way over here the sun had been glittering rays down that bathed the world in gold, but it was now hidden beneath an overcast of thick clouds. Rain always carried a familiar scent just before it started to pour and Y/N had forgone a jacket, so she huffed her way back, breathless by the time she made it up the hill and saw Harry leaning against her door. 

The sight of him makes her exhausted, but not in the usual way it does. He looks awful -- and typically he doesn’t! Y/N could admit that Harry was gorgeous; his hair always appeared soft, loose curls dispersed along the brunette strands, his eyes are a sea green, tender in his gaze when he wasn’t being an absolute prick and always bright (even when he was). His lips were pink, shaped perfectly, and his skin is typically smooth but even when he grows out his facial hair it still manages to look good. He had dimples. . .hell, Y/N would place a bet that he’d made a deal with the devil to look like that. 

But today, he just looked worn down, and exhausted, like he might not have slept the entire weekend. His eyes were closed, his hands were in his pockets and his chin was tilted down towards his chest. If not for the way his head perked up immediately when her foot crunched into the gravel pathway leading up to her store from the small parking area (that was more so a beaten down, once grassy area now just dirt with tire tracks in it), she would have thought he was asleep standing up. There’s relief in his eyes when they meet her own, which she isn’t used to seeing from him, “Thank fuck.” 

“You look horrible,” Y/N slides her hand into her pocket, pulling out her keys so she could unlock the door, “Budge over.” 

“I feel it,” he rubs tiredly at his eyes, “Go on and open up quickly then. Why the hell do you keep your store closed on weekends?” 

Y/N fits her hand over the knob, twisting it and shoving the door open with her shoulder. Thumper greets them at the door, nudging the top of his head against her ankle, “Do you work every night?” 

“No --” 

“I keep it closed on weekends for the same reason why you don’t work every night,” she heads toward the counter, settling her things down and reaching in for Thumper’s hay stash so that she could give him some, “What’re you here for? You usually come around to bother me later.” She chances petting at Thumper’s head for a moment, and since he was preoccupied with his hay he would allow it.

“Fuck!” Y/N startles, popping up from behind the counter, looking back up only to see Harry with wide, disgruntled eyes, “Where’s your chamomile?” 

Her brows dip, “I’m out right now, so --” 

“How the hell did you run out? Shit, what am I going to do now, hm? Shouldn’t you keep up with shite like this?” He’s going a mile a minute, he’s walking closer to her, distress was written all over his face and Y/N is alarmed to a fair degree -- Harry’s always seemed very collected and calm, it was seldom she ever seen him have more emotion than pure elation to fuck with her or displeased with her presence. 

“ -- so I’m going to make more today. What’s going on with you? Why are you so pissy over it?” She finishes her previous thought, watching as he leans against the counter, propping his face up with his hand and she could now more clearly make out the bags beneath his eyes.

He rubs at his temple with the finger closest to it, “The only way I can sleep is with your bloody tea,” he grumbled, “That’s why I come around all the time -- well, that and to fuck with you, but mostly the tea.” 

“Oh?” She reaches down, plucking Thumper from where he’d been positioned by her feet and setting him on the counter. He thumps his foot at her once but eventually makes his way over to Harry, sniffing at his chin before resting right before him. Y/N wasn’t necessarily doing it to be nice, but the energy he was exuding could really dampen the growth rate of her plants, and Thumper had a soothing way about him that drew all that negativity out. It was one of those odd little familiar powers that went unexplained for the most part. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” 

“Dunno,” he shrugged his shoulders, but the tension in them begins to dissipate as Thumper snuggles beneath his chin, “Reckon I pissed off some demon or summat -- usually it isn’t this bad. Without your tea, I can at least get to bed for three hours before waking up and catch cat naps during the day, but nothing was working this weekend. I think I’ve slept a total of two hours?” 

“Christ,” she tuts her tongue, but her brain starts churning, “Do you think it has anything to do with that. . .with that thing, that’s around? That feeling?” 

Harry huffs a sigh, “Fuck, here you go again -- Babe, listen, I can barely keep a coherent thought, so why don’t I just give you some money and you make that tea for me, alright?” 

“That’s no way to ask,” Y/N chastises him, and though she is already beginning to gather the supplies she needs so she could go out and harvest her leaves, she taunts him, “You’ll have to say please, or I might just decide to wait on this batch.” 

“Please,” he wastes no time in saying, “Pretty please harvest the chamomile so that I can sleep and I promise I’ll sit and theorize with you over whatever the fuck thing you’re feeling.” 

Y/N could go through the trouble of doing a blood binding with him to ensure that he wasn’t lying to her, but she felt that was a little on the extreme side so she took his word for it. She could easily harvest her chamomile here at the shop -- she had two doors behind the counter, one that led to her garden, the field, and the forest outside while the other led to a backroom that was made into a little kitchen area. It was easier for her to do things here rather than at home and have to risk tainting them in transport; for the best results to any enchanted item, one has to seal it immediately and it should only be reopened prior to use. 

She wouldn’t allow Harry to hover over her while she worked, so she sat him behind the counter and told him to not speak to any customers if they come through (“Wasn’t planning to,”) while she went to work. Y/N gave Thumper a look when he had started to follow her, and with a small thump of his foot (his way of saying Fine!) he hops himself into Harry’s lap and settles there. The tension once again eases from Harry’s features, soothing the pinch in his brow and the way his lips had been pursed in a frown. 

It was silent as she set to work, and save for a few customers who filtered in and out (at least a dozen of them, only eight purchased something but her Mondays were always pretty slow so that was expected), there wasn’t much to disturb what appeared to be a dozing Harry. He looked much more peaceful than she’s ever seen him, and for a brief moment she contemplates sending Thumper back home with him, but she shakes her head physically as if to expel the thought from her brain. What was she going on about? She would give him his tea and send the heathen on his way. No matter how empathetic she felt for him (she had struggled with issues sleeping when she was a lot younger), there was no need to go out of her way. . .even if she could admit that the sight of him cuddling with a bunny was a little too sweet not to be documented somewhere. 

She’s finished drying the leaves and carefully stirring them in the fine powder that she still had leftover from her last batch (there were many flowers from her garden ground up and enchanted with an incantation, which sounds like a simple enough task but the entire process took a little over a week -- the magic had to be purified several times, and the potential adverse effects had to be mollified. . . if she didn’t, instead of pleasant dreams of floating in clouds, her customers would be in an unsolicited astral projection) in a little over an hour. Y/N takes care to bag them delicately, adding a little extra in the two bags she would be giving Harry so that he would bother her less over it. 

By the time she’s retreated from the back preparation room, she finds that Harry is awake now, eyeballing her Intimacy and Romance section. When he sees that she’s returned to the front, he holds up the small, cardboard parcel, “I didn’t know you doubled as a Pulse and Cocktails.” 

“That’s a natural aphrodisiac,” she tells him, walking over to her empty chamomile shelf before she begins to fill it,  “You might want to take some so your partners will actually desire you for once.” 

“Oh, Honey,” he shakes his head, a look on his face almost like he pities her, “Don’ know a thing about how people desire me. Barely have to take my cock out for them to be gagging for it -- kind of how you are, but won’t admit it to yourself.” 

Y/N kisses her teeth, “Alright lecher, come and get your chamomile then,” she plucks the two remaining bags from the box she brought them in and holds them out for him, “You should look into some spells to combat that though -- if a demon is purloining your sleep, then it’s probably still hanging around and like deluging your flat with negative energy.” 

“Dunno’ if you know this, but I work with demons often, I’m always surrounded by negative energy,” he plucks the chamomile from her grasp, before reaching in his pocket and producing a small wad of cash that he places in her palm-- Y/N opens her mouth to decline it (she felt that his money was earned in a dishonest way and would not accept it for her flowers, because it felt as if she were disrespecting them. . .she would much rather give it to him for free), but he cuts her off, “Oh, hush and take the money. This is from a care package my Nan sent me, so it wasn’t earned in any rotten way, you spoiled brat.” 

She sighs, clutching the money in her hands, “You still better keep your end of the deal,” Y/N tells him, “I want to talk about this. . .whatever that feeling is, around here lately. And I want you to be serious about it!” 

Harry was already retreating, waving his hand up at her, “Yeah, sure thing, I’ll have my secretary get in contact with you --” 

“Harry --” 

“M’only joking. I’ll come around Friday.” 

                                                                     .                       .                         .

Later that night, with Thumper snuggled in her lap snoozing, Y/N looks into purging a home of sleep stealing spirits. 

She’s only curious. 

                                                             .                         .                        . 

Sleep comes gradually, then all at once, like the shift between summer and fall. 

Wind whistles past window sills singing shallow songs of change, while red apples ripen on their branches in the orchard during harvest season. The air grows colder in the mornings and at night, the day is still steeped in the sun’s benevolent kisses of heat at first until even that begins to wane. An aesthetic of reds, oranges, forest greens and golden hues occupy the minds of many as the leaves start to stain with color. Everyone waits with bated breath for true autumn to come around the corner. 

