#Over Lords of Hell as required; he's NOT a push over as much as I used to make him seem like one in some past threads

[flamemittens]

TOO LATE. I SEND WITHOUT YOUR PERMISSION. FOR THE FLOWER ASK: FERN

Flower Language Prompts from here.

Pairing - Gortash x Fem!Durge. 730 words.

Fern - "In a world of magic, the greatest miracle was you."

She has always surprised him.

Is still surprising him, even after all this time, after all they have been through together. She’s been a particular triumph to discover, to puzzle out, to learn over the years—and a frustration at times too, if he’s honest.

The living weapon he met in those early months, and sought to wield himself, has long since become, in a word, more. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. Hells, none of this was. Hands that were only supposed to shake once in agreement, now firmly clasped together, oftentimes sweat-slicked and longing.

She has her more chaotic, unknowable, and frankly odd moments, and he has learnt how to deal with it all. She is silk laid over a serrated blade. However, she has become a kindred spirit in so many ways he was not expecting. A hand-crafted match.

Tonight, she’s here in his chambers once more, perched on one of his knees as she thumbs through a sketchbook on his desk. She had declined his offer of a proper chair when she arrived earlier via the terrace windows as per her custom—for once blessedly clean of the aftermath of her calling—instead opting to sit herself down on him and simply respond- ‘This will do’.

“Very well, you infuriating woman” was his retort, slipping a hand round her hip to steady her. “Here. I have something for you to look at.”

And now, he sips at his whisky as he watches her study the schematics. He offers her no hints, but it does not take long for her to discover the amendment. Her face lights up when she sees it, tapping the page with an elegant index finger. “I see you have solved your potential problem with the exponentially high-power requirement at high velocity. This low friction spherical joint design should take care of that.”

He never doubted her. Still, every time, the feeling of being understood, even appreciated, touches him in a way he does not know how to parse. He’s not even sure he wants to.

“And the fusion of biological ideals with that of the mechanical? This is…this is brilliant, Enver.”

He feels almost foolish at how easily the praise stokes the warmth in his chest nursed by the alcohol. His hand reflexively grips her hip a little tighter, as the other swirls the amber liquid in its glass. An idle thought floats to him—he recalls how she had once told him how much she liked the scent of the whisky on his breath. The taste of it on his tongue.

“Yes” is all he offers.

She stops and considers him for a moment, head canted to the side as if somehow the angle will make things clearer.

“You are in a strange mood tonight. You are quiet. Laconic. What ails you?” she tuts, placing her hand on his forehead in a parody of concern for his temperature.

She then shifts closer, and cards her fingers through his hair, nails lightly raking his scalp. It’s soft, too soft for them. He should stand up, take his leave—but he doesn’t. Instead, he thinks about all the things he wants to say to her; the words sit dangerously, blasphemously, close to the tip of his tongue amongst the whisky. He swallows it all down.

“As you wish” she says after a spell, lips curling upwards in a fleeting smirk. He catches it, as he always does. “Keep your secrets, Lord Gortash.”

She does not push him. She knows not to.

Suddenly she sighs, closes the book, and stands up; he briefly mourns the loss of the warmth, and wonders if she will insist on making her departure now. He would not blame her. He is poor company tonight. He opens his mouth to try asking her to stay, but before his brain can supply the words, she turns and settles in his lap, straddling him, hands smoothing down his shirt collar—she’s a familiar, comforting weight even as her orange-gold eyes assess him further. A lesser man would wilt under such scrutiny. But not him. A lesser man—and the world is full of damnably lesser men—would not be able to know her, to value her, to match her—nor be able to coax one final climax from her when she thinks she has given her all. Only he can.

To that end, he reaches up and brushes a lock of hair behind her ear. It’s easier to fall into their usual routine—offering a suggestion, an invitation.

“It’s late. Shall we retire, my dear?”

[radiosdevil]

Something I was meaning to write out for a LOOOOOOOOOONG time now (and I mean, like for YEARS) but now that the finale's out I really wanna mention this-

I'm pretty sure I've mentioned it SOMEWHERE on this blog (if I haven't, I need to add it to the About section whenever I stop being depressed) but Alastor when in Devil/Fae unlimited form has a power level that puts him in the lower top third of the Angel/Hell's Hierarchy. Other strong Overlords would be in this area as well but since I'm flexible on who else is in the 'Honorary Angel' Club given I want to leave it open for any RP partners who may want their muse to join in on the Main Verse fun, Alastor's the main example of this phenomenon on this blog.

It's one of the reasons why the 'True Angels' are wary and keep a close eye on Alastor since only a few of them, the stronger of the Seven Deadly Sins, and the Royal Family of Hell would be able to stop him if he somehow broke the Seraph's control and went on a rampage.

That said, whenever I RP with other Alastors or with multiverse/Devil-Fae Al with other Hazbin muses and in the past, I deliberately hold my Alastor back and allow him to get hurt if he pokes the tiger too much and they lash out. But the potential for him to do serious damage to and even kill other muses is always there, I just try to make it fair and fun for everyone with this over powered bastard involved. (Also, I was waiting to see if we would get more information on his abilities as well as the ones I headcanon/gave to my au Alastor but eh. The lazy writing/brainstorming was always secondary.)

Why am I making a point to make myself write this out now? Well... Something happens in the Finale (no spoilers here) but given I used to RP another over powered muse who (spoilers *cough* does take damage *cough*) on screen, some people would assume that meant just any Muse could walk up and beat up/physically attack my muse and NOT have their muse be dealt with at the Power Level my muse had. Which can be fine if their muse is the same power level and we both know that or if we discussed it beforehand, and-or the situation allows them to (see above examples). But it was so annoying to deal with and made me not want to do certain ideas and threads I originally was excited about. I just don't want that to happen here when I get more consistent Muse back and try to get more active. So I'm making sure I write it out and put it on the blog somewhere NOW while I'm thinking of it.

[cas-backwards-tie]

Chapter One: Assembly Required

Baron Helmut Zemo x Reader

The Missing Title

Summary: Enlisted to help a friend with a crisis you once specialized in, you find yourself in a foreign country getting ready for a mission in which the details you're unaware of. Reunited with a good friend, you follow his unhinged partner as you all prepare to stop more harm from being released onto the world.

Words: 5k

Warnings: Cursing, Illegal Activities, Terrorists, Politics, Bombs, Assassinations, Criminals, Secrets,

A/N: So I watched the series this summer, and while I hadn't anticipated to get hooked onto anything, a surprise appearance from Zemo had me falling in love with his character and now I'm writing this series and it'll just evolve forward into a story I've been daydreaming up these past few months. Also thank you to @imamotherfuckingstar-lord for hyping me up and encouraging me to step out of my comfort zone with the future topics of this story.

“Whatever, we just need to get inside,” Bucky dismisses Sam’s introduction to you. Truly, it’s a reintroduction, since you’d met him once or twice before, even if it was really only in passing.

From all the stories you’ve heard, you’re sure his attention was elsewhere, so you aren’t too dissuade by his stiff attitude. Sam offers you an annoyed glance in hopes that you, too, are either amused or off-put by the ex-assassin’s dour aura. With an alacrity you'd rarely seen in the past few years, his partner opens the auto shop's door and heads inside.

"What're you talking about, you wanna break Zemo outta jail?" Sam asks the man, clearly more perturbed by the incurring situation you'd stumbled into upon your good friend, Torres’, request. "Where the hell are we, Buck? Have you lost your mind?" Following both the men with the little light their flashlights emit, you listen, unsure what exactly the job Joaquin sent you to help out on entails.

"We have no leads, no moves, nothing-" Bucky answers, but Sam cuts him off.