And when it does, it’s with a cold slap of air against the face when they step outside. The air carries that distinct autumn smell, the world is chilly enough for thicker jackets and long socks, rain comes in sheets during the evenings, and the colorful leaves that had drooped from the trees adhere to the concrete, or in matted piles on the forest floor.  Suddenly, the warm drink in everyone’s hand is a little less for the excitement and impatience for fall to begin, and more so to warm their cold palms from the onslaught of biting wind. 

It isn’t autumn, and then it is -- just like sleep. Harry’s awake one minute, and then he’s passed right out. 

Well, with Y/N’s help, bless her. Sure, she had been rotten before, but she made him a new batch and sent him off with two hearty bags full of tea that would soothe his worries and put his arse to bed. Plus, he had cuddled with her sweet little bunny Thumper for a while and he had a feeling the little bugger was exuding some sort of her soft magic unto him in the form of calming waves. When the rabbit sat in his lap, all the tension eased from his muscles and he sank into an otherwise uncomfortable chair like it was the softest mattress he’d ever been privy to. So by the time he came home, started the kettle, drank a mug full, and hot tailed it to his bed, he was asleep before his head could even quite hit the pillow. 

It was so good. His dreams were pleasant, his sleep was heavy, and deep, and lasted around fifteen hours -- which in the grand scheme of things, made him feel a bit like a sloth, but he knew he needed it. He still couldn’t quite pinpoint what had happened that he just couldn’t sleep even a little bit, but he has no interest in investigating now that he had a full night’s (and partially day’s) rest. Plus, there was no time to do any exploring when he needed to make up for the work he’d missed in his time exhausted -- his powers are nowhere near as strong if he is tired, and it’s incredibly dangerous to be working with little sleep. He could mess up, and a mess-up could mean someone would likely end up possessed and -- albeit how interesting they are -- Harry’s intrigue with exorcisms ended after the seventh one he performed. 

After he woke up, showered off, and ate brekkie, he sat down with his kitten and they cleaned his crystals and a few amulets before he set on preparing some of his finer elixirs, that he always waited until he was down to the last drop to begin making more canisters of considering how extensive the process was. It would be easier if he had someone else to help out, but the only other witch within 160 kilometers of him, he wouldn’t label as the type all too willing to help him break into a blood bank. 

But he did have his kitten Oat. He was his little miracle -- Harry had been so sad when he learned that witches could have familiars, but the animal would come to him and he was supposed to just know. At that point, he’d been practicing for three years and the only feelings he could sense from any animal around him were fear and disdain, so he had thought that maybe he just wasn’t meant to have one. Which felt horrible. . .he loved animals. 

One day, when the chill in the air rosied his cheeks and the cardigan he sported did little to shield him from the cold, he was taking a walk in the forest nearby. He’d left the trail, but not because he was working. . .if he were honest, he thought that the garden that Y/N kept out there was quite magnificent. It flourished even in the winter, a meadow of flowers that’s petals never frost, and the ground never grew hard. There was an air around it that made him feel warm and pleasant, so he visited often without letting her know. Which was what he was doing, walking through the small path that she had created so that she could tend to them (he’d seen her water them once when he’d come unknowing that she was there to cater to them). 

And one moment he was looking at what he believed to be an oat grass, he heard a rustle from the bushes to his left that he looked toward (it was a bird flying away), and when his gaze returned to where it had once been, there a small kitten was laying. She was the kind of small that made his heart ache, with her eyes barely open as she yawned and stretched very wide -- she wasn’t there, and then she was. Harry always liked to say she was born from the soft soil of Y/N’s garden which was why her grey fur felt like clouds and she always smelled sweet as heliotrope. . .and, well, she smelled a lot like Y/N too. He may not be all too fond of the girl, but she did always smell nice. 

She hadn’t grown bigger than one of his boots, the tiny little thing, but not because she was malnourished in any way (Harry always made sure she was well-fed), he just thinks she’s finished growing. He couldn’t tell her breed, but if he had to guess she was some mix between a munchkin and a ragamuffin cat. Harry knows all familiars have their duties and special abilities, but he wasn’t quite sure what hers was -- he just knew that he loved her to bits and pieces, and couldn’t ask for a better little ball of fur to sit on his shoulder while he made coffee in the morning. 

What Harry did know, was that none of the demon’s he had ever conjured had ever bothered her, and she loved to be rubbed behind her ears. 

So Thursday night, when the town grew quiet and the air was still, Harry ventured out with his tote bag slung over his shoulder. It was easy to move about relatively unseen in a place like this, that wasn’t so big there were people constantly looming around the corners of every nook and cranny, but wasn’t so small that everybody knew everyone’s business. It was a pleasant in between, where he could snake through the mouth of the forest, walk a trail and end up on the other side of town without having been seen by more than a few critters. He typically made this journey relatively late, without a worry or stressor in sight -- it only took him about an hour and a half to get everything done. 

Today though -- today, he felt off. It hadn’t been immediately when he’d stepped outside, but after some time in his walk, goosebumps prickled his skin and the hair at the back of his neck stood on end. He couldn’t quite decipher what was making him feel like this when the wind hadn’t rustled the trees in a few minutes, but it put him on guard. He disliked the feeling and had only truly sensed it to this degree that night Y/N had originally questioned him about it. It was an unsavory sensation, and for it to even make him feel uneasy was saying something tremendous. 

He attempts to ignore it, even though it only grew stronger the closer he was to his destination. He weaves through the trees, stepping over the thick roots, crunching over fallen leaves, and appreciating the scent of autumn as he goes. It was a nice night, despite the chill that ran just beneath his skin. . .it was the kind of night that he might go out on his balcony and sip on his tea until he grew weary enough to step inside. Oat liked to sit outside with him, curled peacefully in his lap and resting without a care in the world (she made him feel not so lonely all the time, which he appreciated immensely). 

Harry was thinking about how that was precisely what he was going to do as soon as he returned home after he had emerged from the trees and walked through an expansive field, toward an old road that led him back into town and entered the blood bank (after melting the lock with one of his crystals). Though he sensed something strong when he was walking down the cold, dark hall. . .or someone that is, who --  before he could register their presence -- ran straight into him as they were peeling around the corner and nearly knocked him on his arse (but definitely knocked them on theirs). 

“Fuck sake!” He cried out, steadying himself, looking down at the assailant, “Watch where you’re going, mate, or you’ll -- oh, Y/N?” He pauses, confusion laces through his brain as he recognizes her, “What’re you doing here so late?” 

Y/N was on her bum, scowling at him as she gathered herself before flattening her palms to the cold, white tiled floor and pressing up to a stand, “I could ask you the same question.” 

“It would be a silly one if you did, ‘cos you and I both know what I’m doing for a living,” he watches as she swipes her bum of the dust adhering to her sweatpants -- he had never seen her so dressed down before, in a dark-colored hoodie that just about swallowed her whole. She appeared much less ferocious this way -- not that she appeared very ferocious before, but he is always intrigued to see typically put together people in their sleep clothes. . .he thinks it says a lot about a person. From Y/N’s choice of pajamas, he could tell that she probably kept her flat on the side of too cold because she liked to bundle up. . .she felt safe that way, he would guess, and he would bet 50 quid that there was bunny hair all over it because -- despite his grumpy tendencies -- Thumper loved a good cuddle.

“I felt it again,” she says after a moment, her voice only above a whisper, though there was no security here -- or anyone, for that matter since the place closes at 7 PM, but her eyes still shift around like she’s a high schooler ditching class and the headmaster's down the hall, “. . .that thing, y’know, while I was getting ready for bed, so I followed where it felt grossest and came to check it out to see if it led me anywhere.” 

Harry’s brows furrowed, “Well that was stupid,” he derides her, fixing the tote around his shoulder and shifting weight from one heel to the other, “What were you going to do if you found something, hm? Fight it off with your bunny and rose petals?”

Her scowl returns, “Piss off,” she utters before her gaze flickers to his tote and the reason he’s here becomes clearer to her than it had been before, “You shouldn’t be stealing blood. Isn’t that unethical?” 

“It’s either this or siphoning it from a live vein, Babe, and while I’m aces at plenty of things, I have not been properly trained to set up an IV. I only take the blood that’s about to expire anyway,” He nods down the hallway, toward the refrigeration where they kept all of the baggies, “You might as well continue investigating while we’re here because it’s coming from that way -- plus you can make yourself useful by keeping the door propped open for me.”

In all honesty, Harry expects more fight than he was given considering how often she seems to object to every move he makes, but she merely rolls her eyes and starts ahead of him. The feeling does grow stronger the further they descend into the hallway and he knows Y/N can feel it too, from the way she shuffles just a little closer to him, and he can hear her breathing hitch to a small halt as they stood before the door and it felt like it had all been focused just behind the door. As strong as the taste of frozen orange juice concentrate, it made his face pucker just slightly as he raised his fingers toward the keypad and began punching in the code. 