"-Except the one I just called in, yeah. What we have is one of the most dangerous men in the world behind bars," Sam argues. Rounding the shelves of oil, dirtied gloves, tools, and mechanical parts, you try and watch your step. Albeit the darkness makes it harder than necessary to find your way without stumbling. Burner phone dug out of your pocket, you shine its faint light around your surroundings.

"And we also have eight super soldiers that are loose," Bucky reasons, his light casting downward as Sam shines it on him stepping over a rig. Despite not knowing James well, you know most people call him 'Bucky', and you know it's probably best not to interfere with the two men considering you're aware of Sam's indulgence when it comes to arguing. Hell, him and Joaquin could bicker for the rest of time. The thought elicits an amused eye roll on your behalf.

"Look, Zemo's gonna mess with our minds. Especially yours, no offense," Sam rebuttals, following suit as he steps over the rig. Suddenly his light is held still and there's a loud click before overhead lights come on all around you guys, lighting up what you can now see is a garage. Granted, the outside did have a sign indicating it was an auto-shop, you never know if it’s just a cover.

"Offense," Bucky comments, laying his flashlight aside on top one of the movable shelving carts. "Super soldiers go against everything he believes in. He is crazy, but he still has a code." Lips parting in thought, you're about to speak up when Sam beats you to it.

"Yeah, and I've been on the wrong side of that code, Buck, and so have you. He blew up the UN, he killed King T'chaka and framed you for it. Did you forget that?" Eyeing his partner with a ludicrous look in his eyes, he quickly finishes his train of thought. "You think the Wakandans forgot about it? It's a rhetorical question- they didn't. I know why this matters to you, but come on, it's pushing you off the deep end."

Despite your abhorrence for bickering, there was admittedly not much you could contribute to the conversation. Though the name ‘Zemo’ sounds familiar, you can’t pinpoint its origin. Tucking your burner phone into your back pocket, you place your hands on your hips in waiting. A big breath puffs out your cheeks as you pray they come to some sort of conclusion sooner than later.

"Sam, we don't know how they're gettin' the serum. We don't even know how many of them there are. Look, let me just walk you through a hypothetical. Can I walk you through a hypothetical?" Though the topic is concerning, Bucky’s phrasing and search of consent elicit an amused smile.

"What did you do?" Sam asks accusingly, like the man’s already committed some sort of crime.

"I didn't do anything. The weakest point in a system isn't the software, or the hardware, it's the meatware. The human element. Now, in this lockup, it's nine to one, prisoners to guards. And if two prisoners start fighting, then the protocol says four guards have to respond-“ Bucky starts to explain.

“-So why would two prisoners randomly start fighting at that moment?" Sam questions.

"-Who knows? There could be many reasons. But the point is, these things escalate. Lockdown procedures would have to be initiated with all those bodies flying around left and right, it wouldn't be hard to slip down a hallway or two. And if the fire alarm got tripped while the prisoners were being separated, someone could use the chaos to their advantage." With his thorough knowledge of the protocols, it’s clear Bucky has a plan.

"I don't like how casual you're bein' about this. This is unnatural. Are you... and- where are we, man?!" Sam comes back to reality, demanding an answer as hypotheticals really won’t do much for whatever super soldier problem is going on. In the distance the metallic sound of a hinge squeaking and a click of a lock signals a door’s been opened.

Eyes flitting to its source, the three of you watch in anticipation as a blurry figure approaches, its shadow cast upon the hanging plastic curtains of the auto shop. Lifting a section of said curtain, a police officer or guard of some sort enters. Considering the lack of people around, you assume he’s here to arrest you all for trespassing. Vision shifting to the men in hopes they have a better plan than you, the two of them surprisingly don’t move.

“WHOA, whoa, whoa, whoa, whoa- what’re you doin’ here?!” Sam yells, clearly upset by the man’s presence.

“No, listen. Look, I didn't wanna tell you cause I knew you wouldn't let this happen. Okay?" Bucky says calmly, a confusing juxtaposition for you, to say the least.

"What did you do?!" Sam turns his attention to Bucky.

“Nothing, according to him,” you quip. Gears turning within your mind, you’re starting to wonder if this is that ‘Zemo’ character they were just talking about. The former Winter Soldier aims a glare at you momentarily before refocusing on Sam.

“We need him,” Bucky asserts.

"You're going back to prison!" Sam declares, focus and pointer finger now targeting the dressed up guard.

"If I may,” the man speaks, lifting a finger to weigh in the conversation.

"No!" Both Sam and Bucky simultaneously yell, their similarity amusing if it weren’t a serious situation. If this is that ‘Zemo’ guy they were talking about who’s in prison… then clearly they’re in trouble.

"Apologies,” the mystery man’s accented voice elicits your attention which shifts over to him. Eyeing him up and down, you feel like he looks familiar in a strange way, but your memory is failing you in this moment. As his eyes turn in your direction, yours dart back to the two men closest to you.

"When Steve refused to sign the Sokovia Accords, you backed him. You broke the law, and you stuck your neck out for me. I'm asking you to do it again,” Bucky’s words elicit slight paranoia and anger within you. Torres didn’t mention the help you’d be giving was illegal. While you’d technically broken the law before, it’s not something you were ever hoping to do again. If something goes wrong… you aren’t sure if you’ll be able to get out of this, and going to jail is not an option. Hopefully Torres could work something out if worse comes to worst.

"I really think I'm invaluable,” mystery man speaks up again. While you’re distracted by the notion of mentally planning next steps, the comment elicits a mildly amused smirk from you.

"Shut up,” Sam commands the guard-dressed man. He spares a glance in your direction, tacitly seeking affirmation, which he’s granted. “Okay. If we do this, you don't make a move without our permission.” Sam directs the latter of his sentence toward the accented man, to which he subtly shrugs.

"Fair,” he comments, holding the black cap between his hands in front of him. It reads ‘JUSTIZ’ in white big bold capital letters across the front.

"Okay, Zemo. Where do we start?" Sam inquires, handing the reins--temporarily, knowing Sam--over to the man in uniform.

“Woah, woah! He’s the guy? The one you were talking about- the UN Bomber?!” You exclaim, hands thrown out in front of you as you gauge the two familiar men.

Sam sighs, running a hand over his face. “Why do you think we made such a big deal out of it?”

“The one and only,” Zemo—as you now know—responds all too calmly for your preference. Though what were you expecting, really? The man who supposedly (if you remember correctly) broke up the Avengers, according to the news.

“Correction: you made a big deal,” Bucky retorts, a disgruntled look sent in Sam’s direction.

“Nevertheless, first I need to grab a few items,” Zemo states, turning and walking back behind the plastic curtain in the direction he’d come from. Though the two man-children behind you begin to bicker again, you follow the criminal behind the curtain. This attracts their attention as they follow, intent on watching Zemo and making sure he doesn’t escape.

Opposite where he’d come in there’s another door. Pushing it open, you walk through; a few feet ahead Zemo confidently walks toward a black sedan-style car that looks like something out of an old Hollywood movie. “Woah,” you whisper, taking in all the little details of what’s clearly more a showroom than a garage.

“So our first move is grand theft auto?" Sam asks sarcastically, you assume based off his tone. Approaching a yellow-colored convertible car of the same antique classiness you slowly reach out and run your hand along the smooth metal, taking in the intricate detaling.

"These are mine. Collected by family over the generations,” Zemo informs, opening the trunk of the black car nearest the door you all had entered through. Though you can see him stashing equipment into a duffel bag in your peripheral vision, you follow Bucky and Sam suit as you marvel over the opulent vintage automobiles.