“You’re really gonna go in there?” Y/N queries gently, and Harry only nods his head in response, reaching for the door handle. An urgent, delicate touch of Y/N’s hand startles him, looping around his wrist and dragging his attention toward her, “Shouldn’t we have a game plan if something is behind the door?” She asks, her hold on him tightening just a little, and Harry notes how soft her palm feels against his skin, “Like, let’s say we open the door and a behemoth is standing there, what do we do?” 

“The only behemoth that could fit in this tiny room is the band from Poland, Babe, and I reckon they have better things to do on a Thursday night,” he retorts, clenching around the knob and tilting it down, “Now unless you want to hold hands in there. . .” 

She lets go before he can finish, and he doesn’t have to look back at her face to know she’s irate. A small smile quirks at his mouth as he pushes his shoulder against the heavy door to aid him opening it, bracing himself to see something potentially horrid. . .

And there’s nothing. 

Actually, as soon as they open the door, the dark, odious feeling that had been encompassing both of them disappears entirely. “Whoa,” Y/N pushes her hand against the door and keeps it open, taking one step inside of the room, “There’s a lot of blood in here.” His gaze flickers back at her, as she looks around, looking more intrigued than disgusted -- there was a lot of blood, 8 by 5-meter room just filled with it, so he could understand some of the awe. The more he returns, the less awe he feels, but he reckons that was to be expected. 

“There are about five other refrigerators in this building too,” he tells her as he lowers to his knees, cracking open his tote, “This one’s computers are easier to get into though, and doesn’t say the date and time the amount was changed so nobody knows anything is missing. Easy peasy.” 

Y/N nods, “Right. Stealing blood -- easy peasy,” she leans against the door, “What is it that you use it for?” 

“It really depends,” he murmurs as he pulls out a rack, counting out the baggies he needed, “Some demons like blood more than ash, so they come when called and are more willing to help you out when given a little gift. There are a few spells that call for it, and elixirs are twice as potent — sometimes I have to drink it, which is...unpleasant,” he hears her shiver, “—but it makes the outcome better. All in a day's work.”

“Oh wow,” Y/N hummed, “That’s...different. I think the weirdest thing I’ve had to drink for a spell was doe milk and I felt guilty the whole time. Like I was taking it from a fawn that needed it.”

Harry huffed out a laugh — Y/N was a soft little thing, comparing drinking blood to milk — sometimes he forgets how sheltered her world of magic is compared to his own.  It was easy to forget with all the spiteful words she could throw his way, but to see her out of her comfort zone. . .it’s refreshing. Not because she is less confident in her surroundings, but because she is more open to his own If someone would have told Harry they would be even remotely civil with one another in a room full of blood, he would have snorted before asking what they were snorting. 

“I oughta call you Bambi then.” 

He was on his last baggy of blood, checking the expiration date, and logging it into the computer when the dreadful feeling returned. Like a fly to rotting meat, it clings back to the room they were in tenfold. From behind him, a sharp clatter and Y/N’s squeal startles him to look back at her, “Harry!” She cried, pointing ahead of her, “The walls! L-look at the walls!”  

Harry follows her finger, watching as a thick, black substance oozes from the wall’s coving. When Y/N had noticed as much, she knocked down a stray IV pole that had been left in here, and it lay at her feet where the same black ooze had begun seeping up from the trim of the floors. In all his time doing what he does, Harry had never seen something so odd, nor had he ever felt something this grotesque overcome his being. It makes him act quickly, and while he doesn’t speak, he does fix his tote over his shoulder and practically jog the short distance to Y/N, knocking her out of the room, grabbing the door by the handle, and swinging it shut. He had hoped to seal it in there, whatever it was, but when they look down at the floor, the goo bleeds beneath the door and they both take a startled step back, “Oh fuck me,” Harry mutters to himself, shaking his head. 

“What the hell is this?” Y/N is panicked -- it’s very clear in her voice, and while Harry was a tad thankful not to be dealing with this alone, he can’t say that a soft which, who planted pretty flowers and made sleepy time tea was necessarily the backing he wanted in the event he had to exorcise a demon. He didn’t even have the proper tools for it. . .he didn’t know what he was exorcising, fuck sake --  “Harry, shouldn’t we --” 

“We need to leave,” he states, pivoting on his heel and hustling down the hall, Y/N was quick to scurry behind him, though she still murmurs some protest. 

“We shouldn’t just --” 

“Listen, unless you have any idea what that is and how to clean it, let alone banish it to hell, I saw we have a better chance through those doors than we do staying in here for even a second more,” he told her, holding out his hands to the crash bar, shoving the heavy door open, only looking back to make sure that Y/N had made it through, seeing that the black ooze had been following them before he promptly slammed the door shut. 

This was one of the back doors, so it spits them out to the graveled employee parking lot that dances along one of the many mouths of the forest that surrounded them. They’re both out of breath, adrenalin zipping through their veins in a tidal wave as their chests heave and they stare at the door. They wait for it to crawl beneath these doors. . .they wait for the building to either be overcome by sludge or combust from whatever sinister being had decided to preoccupy this space. 

But nothing happens. 

The wind picks up, the leaves rustle against the branches, and as if it were a gift from the Earth, the sordid feeling blew right away with it. 

“What the hell was that?” Y/N asks for the second time. 

Harry straightens out from where he’d been crouched, inhaling the cool air, appreciative to be in it. 

“Do you think for a second, with my reaction, that I have any fucking clue?” 

                                                        .                             .                              .

Y/N doesn’t have people at her flat often. 

Actually, apart from Niall and a few maintenance men, nobody had ever really come over. Not for any particular reason, really, and not because she didn’t want them to necessarily -- the opportunity just rarely arose, or more so, she didn’t often allow it to. If she were going to meet someone then she would meet them somewhere else, and they would part ways after they were finished (again, apart from Niall, who would simply follow her home, kick his trainers off, and head toward her couch which he had told her was simply the comfiest he’d ever been on). Her home was her humble abode. . .it was where she came to destress after a long day, and where Thumper sometimes waited for her debating whether or not he wanted to nibble her bathroom rug to shreds.

Not to mention she had plants growing here too, and flowers that she held dear to her, and while people are more reluctant to go touching what isn’t their business at a store, they are much less disinclined to give that same respect to her plants. Once Y/N had a maintenance man over to fix her faucet and she’d walked out from her room to see that he was caressing her snake plant’s leaves. She couldn’t blame him -- the plant had a very encompassing presence about it and had a way of drawing people in if they weren’t careful. . .hypnotized by the way it made them feel. All of Y/N’s soil and seeds are charmed with special incantations and concoctions that took her years to perfect, she would be disappointed if they weren’t causing people to leave all semblance of professionalism to even for a moment feel as if they were in a room with such clear air, their lungs felt renewed and they deemed it necessary to get closer. 

But then she had to apologize to her snake plant for nearly two days after! It had been so upset with her, she could feel it, so she started being even more careful about who she let in.  If she was going to go out of her way to have someone over, then there was a good reason for it. . .or it was Niall. 

And a demonic, gooey substance sweating from the walls of a blood bank, was well enough a good reason to have Harry over. 

It took some coaxing on her part -- he was convinced that they needed to just go back to their respective flats and go to bed, but Y/N was adamant in vetoing the idea. “We’re supposed to talk tomorrow anyway, so we might as well just go ahead and do it tonight -- and you are not leaving me alone after whatever the fuck that was!” 

After a good ten minutes, he finally relented as long as they could stop by his flat so he could get his kitten. Y/N hadn’t known that he had a kitten and thought maybe he would bring out some ragged-looking thing, but she was surprised to see through her windshield window that Harry was approaching her car with a small grey kitten. Her face contorts in the way everyone’s face might when they see something small and cute, “Look at her,” she coos once Harry opens his door, “What’s her name?” 

“This is Oat,” he answered, holding her out for Y/N to pet, “Be careful, she’s vicious.” 

Y/N pet at her head and Oat’s eyes shut as she nuzzled into her palm, “Oh yeah, what a panther.”

 Apart from the nerves that had already materialized from what they had seen in the blood bank, she was a little worried about inviting him into her home. When she visualized her safe space, Harry was not typically who she saw sitting on her couch when she came in from the kitchen, holding mugs of warm tea. Yet there he was, introducing Thumper and Oat to one another (who merely sniffed each other, then immediately cozied against her olive throw blanket on the end of the couch), and Y/N is handing him his steamy mug. 

“I’ve been thinking,” he began, immediately nursing the mug between his palms and lifting it up to his mouth for a small sip -- the steam disperses around his face in plumes, “And it wouldn’t make sense for. . .for whatever that is to just be a demon.” 