"I spent years hunting people HYDRA recruited to recreate the serum-" Zemo explains. Information cataloging in your mind, your heartrate accelerates slightly as your vision shifts between the men in hopes of gauging their mentality. As the known terrorist approaches the vehicle you'd just been examining, you feel yourself stiffen slightly. Surely if he'd wanted me dead he'd have killed me already, right? As he opens the right-side back door and rummages inside, it seems as though everyone's attention has returned to the one speaking. "-Because once it's out there, someone can create an army of people like the Avengers." Slow and deliberate with his word choice, you can tell that there may not be any secrets left unsaid. As the man's intense brown eyes shift over toward you, and then Bucky, your jaw clenches, and you swallow.

Uprighting himself, he continues. "I ended the Winter soldier program once before. I have no intention to leave my work unfinished." With this revelation, relief washes over you and your tension ebbs again. At least it seems, for now, that you're not on his list. Crossing your arms over your chest, you refocus on the information Zemo's relaying. "To do this we'll have to scale a ladder of lowlifes." While the terrorist walks off toward the other side of the garage, you turn and follow his figure.

"Join the party, we've already started," Sam comments, seemingly trying to piece together whatever plan Zemo is forming. Walking after him, you try to keep up considering the man seems to be taking lead.

"First stop is a woman named Selby--mid-level fence I still have a line on--from there, we climb," Zemo explains. While an eyebrow quirks in confusion at the term 'fence' you don't verbally question it. It's obvious whoever he's talking about is some kind of 'in' and while Joaquin hadn't taught you everything he knows, you can still follow along with enough context to understand what they're talking about.

--------

It'd been easy enough to get to the airport as it wasn't far, only about a twenty-minute ride in a taxi. While the men attempted to ascertain a location from Zemo, the criminal had been reluctant to indulge them, simply profiting a 'you'll know soon enough.' to keep them satisfied.

"So how was the flight here?" Sam inquires, finally turning his attention to you as the past half hour has been hectic. Sitting between Sam and Zemo, you try not to let the awkwardness of the whole situation get to you. Up front, an old man drives the taxi while Bucky had insisted on the passenger's seat. The ex-Winter Soldier stares out the windshield, yet something tells you he's eavesdropping, which you wouldn't put past anyone in this vehicle, honestly.

"It was fine. Short enough, though the constant 'we're here, now we're here, no, we're here- was somewhat annoying. Like, I just kept having to reroute and figure out how the hell I was gonna get to you when you guys couldn't keep still for even a second!" This elicits a laugh from your friend on the left, and you can't help but smile for the first time since you'd arrived.

"Kind of hard to do when you've got an agent on your ass," Sam comments, an amused smile on his lips as he leaves room for you to continue.

"Oh God, who is it this time?" Palming your face, you know that this mission is dangerous, yet you haven't been involved in this world for a while, and considering the subject matter, it's rather crucial you help them out.

"The new shield," Sam explains. He gives you a tight-lipped disapproving smile, nodding in understandance of your reaction. Eyebrows raised and lips parting in shock, you shouldn't be surprised, yet you are.

"That's why Joaquin warned me," a hum escapes your lips, "makes sense. Can't say I'm a fan, granted I don't know him."

"You don't need to know him to know he's doing something despicable," Bucky comments from the front, not bothering to even spare a glance in anyone's direction.

"Hey now-" Sam goes to start something, yet you interrupt him with a dissatisfied noise.

"So we know that whoever their supplier is, they've gotta have a lab. A professional one, one big enough to be producing the-" you glance at the driver in the rearview mirror, "stuff, and once we know where we're going I can start looking into a lead. Sound good?"

The distraction seemed to work for now as both your acquaintances respond in some form. Bucky nods up front, the two of you momentarily making eye contact in the side mirror.

"Yeah," Sam answers, arms crossing over his chest as he sits back in the seat. Luckily, the airport is already approaching in the distance.

Upon arrival all the doors are thrown open and the men evacuate the vehicle. Zemo lingers at the door as he holds it open. Unaware of the implication, you instinctively slide out on your left, following your old friend, Sam. "How much do we owe him?" You ask. As Bucky begins speaking with the driver and Sam dismisses you with a wave of his hand, you follow Zemo as he walks toward the airport's runway.

The infamous 'Avengers' follow you two suit, the both of them adorned with sunglasses, even if it's not the brightest out today. Readjusting your duffel bag on your shoulder, you aren't entirely sure what Zemo's plan is here.

"So all this time you've been rich?" Sam asks incredulously, and it's then that you realize the private jet the group of you are approaching is for you. Steps falling behind, your lips part in shock and surprise. Bucky notices your change in pace and offers a look back in your direction, a quirked brow. Small legs quickening their pace once again to catch up to the tall men, you contain your awe.

"I'm a Baron, Sam. My family was royalty until your friends destroyed my country," Zemo answers. Another revelation, another piece of information you hadn't known and hadn't anticipated. While the man may be an international terrorist and criminal, you hadn't paid the case too much attention as it was going on considering you were going through your own set of problems within your work field during that time.

"A Baron?" You echo Zemo's answer as you outwardly process this information. Though you're by no means stupid, the title is something you're not the most familiar with.

"Yes, the thirteenth, to be exact," Zemo responds, offering a look back in your direction before returning his attention to the man awaiting your group at the steps of the private jet. The puzzle only grows as Zemo greets the older gentleman in a language you don't understand. With extended arms, the well-dressed gentleman takes the Baron into his arms. Kisses placed on either cheek, you find the custom familiar. Smiles on both the men's faces, you feel taken aback. Mind reeling, you only find your curiosity toward this criminal growing. "Please," Zemo encourages you all to follow him up the steps.

Sam mumbles something to the older gentleman, and Bucky doesn't acknowledge him as he gestures with his hand for you to go up first. The older gentleman begins to take your bag off your shoulder, but your hand is quick to find its way atop his. "It's okay, I've got it. Thank you."

"Are you sure, Miss?" The elderly man asks in English. With a nod, he releases the strap of your bag and offers a polite smile. Following Sam up the steps, the other two men follow suit.

With help from the taller men to stuff your bag in one of the compartments toward the back of the jet, you find the only open seat is the one across from Zemo. It shouldn't be a surprise, despite Sam and Bucky's marriage-like bickering relationship, they're friends, teammates, and are more fond of one another than you'd guess they are of Zemo.

Before you know it, the jet is taking off and you're in the air for the second time today. "I don't believe we've been properly introduced," the Baron extends a hand in your direction, eyes roaming your face as you do the same, taking one another in.

With a quick look toward Sam, you're sure the worry in your eyes shows. Just as the Baron is about to sit back and retract his hand, you envelop his hand with your own, much smaller one. A firm shake between you two, you aren't sure what Zemo will make of your past, but surely he'll find out at some point.

"It's fine," Sam says your name, catching your attention. Even if the reassurance is small, you trust him.

With a divulgence of your full name, you offer Zemo a polite smile. "I take it you and Sam are friends? Former partners, I assume?" he questions, his head tilting slightly as he gauges both your, and Sam's reaction. The latter coughs, suddenly turning his attention out the window. You take that as your cue to answer.

"We've worked together once or twice, but... really yes, we're more friends than anything. One of his coworkers and friends is like a brother to me."

"Apologies if that's a little warm, the fridge is out-" the elderly man from earlier hands Zemo a glass of champagne, "-but I will see if there is some good food in the galley," he informs the Baron. From his attire, you've realized in the short time between boarding and taking off that the man is Zemo's butler.

Accepting the flute, the Baron responds in a language that sounds akin to Russian, you'd guess. The butler laughs, "Oh, it's good to have you back, Sir." Although you're not sure why, a small smile graces your features as you watch the butler turn to leave, though he suddenly turns back. "Can I get you anything, Miss?"