“What?” She inquires, taking her seat beside him on the couch, her body twisted so she was facing him entirely. Y/N had adjusted the temperature to something that would be a bit more suited toward having a guest -- when she’s alone, she keeps it ungodly cold so she has an excuse to bundle up in her clothes and blankets. There’s nothing like feeling safe in a cocoon of various fabrics with Buffy the Vampire Slayer on the telly. 

Harry strategically places the mug between his knitted socked feet, steadying it there as he begins to play with the thick, brassy tiger ring on his index finger, “Demons are strong, sure, but if they’re gonna be that strong there’s typically two reasons for it: they have already inhabited that area, or someone is controlling them behind the scenes. I would be more inclined to believe the prior, but I’ve been going to this blood blank for about a year now and unless there were some pentagrams I’ve missed or a gruesome ordeal that never made the papers in the past two weeks -- then there’s no reason for that to have happened at the hands of a spirit. Even a blood demon isn’t strong enough to make what happened in there happen, and they literally feed off the substance in the room.” 

“So you think someone summoned it or something? I thought you were the only one around here that did that?” Y/N probes, trying to look in his eyes but she keeps getting distracted by his rings -- how many did he have? She thinks he nearly has one on each finger, and he’s plucking them off and placing them on different knuckles as he speaks. Y/N wonders if it’s something he does in response to a stressor, like how she picks at her nails. 

“I’m the only witch that summons things around here, but not even I could conjure something that feels that vile.” He explained, fitting the last ring against his knuckle before he pops the bones in his fingers, and Y/N watches as the skin stretches and moves around the muscles in his hands,  “I think someone is trying to manifest something without the proper safeguards in place. . .the lack of protection charms, crystals, and spells can invite much more heinous creatures to the living world. They feed off shite like that -- naivety. . .thinking that any person could decide they’ll have a demon carry out a job for them. It’s easier for them to take advantage of them that way.” Harry exhales, running the pad of his thumb around the rim of the mug— she’s given him the one that has intricate, realistic drawings of beluga whales on it, not for any other reason apart from that one was her favorite and she liked to see it in use, “And with a full moon coming up? Recipe for disaster.”

“Oh shit,” Y/N holds her tea closer to her being, “That’s why the feeling is so profuse and disagreeable in the air then, ‘cos they aren’t containing it right? When I was looking into a little bit of what you do, I read that there are containment spells so the demon or spirit doesn’t have free range to do as it pleases, but the spell is dependent on the demon in question and the severity of its power.” 

Harry looked pleasantly surprised, “Yeah, that’s right -- what’re ya looking up what I’m doing for?” He settles into her couch, “Have you got a crush on me or summat?” 

If Y/N rolled her eyes any further back, she thinks they would have done a 360 in her eye sockets, “I fell down a rabbit hole the other night when I was trying to figure out why you couldn’t sleep,” an impish grin slides onto his mouth, “And not because I’m “in love with you” -- I just thought it would be interesting to know if your insomnia was the reason of a demon because that would mean one of my items combats against that and wins. My. . .most of my magic is based on prevention when it comes to dark things like that, not really to fight what’s already there.” 

“So your flowers don’t like -- I dunno, Little Shop of Horrors it?” He teases, motioning to her Hoya plant that had just begun to bloom for her, “I reckon when I think of plant magic, I think of you snapping your fingers and thorned ivy whipping around to slow assailants.” 

“No, none of that,” she laughs lightly, shaking her head, “They’re much too nice and gentle. . .they only want to help. And I’m rarely in a situation where I would need thorned ivy whipping around.” Y/N locks eyes with Oat for a moment, whose eyes close nice and slow before she reopens them and Y/N thinks she might just melt, “What do we do then? How do we stop it?” 

He slides a ring with teddy bears from his pinky and spins it between his forefinger and thumb, “There’s nothing to do -- if we don’t know who the problem is, then we can’t fix anything.” Harry shrugs his shoulders, and the action makes his already loose cardigan slide down his arms, revealing more of the cream-colored shirt he wore with Smokey the Bear on the front reading Only YOU! can prevent forest fires, “All we can do is wait for the next fucked feeling and hopefully run into the person causing -- oh,” Harry pauses, motioning toward her, “You’ve got a new friend.” 

Y/N’s confused, brows knitted until she feels a paw press against her shoulder and the telltale purr of a happy kitty. When she turns her head, she finds that Oat has snuck her way up to her, and is now attempting to perch on Y/N’s shoulder. She presses closer to the back of the couch so that she had a better footing, and in return Oat bumps at her cheek with the top of her head, “You’re so cute, stop it,” she murmurs, and when she takes a breath through her nose, she smiles, “She smells like my heliotrope flowers too! How are you the familiar of such a grumpy, cruel lug, huh?” 

“Oi,” Harry mutters, “I resent that. I’m not grumpy or cruel, you’re just rotten.” 

A retort plays at Y/N’s mouth but her phone screen lights up from where it’s sat on the coffee table and strays her attention. She’s confused -- the only person who would be messaging her this late was Niall but she’s almost a hundred percent certain that he was supposed to be out at the bar tonight. It is him though. 

Fuck me, have ya looked at the news? Is this that thing we were talkin bout? 

Harry is a nosy bugger, and after reading the message with her he reaches for her remote, “You told him about it?” He turns on her telly, quick to open her TV guide, “So he knows about you?” 

“Yeah, he knows -- turn to 3,” she tells him, and soon enough the local news is playing out, big bold letters on the blue band stretched across the bottom of the screen. 

MAN TO BE CHARGED WITH ATTEMPTED MURDER ON GIRLFRIEND 

He turned the volume up, so they could hear the news reporter who was on site. There was yellow caution tape stripped around a house, police lights, cops walking around in the back, and frightened neighbors who had left the comfort of their homes to investigate what was happening. The woman on screen had long blonde hair that whipped when the wind blew and muffled her microphone feed, her face set stony as she recounted the events as the police had told her, “. . .has no recollection of the event, and is claiming the “walls” were dripping in blood and demanding that he do it. Jacobs is being taken in for further questioning and pending a psychiatric evaluation -- his girlfriend Amanda Wilson is being rushed to hospital that’s all anyone knows right now. Back to you Tom...” 

“Oh, fuck sake,” Harry groaned, shaking his head, “Now this is a problem, problem innit?” 

“Was it not before?” Y/N takes the remote from him, turning the volume down, “Do you -- does that sound like anything you’ve dealt with? That would try hurting someone like that?” 

He presses his knuckles to his eyes, sighing, “Not that I remember -- I’ll have to do some digging. . .this is bollocks, you know how bad this is for business? Nobody wants to mess with dark magic when shit like this is going on.”

“Aish, don’t think so selfishly. People are in danger,” she tsks at him, “And we’ll need to -- what are you doing?” She asks as he removes his feet from where they had been on the couch, reaching down for his loafers like he was about to put them on. 

“S’getting late,” he responded, “I was g’na head home --” 

“No you’re not,” she told him, her face dropping in borderline disgust as he seemed genuinely confused with her, his face twisting, “We experience something like that, then see the news, and you not only want to separate, but you want to walk all the way home, alone, in the dark? No way, that’s too stupid, you’re staying here.” 

Harry’s brows dipped in, irritated, however, he did stop reaching for his loafers,  “But --” 

“Listen, we may not be fond of each other but I’m not letting you put yourself in danger,” she tells him, before adding quickly, “And you are fucking not going to leave me alone after that! Are you mad?” 

“I’m sorry, I thought I’d be doing you a favor without bothering ya with my presence. Never thought Miss. Good Witch of the North would want me breathing her air for too long.” He ripostes and it reinvigorates any distaste for Harry that had been easing throughout the night the more they spoke. He always did that -- always made her feel like she was some stuck up prick who never gave him a chance, but she would have if he hadn’t started out being such an arse to her. Sure, the circumstances they had met under weren’t fantastic. . .she snapped at him for taking her flowers without asking, but he could have just apologized -- could have said sorry, and they could have started over but he was immediately put off by her she presumes, because ever since he’d been nothing but cruel to her. His knocking her out of the room in the blood bank was probably the first kind thing he’d ever done for her, and she isn’t a hundred percent certain that she wasn’t just in his way while he was trying to get out. 

So she glowers at him as she pushes from her couch, “Sod off. I’ll get you some blankets.”

He almost immediately replaces the spot that her body had been with his legs, stretching out as far as he could and his feet flop on the arm of the sofa, “Reckon you should make me some of that tea though, so I can sleep.” He called after her. Thumper hops off and follows after her, while Oat finds her spot at Harry’s side and cuddles into where his cardigan’s extra fabric bundles. Y/N goes to the closet in the hall that leads to her bedroom, pries it open, and reaches to the top shelf where she keeps her extra blankets and pillows. Despite how irritated he makes her, she grabs him one of her heavier quilts, because even with her heat kicked up higher than normal her flat has very poor insulation, and the night’s into early mornings get pretty cold. She’s about to grumble at him that he better thank her for this and the bloody tea, but when she returns to the living room. . .he’s asleep. 