With a look between the butler and Zemo, who simply repeats his earlier indulgence of 'please', you shake your head, only to furrow your brows, rethinking. "Actually, water maybe, if you can, please?"

"Of course, Miss." The butler offers a polite smile and nod before turning to retreat into the galley toward the front.

"A friend of yours?" You question, turning back to face Zemo. Swallowing the sip of champagne he'd taken, he nods.

"Something like that," he responds with a look you can only attribute to playfulness in his eyes. "Can I ask how you've wound up on this exploit alongside us?"

Eyes shifting toward the windows beside your seats, you feel your heart beating a little faster under his gaze Zemo stares intently at you. Unwavering attention, he simply sips his drink as he waits for an answer.

"I, um... used to work for the CIA in their R and D department," you admit, swallowing the thick feeling in your throat as you contemplate explaining the whole truth.

"Which is how you met Torres," Sam comments with a smile, swiveling in his chair as he engages in the conversation.

"Yeah," you respond, meeting Sam's gaze. "though none of us knew what they were doing at first, we were just hired as scientists to test and develop certain biological elements. Our friend--" you turn your attention back to Zemo, hoping to clarify, "--Joaquin, the one who's like a brother to me, he wasn't a scientist, but we came into contact a few times and considering we grew up together we ended up in similar fields: the government."

"And how you met Sam," Zemo assumes, to an exactly correct truth.

"Yes, eventually."

"So you worked in Eugenics?" Zemo dares to ask, blatantly. Though you hadn't been expecting the boldness, you aren't surprised by the question. It was reasonable.

"In some ways... yes, though we thought at the time we were only doing it for the benefit of the people's health. Eradicating diseases, testing possible solutions and seeing how they affected the gene code," you explain. "Things... changed, toward the end, toward the snap..." trailing off, it's clear to everyone that there's a story there.

Not interested in divulging your secrets and past traumas, you don't indulge the following silence. While Sam may know a few select details of what occurred in the R and D department, he doesn't know the whole truth of what happened to your unit. Only what their cover-up was.

"You don't know what it's like to be locked in a cell," Zemo comments, his thoughts obviously having drifted from the conversation. "Oh, that's right- you do." Turning his attention to Sam, he offers him a grimace along with false cheers, sipping his warm champagne.

"Why don't you tell us about where we're going?" Sam pressures, swiftly changing topics as he doesn't wish to go down memory lane, and certainly doesn't want to entertain anymore thought of your previous life, nor the onslaught of questions, ethics, and morals he knows Zemo would cave to if he had you alone.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes with a wave of his hand before flipping another page in the small book he'd produced from his jacket a few moments ago. "I was just fascinated by this," the Baron comments. Eyeing the front of the book, you don't speak German, however, you can recognize it. 'Das Offene Nein In Der Liebe' reads the title, though you don't recognize any words besides 'nein', meaning 'no', and 'der' which you're pretty sure means 'the'. Curious as to why Zemo is suddenly avoiding Sam's questioning under the guise of reading, your eyebrows furrow.

"I don't know what to call it, but this part seems to be important. Who is Nakajima?" Zemo asks. In a sudden movement that makes you yelp and jump, Bucky has his gloved hand wrapped around Zemo's throat. Wide-eyed, you stare in shock and fear as you aren't sure what to do.

"If you touch that again, I'll kill you," the ex-Winter Soldier whispers, eyes filled with anger as he threatens the Baron. The thief quickly nods and Bucky retracts his hand, sitting back in his seat. Letting a big breath slowly filter through your lips, you try not to let the situation unsettle you. After all, from the fleeting moments you've been acquainted, Bucky's always been a wild card.

"I'm sorry," Zemo apologizes again, to your surprise. While you don't know either of the two men well, you hadn't heard them to be quite as... dramatic, as they've been the last hour. Still gathering yourself, you try not to meet anyone's gaze as your eyes travel to the flute Zemo still somehow holds in his grip. "I understand that list of names. People you've wronged as the Winter Soldier."