Harry just fell right to sleep. 

She’s confused -- understandably, she thinks, because she remembers how much of a fit he’d thrown about her tea and how she was closed on weekends so he couldn’t have any of it. Had whined how he wasn’t able to sleep without the tea, and she had only given him peppermint tea tonight, so there was no reason that should have put him to bed. 

Yet there he was, fast asleep with his arms crossed over his chest. 

 Tutting her tongue quietly, she unrolls the blanket she had chosen for him and strategically places it over his legs. She is careful to move Oat so that she doesn’t suffocate under the covers as she pulls them over, up to Harry’s chest before replacing her in the spot she had snuggled prior. She pauses for a moment before she leaves them, taking in a completely relaxed Harry -- not that he doesn’t seem relaxed all the time, but he’s just. . .calm. His muscles have melted against her couch cushions, his brow has soothed and his amaranth pink lips are soft and parted. Gentle, easy breaths slip through his mouth. . .Y/N thinks that she likes him like this. Not spiteful, or crass -- this Harry doesn’t seem to hate her. This Harry is warm and comfortable enough to just fall asleep on her couch. 

Thumper thumps his foot against the floor, his not-so-silent request that they go to bed and Y/N snaps out of whatever hypnotic state she’d been in watching him rest. She feels creepy but shakes it off, reaching down to pick up Thumper by his belly and cradling him to her chest as she leaves the living room, keeping her lamp on for him in case he wakes up to have a wee or anything. 

It’s when she goes to the kitchen to grab him a bottle of water to leave at the coffee table for him, that she can feel Thumper judging her. This is only confirmed by the way he is looking up at her when she looks down at him, his small, pink nose twitching, and she can just sense him repeating Harry’s tease of have you got a crush on me or summat? -- it’s not like he hasn’t questioned her before. She reckons if Thumper could actually speak and not just implant little thoughts of his in her head through whatever little bond they have, he would be very free with his accusations about who she might have feelings for. 

Y/N rolls her eyes. 

“No, I don’t,” she disagrees with him quietly, “What do you know about crushes, hm? You’re just a bunny.” 

                                                         .                               .                              .

It had been a while since Harry had worked. 

Though he was always hesitant to call it work, all things considered. Y/N had once described to him that what he did was lurk around seedy clubs and wait to be recognized by a sorry sap that wanted something they didn’t want to put much effort towards, and Harry can’t necessarily say she’s wrong.  He preyed on the lazy; men and women who couldn’t be arsed to obtain a goal without the help of a little magic no matter how negative, and Harry couldn’t really fault them for it. One, because sometimes goals are unattainable with literally anything other than a demon's help, and two because he gets a hefty wad of cash in his pocket for his trouble. How hypocritical could he be to deprecate their usage of dark magic when he is doing the same thing. . .when he relies on that more than anything, even the silly little romance novels he writes so that nobody questions where his money’s coming from. 

It was a Friday night, and since he was no longer tied to the commitment of meeting Y/N to discuss the horrible, no good, terrible thing that was slithering its way through town and apparently spurring bouts of attempted murder -- he was able to visit a club. Though Y/N had made him lock pinkies with her that morning, telling him to keep his eye out for anything suspicious that may or may not have led to the events from the night prior. 

Promise me that you’ll keep informed on what’s going on there, okay? And promise me that you’ll tell me about it. 

The club he’d visited was one of the more popular of the four he frequented, and within the walls, amongst the gyrating bodies in scant clothing and sweat-drenched skin, were many of his regular clients. One of which had been blowing up his phone for the past week telling him how he desperately needed help, and he needed it ASAP. Harry finally replied to his message with a simple time that he would meet him, and that they would discuss the cost once he’s explained what is being asked of him. This guy, in particular, wanted many frivolous things, and typically his requests revolved around wealth, though Harry thought he had more than enough. And while Harry could do a few simple spells that would bring the money gradually and don’t come with the dangers that a demon will, he refuses. Harry has always told each of his clients that a spell and a demon could do the same thing, but demons brought faster results, albeit potentially precarious consequences.

And when it comes to summoning, things can get a bit tricky. If the person who is summoning is the person who will benefit from the demon’s will directly, then it may come with a price, and that price may or may not be hidden between the lines. Especially when it is someone who has no clue about the actual process, offerings that could be made without including their soul for the taking, and spells that could be done that would protect them. After doing this for so long, Harry had developed and harnessed enough power that it was rare a spell every backfired or a demon ever bested him, but if Bradley Evans tried this himself, he’d be good as dead. 

This is why, no matter how this man grates every open end of his nerves with a dull blade, he continues to help him. Again, Harry gets paid an obscene amount of money for what he does, so he sucks it right up -- and it’s not as if this money is just for him. He has people to take care of, his own personal gripes with the smarmy, rich, meat-headed pricks that want him to summon Clauneck for a trip to the Bahamas matter very little in the grand scheme of things. 

He’s leaning against the far back corner, at a table that he’d claimed for the night and a cherry mango cocktail that wets his lips and stains them red. He really isn’t scouting for suspicious behavior like he had promised to, only because his mind had floated elsewhere entirely. Like how, after so long of only ever being able to rest with help of Y/N’s chamomile, he was able to fall asleep without the help of anything. He had asked her about the tea that she and he drank prior to him passing out unprompted on her couch, but she told him it was just a store-bought strawberry tea that was a guilty pleasure. 

It perplexed him greatly. He only remembers her demanding him to stay the night because she didn’t want to be alone (and if he’s honest, neither had he after the night they had), he remembers her standing and him stretching out on her couch, and he remembers asking her for the tea that would help him sleep. 

And then he remembers waking, feeling refreshed, and renewed. Confused, but reinvigorated, he had a wee before poking around in her kitchen for something to satiate his grumbly stomach. Y/N was still asleep -- he’d peeked his head into her cracked open door only to find her dreaming peacefully, relaxed, and content. As creepy as it felt to stare at her as she slept, he did watch for a moment. It was different to see her without the accompanied scowl he usually coaxed upon her face -- the blissful gleam that exudes from her now is the same that he sees when she’s tending to one of her gardens. 

He brewed two chai lattes in her Keurig with Oat on his shoulder like a bird and she woke as he was taking the second mug, setting it on her kitchen counter, “G’morning,” she yawned, Thumper hopping behind her, looking just as sleepy, “Did you sleep through the night? I made you a cuppa and kept it in the microwave in case you woke up.” 

His heart had lurched. . .a genuine clench that Harry had not felt in a while.

“Oh,” he blinked at her owlishly, “I slept just fine, but thank you.” 

“Mm, good,” she was so sleepy still, Harry remembers wondering if she was even fully awake speaking to him, “I  have sliced fruit in the fridge if you want, for brekkie.” 

It was a domesticated scenario that Harry had not been privy to.  

Had it been her flat? Maybe the plants that she had strewn about the room were all enchanted, singing sweet songs of sleep that lulled him to sleep without him knowing. All he could recall was feeling so unbelievably comforted and no matter how cold it was in that damn flat, he felt so warm. . .so warm, and it smelled so good, and Oat was snoozing happily at his side. Plus she had wrapped him in this quilt that was heavy and smelled nice -- he thinks, in that moment, he finally understood why babies liked feeling contained in a swaddle blanket. Regardless of what happened at the blood bank, and what they found out on the news, Harry felt safe in her flat. And he probably wouldn’t have left either, if he didn’t have to work. 

He’s so caught in his reverie, that Bradley’s arrival truly startled him. A clearing of his throat catches his attention, dragging his unfocused gaze from the crowd of dancers to Bradly, dressed in a Lacoste polo that thought was ugly but he would never say it aloud, “Oh,” he straightened up, bringing the rim of his glass to his mouth and taking a small sip of it, “Right then, what can I do for you? Another trip to Barbados?” 

Bradley shakes his head a little frantically, and it's only then that Harry takes in the actual appearance of him, that surpasses the Lacoste and zeros in on the panic that decorates his face, “I need like -- like a demon protector or some kinda spell or -- I don’t fucking know, or something.” 

“Oh --” his brows dip, “What’s wrong? Is something bothering you?” 

He starts to nod, then switches it to a shake of his head, and that morphs into a shrug of his shoulders, “I don’t know man, I just don’t feel -- I don’t feel safe. I wondered if one of those demons from before were like. . .after my soul or summat.” 

“Not possible,” Harry dismisses the idea, setting his glass down on the high round table, “When I work with them we make a spiritual, contractual agreement that they are bound to. If your soul was not on the table, then it will never be on the table -- it must be something else,” he thinks for a moment before a slither of realization stokes the fire in his brain, that sets the coals aflame and heats the cogs to a churn, “What -- explain to me what you’re feeling?” 

“Like something is watching me,” he blinked, crossing his arms on top of the table and leaning most of his weight onto it, the scent of liquor wafts over Harry’s face when Bradly breathes, “It’s heavy and. . .it’s like swimming in ink. It’s horrible and frightening, and I’ve never -- I’ve never been one to rely on vibes, but mate, they were bad. . .they were like -- vile. Vile vibes, man.” 

Harry thinks, while his description is repugnant, he knows exactly what he’s talking about, but there wasn’t much he could do. Harry can make protection spells that are generalized but he doesn’t believe that any of them are strong enough to fend off whatever this thing is. In cases like this one, sometimes dark magic is not good to fight dark magic, it can only make it grow and fester like a nasty, infected wound. He really did not want to try that out on Bradley. . .he may not be fond of the guy, but he didn’t wish anything ill on him. 

“You wouldn’t come to me for a protection spell, for something like that,” Harry begins, “You would need --” You would need Y/N -- is what is about to leave his lips, but it drops away. As much as it’s true -- as much as Harry knows that the reason he felt the safest he’s ever had in Y/N’s presence was whatever protection spells she had put in place and strengthened -- he couldn’t. The thought of sending someone like Bradley to someone like Y/N, makes him feel sick. “Give me one second, yeah? Stay here.” 

Y/N gave him her number that morning, telling him that it was silly for them to be unable to contact one another. Harry saved it into his phone and sent her a picture of Oat so that she would have his, but left it at that -- he had assumed, until this moment, that he would never have a reason to have her number. If he ever wanted anything from her he would just show up at her store. 

But here he was, scrolling through his contact list to find her, pressing her number and holding his phone up to his ear. It only rings twice before she’s answered it, “Hello? Is everything okay Harry, did you get a lead?” 

Harry laughs in disbelief, “What’re you, a detective?” He cleared his throat so he could speak over the music clearly, “I need you for something, and I’ll give you half. And before you get all high and mighty, it isn’t for anything bad -- one of my regulars is experiencing the same fucked thing we have only it’s more vile vibes opposed to blood seeping from the walls. Need a protection spell -- whatever you use for your flat and store.” 

She’s quiet for a moment, long enough that Harry questions if his service dropped, but her voice reappears.

 “Where are you?” 

Fifteen minutes later, Harry is flagging Y/N down to his spot in the club where he stood next to Bradley whose friends kept coming around wondering if Harry was his pull for the night. Her jumper with a printed bunny right in the center made him chuckle to himself -- it was more than clear that she had not planned on coming out tonight, and if not for Harry, he thinks she would have spent three more hours at her store tending to the garden there if not for him. When she sees him, noticeable relief makes her shoulders slump, and as she gets closer, she reaches into her pocket, “Thank god,” she called over the music, “I’ve been in here for three minutes and if I got knocked into one more time I was going to lose it.” 

She produces two things -- one is a tiny vial, with an unidentified green liquid, and the other is a small baggie of her tea. Harry takes both from her hand, “Thank you,” he murmurs, before dipping down closer to her ear, “Go over to that empty table near the bar, I don’t want this guy seeing you clear enough that he could ask you for anything ever again.” 

Though she was confused, she listened to him, slinking her way over to the table while Harry turned to Bradley who had been looking at his phone, before both were placed in front of them, “Thank you,” he tells him, “Thank you, thank you, thank you. How much?” 

“850,” Harry says without batting an eyelash. Typically his business runs closer to the thousands but he cuts the guy a break since he’s scared.

“Each or what?” Bradley asks as he fishes his wallet from his pocket, flipping the leather open and beginning to thumb through his bills. 

“No, just 850,” he takes the bills from him, folding it between his fingers, “I shipped your crystals last week, did they come?” 

Bradley nods, a big grin on his face, “Oh, fuck yeah dude, I almost forgot! I already transferred you the money for them right?” 

Harry thinks it’s a shame that he doesn’t keep track -- he could really scam him if he wanted to, with these black crystals bathed in the water of Asmodeus (they increases stamina and aids them in not being shit in bed; it was a fucking full-day event to get Asmodeus to recognize the clear stream water, in an incubator that he checks every 15 minutes or so to see if the water has been touched red)  “Yeah, you sent double the amount ‘cos your buddy wanted some too, right?” 

“He loved them, mate,  he’s way less narky too now that he’s getting his dick wet.” 

Harry holds back a grimace, “Alright then, stay safe. You know how to contact me if you need anything.” 

Bradley bids his goodbye and Harry seeks out Y/N, who is picking idly at her fingernails and bobbing her head slightly to the music. When he gets close enough to her, he starts on his spiel as he waves the money toward her,

“Listen, Babe, you used your plants to help him, honestly you deserve way more than this -- a fucking Nobel Prize probably,” he holds it out to her, “Here.” 

She shakes her head, but not in the way she would if she were refusing it because she was disgusted by him -- no, instead she closes his hand around it again and presses it closer to his body, “No, no, you keep it, he’s your guy or whatever.” 

Harry tilts his head, brows knitted, “But they’re your plants.” 

“Yeah, but I would just feel guilty taking it from you so --” 

He sighs, counting out 450 of it, taking her hand, opening her fingers, and sliding the bills into her palm, “Even split then. If you’re going to utilize something precious to you to help someone like that fucker, you deserve a little compensation for it. “ 

Y/N must realize that he wasn’t going to let it go, because she finally folds it in her hands, slipping it into her pocket, “What’s with that guy then? Why do you not like him?” 

Harry can see it clearly; the image of his childhood self, his family struggling to make ends meet but going to primary school with the wealthier kids. The ones who laughed at his faded shirts, and holed winter coats -- who would ask him to their birthday parties and talk shit about the gift he’d scraped up coins for doing miscellaneous work around the neighborhood. He thinks about how he knew they would go home to kitchens full of food, and bountiful dinners that they would never appreciate, while Harry never took seconds because no matter how hungry he was, he made sure their bellies were as full as they could be. And Harry remembers how the headmaster did nothing to quell his worries because those kid’s parents could buy out the school if they wanted to. 

He sees it all, and he hears it all, and for a moment -- selfishly -- it makes Harry wish he had never given Bradley the protection spell at all. 

But he only shakes his head, “He’s just a prick,” he answers simply, before nodding his head toward the door, “Reckon we should get out of here, it smells like piss.” 

It’s always a little easier to leave the club than it is to enter it, so they’re out in the cool air soon enough. A small line had formed outside since Harry had been in there last, and as they step out, a group of three is let in through the rope chain that the bouncer is policing. This part of town is always bustling late into the night, so neither feel the cold brush of fear they have been when they’re out in the dark -- or at least the relaxed way Y/N is looking around tells him that she’s pretty content. 

“Do you want to get something to eat?” She asks him, pointing at the 24-hour diner right across the street, that had been strategically placed there because people who are drunk and high who just sweat out half their body weight love greasy food, “I skipped dinner today.” 

“What a coincidence -- so did I.” 

They got a booth in the far back corner, where the white and maroon tilted floor glistened wet from a recent scrub from the mop, and the air smells of lemon pine-sol. This along with the fact that the black leather seats were dusted of the crumbs that usually mottles them, Harry would assume that they had come just in time for their 12 AM clean up, where the first batch of besotted clubbers had left a mess and they were waiting for the second wave to come through. He didn’t miss the eye that the waitress had given them, looking them up and down like she was trying to decipher what state they were both in, but when neither of them wobbles in their stance, or slur through their words asking for a table, she relaxes and asks them where they’d like to sit. 

After they get settled and order their food (Harry convinces her to get one of their malted milkshakes with him -- his favorite was strawberry and after she confessed that she never had their strawberry malt, he was insistent on her trying it), Harry’s curiosity is suddenly piqued as he thinks of something he hadn’t thought of before, “How did you make it over to the club so fast, hm? Do you just have jars of this stuff made laying around?” 

Y/N sticks her clear straw in the icy glass of water she’d been poured, stirring it like there was anything to mix, and the ice cubes clink together soundly, “No, no, I actually don’t make protection spells unless I’m asked directly -- or usually that’s the case, but I was already in the middle of making some for you and me, so I had a little leftover.” 

“For me too?” Harry inquires, genuinely surprised by the concept that she would make him something to keep him safe. She nods though, like it was silly that he thought she wouldn’t have, only this time she reaches into her purse and retrieves two much larger vials with little cork tops, and one bigger bag of the dried leaves, accompanied by a smaller one tied with red ribbon. 

“I was doing some research while I was at work --” 

“You do a lot of research, don’t you?” He cuts her off and she nods. 

“Mhm -- and there’s this like. . .there’s this elder witch who lives an hour or so drive away from us who I think might be immortal, but that’s beside the point. She has this blog that I was scrolling through and she linked her email, so I messaged her and she sent me her number and told me to call her immediately.” She slides one of the vials over to him, along with the tree leaves, “When I did, she told us that we were in a little more danger than everyone else ‘cos like -- whatever this thing is could start trying to feed off of us, especially you. Said that we needed a potent protection spell, and I told her about mine. You feel safe in my store and in my flat right? Like -- like whatever that thing is couldn’t get to us?” He nodded, eyes fixed on hers, “So this is a version of that suitable for our bodies. The tea leaves are for your flat, and then this little bag here --” she points at the one tied closed with the small strip of red ribbon, “-- this is a tea version of it safe for Oat to drink.” 

Not only had she made him some, but she also made Oat some too? As much as he disliked her before, he can’t help how this warms his heart, zipping through his body and makes him feel just as safe as he did when he was wrapped in her quilt snug on her couch. Harry wonders if this is what she’s like all the time with her friends. . .he wonders if this side of her, that researches and makes protection goodies, brews him a cuppa just in case he woke up in the middle of the night and comes out in the depth of night to the seedy clubs she despises just because he called and asked -- if that’s what they get to see. If that’s what he would have seen had their meeting been any different. 

“Thank you,” he murmurs, taking the vial and the bags, looking at them against his palm, “A lot. You didn’t have to do this for me.” 

“I did though,” she takes a drink of the water through her straw, “I may not agree with what you do but we’re the only two witches here and there is power in unity, even if our versions of magic are different. We have to be there for each other -- Thumper agrees, and that’s a lot coming from him because he doesn’t like much of anybody. . .he barely likes me,” she holds her hand up, the index finger of her other going from finger to finger as she lists off the ingredients, “So we’ve got fern, anise, leaves from the ash tree in the forest, fennel -- the nice old woman told me to hold off on the mugwort unless we’re planning on astral projecting or doing anything with divination, but if we felt that it was necessary we could wear a wreath of it around her necks. That’s an old wives tale though, I’m pretty sure.” She wiggles her fingers, “All that and a little bit of moon water, and we have ourselves a little protection spell! I dipped my finger in for a taste test and I’ll be honest, it’s awful and plant-y but I reckon we can toss them back like a shot and chase it with a sweet drink like juice or something.” 

It hits Harry that he gave Y/N very little credit for what she did, but now as he’s looking at something that she’d made specifically with him in mind, that wasn’t just a glorified sleepy time tea, it puts some things in perspective for him. Sure, she’s been a dick to him in the past, but he was a dick too, about her magic. While he isn’t going to start kissing the ground she walks on, he decides then that he’ll be more mindful of her craft. Plus, from the amount of time that they’ve had to spend together in the past two days, she’s tolerable when she isn’t on her high horse about him summoning spirits and ruining the town. She’s even helpful. 

“Thank you,” he repeats, “I really mean it, I appreciate this a lot.” 

Y/N smiles at him and it’s a smile that he’s never been gifted before. A smile that makes him smile back, as she places her elbow on the table and holds out her pinky toward him -- she’s big on pinky swears, he’s finding. 

“We’re looking out for each other, okay? I’ve got your back if you’ve got mine. . .I swear it.” 

Harry locks his pinky with hers without a second thought. 

[orithyia-eriphyle]

Fear |Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader|

Summary: After getting cursed with a fear spell, (Y/n) has to hide her pain from Dean and Sam.

Warnings: None I hope

Pre-relationship

God you hated witches. One of the reasons being that most of them were evil; But the main reason was nearly every witch hunt you, Sam, and Dean go on, you end up getting cursed. And this hunt wasn't an exception.

The three of you and a witch stood in a grimy cabin, you had her cornered. Relief creeped up your spine way too soon. That's how you got hit by her stupid little spell.

You were launched into a wall, Sam ran towards you while Dean shot the witch with a witch killing bullet. "(Y/n)!" Sam knelt next to your worn-out body, Dean following. "I'm fine, chill." Dean scoffed. "You just got thrown through a fucking wall, fine my ass." You rolled your eyes, trying to stand.

Sam held his hand out, you reached to grab it but pausing when you noticed someone in the corner of the room. You pushed yourself away from Sam and Dean and to the other side of the room in utter terror. "(Y/n)?" Dean called out in confusion, but you didn't hear him.

You were to focused on the fact that fucking Lucifer was standing in the same room as you. Didn't you guys kill him? Why aren't Sam and Dean reacting?

Questions ran through your head a mile a minute. And then it hit you like a train. It was the spell. You recalled part of the Latin incantation the witch had mumbled to herself, something about fear. You groaned and leaned your head on the wall behind you. It was a fear spell. Lucifer was just a simple hallucination. He wasn't real.

Now you'd think that Lucifer would be Sam's worst fear, which albeit, probably is; But you got sent to the cage a year after selling your soul to save an old friend. Maybe it was a mix up? Or that you were apart of the Winchester's happy little family. You didn't know, and you no longer cared. You just knew that this was going to be a pain in your ass until you figured out how to reverse it.

***

The three of you made it back to the Bunker in good condition, well, good condition for a hunter. "So do you want to tell us what happened back there." Dean said as he sat down at one of the library tables with a beer, Sam standing at the end of the table with his arms crossed.

You sighed and pinched your nose. "I think that witch hit me with some sort of illusion spell." Sam raised a curious brow, "But Dean killed the witch. So why is the spell still working." You paced and threw your arms in the air out of frustration. "I don't know, but this illusion definitely isn't friendly." Dean furrowed his brows. "What do you mean Sweetheart?"

You breathed in and sat on top of the table. "I think it was a spell that has to do something with my worst fear, because that's what I'm seeing right now." Your eyes darted over to Lucifer who was wiggling his fingers at you like a giddy child. "Aww, I thought you'd miss me. I'm hurt." You glared at the hallucination, "I didn't miss shit."

Dean and Sam glanced at one another before looking back at you. Sam gave you a worried look and asked the question that both of the brothers wanted to hear. "What are you seeing (Y/n)?" You looked at Lucifer, who waved his hands hands at you. "Go on (Y/n). Tell the dear old boys what you're seeing."

You locked eyes with Sam, knowing he'd understand. "Lucifer." Dean's jaw tensed and Sam stood straighter. "Has he done anything?" Dean asked, his protective side coming out. "No, he's just annoying."

Sam took his phone out and started typing. "I'll ask Rowena about your situation." You sighed and started walking towards the hall. "I'm going to my room, I need to think."

***

The next few days were living Hell. You didn't sleep, Lucifer never shut up, you could barely get through a meal without getting 'stabbed' by him. The only time he left you alone was when you had to use the bathroom. You guessed the bastard had some standards.

You were constantly scared or in pain. Despite Lucifer trying to be "friendly" all you could think about was your time in the pit. Every movement you made had you on edge. And the people in your life took notice.

Dean would watch movies with you in his Dean-cave to try and draw your attention away from Satan. Cas would stay up and talk with you because he didn't need rest, and you weren't getting rest anytime soon. Sam would find more lore for you to research so your mind could wonder into something less negative.

Despite everyone's efforts, things only seemed to get worse. You were forgetful due to lack of sleep. You were unmotivated and snappy. The worst part was the fact that you flinched at every little movement, and as much as it was killing you, Dean was also suffering.

It hurt to watch you so scared. It hurt to see you flinch at him. It hurt when you'd say things you didn't mean. It hurt. He wished he could help, but he had no idea where to even start. Sure, they contacted Rowena, but she herself was still trying to find away to reverse the spell. He, Sam, and Cas would go hours on end looking at witch lore, hoping to find any sort of clue.

***

It was a quiet Sunday morning, Sam was in the library doing Sam-things, Dean was snoring away, and Cas was God-knows-where. Lucifer had been relatively quiet the last few hours, or as quiet as the Devil could be. You made yourself a large breakfast, Lucifer bothering you made it hard to eat, but since he was quiet you could actually get something into your system.

You sat across from Sam as he read lore, your eyes darting around the room, expecting Lucifer to pop out at any moment. "Is he bothering you right now?" You looked up at Sam as you shoveled a fork-full of scrambled eggs into your mouth. "No, he's being quiet this morning." "Well that's good." You looked to the doorway where Dean's voice had come from. Dean walked towards the table, taking a seat next to you.

"That's exactly why I'm on edge... more so than usual." You grabbed a plate and put bacon and eggs on it, handing it to Dean. "Thanks Sweetheart." He drank his coffee before continuing. "As much as I appreciate your great cooking, I don't want you pushing yourself. You're absolutely exhausted as it is."

A small smile made its way to your lips, "It's fine Dean, I need to stay distracted." You looked back down at your plate and continued to eat, Dean staring at you with concern written all over his face.

Everything was peaceful in that short time. No Lucifer, no bad moods, or flinching. Dean felt a little better about your condition now. Maybe the spell only lasted a certain amount of time? He wasn't sure, but he was glad you were feeling better.

Sam smiled to himself, also happy that his best friend's condition was improving.

They were wrong. Even you thought you were improving, but it was just some cruel joke Lucifer decided to play.

"I haven't even been gone a day and you're already talking about me." You jumped up as Lucifer appeared behind Sam's seat. You gripped your fork, your knuckles turning white. This didn't go unnoticed by Sam and Dean. They both knew what had happened.

Dean wanted to hug you, but he knew better. Ever since Lucifer started hanging around, your reflexes were even sharper. Every slight touch sent you into a fit. Cas learned that the hard way when he tried to grab your attention by grabbing your shoulder.

Lucifer pulled a hunting knife out of his coat. "I thought you enjoyed my company (Y/n)." He made his way around the table, now standing behind your chair. Sam and Dean watched your movements carefully. "Don't kid yourself Lucifer, I've never like your company and you know it."

Lucifer knelt down, his mouth now level with your ear. You closed your eyes and dropped your fork. Opting to squeeze Dean's arm instead. Lucifer drew hid blade down your cheek. The cut drawing blood. Obviously, you were the only one who saw and felt the blood, the pain wasn't real. But it felt real to you.

"I waited awhile to bother you again. I thought I'd give you a moment of serenity, only to rip it right out of your hands." He continued to leave little cuts all across your shoulders and neck. "It's pitiful to watch really."

A bang from the front door made you snap your eyes open. You still had a death-grip on Dean's arm. Dean knew not to move away from you, not when you were so vulnerable. Dean nodded at Sam, a silent signal. Sam went to the door, grabbing his gun on the way.

He opened the door to a grinning Rowena. "Hello boys!' She made her descent down the steps, looking at your exhausted form. "And girl." Dean looked at Rowena, seriousness etched into his rugged features. "Did you figure out how to reverse the spell." Rowena set her duffel bag on the table. "I indeed did find away to reverse this wee spell."

Your back straightened, a tired smile pulling at your lips. "Really?" Your body filled with hope, and Dean would be dammed if your reaction to the news wasn't the most adorable thing ever. Though he'd never admit that to anyone but himself.

"Yes Dearie, it was strenuous, but I couldn't leave my favorite hunter like this." She began setting up the things needed for the spell. Rowena handed Sam a drawing. "Mark that on the floor with this." Rowena handed Sam a jar of some strange liquid. Sam went to work painting the symbol as you and Dean sat at the table waiting. Dean wanted to help, but your death-grip on his forearm said otherwise.

"Alright Dear, step into the circle." You let go of Dean and walked to the symbol on the ground. You stood in the middle, Dean stood just outside the circle for support. "Ready?" Rowena asked as she pulled a small book out of her bag. "More than ready."

Rowena began chanting in Latin. The lights in the room flickered and the shelves rattled. Soon enough the ruckus stopped, along with Rowena's chanting.

You opened your eyes to a room with only you, Sam, Dean, and Rowena. You stepped out of the circle in relief. "Thank you Rowena." Rowena smiled, but it turned to a frown when you collapsed. Luckily, Dean was there to catch you.

Dean smiled fondly at your unconscious form, "She's been waiting for this nap for awhile now." Sam and Rowena smiled. "I'll take her to her room." Dean said as he turned and made his way down the hallway with you in his arms.

Dean sat you on your bed gently, covering you in blankets. He leaned down and kissed the crown of your head, whispering.

"I love you."

[localcactushugger]

Honestly the thing that really pisses me off, the thing that really hurts the most, about the Hawks vs. Twice conflict is the fact that they had so much potential.

I know on my blog I post mostly about Hawks and bnha leaks, but Twice was by far my favorite Villian and I loved seeing him every time he showed up. I love and understand both Hawks and Twice.

And Horikoshi fucking robbed us.

He robbed us of potentially the most hilarious and pure bromance in all of Bnha history.

All because of the fucking plot.

Think of the beautiful dynamic these two already had! They were only together for what? 2, maybe 3 months at most? And during that time they both learned to sympathize with each other. They even laughed at each other's jokes!!

They actually cared about each other even though their goals and morals didn't exactly aligne.

Both of them saw each other as "good/ kind hearted people" who were deserving of sympathy:

"You're a swell guy!" "Right back at ya."

"You're a good person."

"Anyone who wants to help their friends can't be all that bad." "I know you're good natured." "Let's fly free together!"

"I empathize with their cause." "I wanna fly free"

LOOK AT THEM JOKING AND LAUGHING TOGETHER!!!

LOOK AT THE FINGER GUNS!!

ARE YOU FUCKING KIDDING ME??? WE WERE ROBBED OF THIS:

I'm still so fucking salty about it. It's genuinely upsetting to me.

What's sad is that both of them genuinely cared and wanted to help each other. They just couldn't because their goals were so different.

Twice wanted to help his friends and "protect their happiness" more than anything, and that's why he was fine with helping them destroy/take over Japan. Because nothing matters more than the league's happiness. He'd burn down the world and "sell his soul" to make the Leauge happy! They were his friends. His family. They were his everything!

And Hawks' goal revolved around keeping the people of Japan safe. It revolved around making sure the Leauge didn't hurt anyone because "If you had just captured the Leauge when you had the chance . . ! Think of how many citizens might be alive today!" It revolved around making sure that "everyone would be able to laugh by the time the next cherry blossoms fall."

Both of them were kind hearted genuinely good people. The only difference is that they fought to protect different things.

But that doesn't mean they didn't care about each other or didn't reach out. Both of them reached out!

Twice reaching out: "I know we're being monitored right now, but I wish they'd stop spying on you! I get how you feel."

Hawks reaching out: "You've been unlucky, but you can make a fresh start once you pay for your crimes. I'll even help you start over! Because you're a good person."

Twice didn't know why a hero would sympathize with the liberation army. But a person who wanted to help his friends couldn't be that bad right?

Hawks knew how powerful Twice was and all the horrible things the Liberation army was planning for Japan. But Twice was good natured and kind right?

Both of them made efforts to understand each other. But neither of them could let go of their goals or the things they wanted to protect.

Twice remained loyal to the Leauge. To protect his friends happiness.

Hawks remained loyal to his mission. To protect the people of Japan.

Both characters were sympathetic towards each other, but at the same time they were both fiercely determined to do what they thought was right in the moment. It makes perfect sense story and character wise . . .

BUT THINK OF THE BROMANCE WE LOST!!

I'm still so upset about it!! I was so happy when Twice and Hawks started to warm up to each other, even though I knew it wouldn't turn out well.

Can you imagine these two doing finger guns? Laughing at each other's jokes?? Eating Yakitori together and making up secret handshakes???

They had such a pure, funny, bittersweet dynamic that pulled at my heart strings and made me laugh at the same time.

Honestly I don't know where I'm going with this. I just wanted to rant about the two of them for a bit because I love them both. And I just know if they weren't on the opposite sides of a war they would've been the bestest bros in the world.

Y'all can have whatever opinions you want about Hawks and Twice. But this is a post meant to appreciate their short-lived friendship and amazing dynamic. It's meant to appreciate and show love for both of their characters.

So please keep any bitter comments away from this post. I know everyone has different opinions about these two, but I've heard the debates a million times. Any disrespectful or mean notes will be deleted swiftly.

Just keep the vibes of this post nice okay? Why can we never have nice things in this fandom?

The whole Hero stan vs. Villain stan thing honestly ruins it for me, and I've quickly learned that It destroys all room for understanding and only creates division.

So whatever 12 yr old created the toxic Hero vs. Villain stan dynamic in this fandom, I hope you step on a Lego. Because I'm sure that dynamic has ruined a lot of characters for some people.

If you're someone who can't like a character just because they're a "villain" or a "hero", I'm genuinely sorry for you and I hope you know it's not your fault. This fandom likes to make the whole Hero vs. Villain thing a competition sometimes, and all the extremely biased metas don't always leave room for debate. Sometimes it can even make you feel like you have to pick a side. And it can make it hard for people to enjoy some character's as well.

People will try to demonize Twice.

People will try to demonize Hawks.

Obviously you can love whatever characters you want regardless of their roles in the story, but It's sad how that kind of division in a fandom leaves little room for understanding. And it's sad how quickly a fandom can ruin a character for some people as well. (I've had characters almost be ruined for me too. It sucks.)

Obviously, as a human being I also have my opinions, biases, and favorite characters. And having those isn't a bad thing! Just so long as you're respectful about it. And I'm saying this as someone who has, admittedly, partaken in the Hero vs. Villain stan dynamic once or twice myself. Even though I personally think that dynamic is dumb. I've also had moments where I've lost patience over "bad takes" I didn't like as well. I'm not perfect. No one is, and you can disagree with me all you like if you want. It's chill dude. 👌👌👌

But I would like to keep this post conflict free. In my opinion, Twice and Hawks are both genuinely good people. This is not something I will ever budge on. And i want to enjoy both of their beautiful characters just this once. I love and understand them both your honor. ✋😔