Your association with the man brought up, you let your gaze flit over to him, Bucky's face somewhat stoic on the outside, yet the faint view of his eyes from your position lets you see that Zemo's not wrong.

"Don't push it," the man warns, and you can't help but offer Bucky a sympathetic smile. While you don't know too much of his story or personal life, you've heard about how he's been through more than anyone could ever imagine.

"I've seen that book-" Sam speaks up, and you have no doubt he's trying to lessen the tension between the four of you. "It was Steve's when he came out of the ice. I told him about Trouble Man- he wrote it in that book. Did you hear it? What'd you think?" Sam asks, turning the conversation into something more causerie.

"I like Fortie's music, so..." Bucky responds, finally shifting his attention back to Sam as opposed to staring out the window like he'd been doing for most of the conversation since take off.

"You didn't like it?" Sam asks, obviously offended in some way. Clearly his taste seems to differ from Bucky. Steve, though, was a different man. You hadn't known him personally, though you've heard all the stories everyone did growing up and during the time he was alive.

"Fortie's music is great, so- can't say I blame you," you agree, taking Bucky's side. Is it really taking sides if you're just stating your opinion, though? Sam clearly seems to think contrarily as he gives you a glare before turning his pressuring and quizzical look on Bucky.

"I liked it," Bucky states.

"It is a masterpiece, James. Complete. Comprehensive," Zemo pipes up, gesticulating with his hands to emphasize, "it captures the African-American experience." While you're personally not familiar with whatever movie, song, book, or album they're talking about, you can't help but find yourself biting back a smile. Sam's concerned look only adds to your amusement as he shifts his attention back and forth between the two men.

"He's outta line, but he's right. It's great! Everybody loves Marvin Gaye," Sam argues, finally turning an eye on you in question, "right?"

"I like Marvin Gaye," Bucky agrees.

"I... can't say I know Marvin Gaye," you admit embarassedly as your eyes turn toward your lap for a moment.

"Steve adored Marvin Gaye. Wait- what do you mean you don't know Marvin Gaye?! Everybody knows Marvin Gaye!" Sam argues, starting to go off about how Joaquin had to have shown you and how he'll correct that, that is, until Zemo speaks up again.

"You must've really looked up to Steve. But I realized something when I met him--"

"You met him?" The words leave your mouth before you cringe, palm coming up to your face as you remember. You hadn't been involved, but you'd seen the news. You knew what happened with Zemo. "Sorry! Sorry, I-" No one addresses your misstep, as you're sure they all know, or suspect, that it wasn't really your personal business anyways, even if the entire world knew what happened to some degree or another.

"The danger with people like him--America's super soldiers--is that we put them on pedestals," Zemo continues, reciting his line of thought on the subject as he ignores what you'd said, thankfully, and blows right past it.

"Watch your step, Zemo," Sam warns, obviously defensive over one of his closest friends.

"They become symbols, icons... and then we start to forget about their flaws. From there, cities fly, innocent people die, movements are formed, wars are fought. You remember that, right?" Dark eyes turning on Bucky, Zemo clearly is bringing up what happened, what? Almost... nine, ten years ago? Silently counting on your fingers in your seat, you conclude: nine years. It's been nine years since Ultron rose and attempted to overthrow the world. Nines years since the Battle of Sokovia happened. Yes, it's all coming back now.

Zemo. Baron Zemo, royalty of Sokovia, right? There'd been something in the papers, something about how his family had tragically died and that was the reason he blew up the United Nations headquarters. That's what he's talking about. Tuning back in to the conversation, you follow his line of thought.

"As a young soldier sent to Germany to stop a mad icon. Do we want to live in a world full of people like the Red Skull?" Zemo shakes his head, and you can't help but do the same. "That is why we're going to Madripoor."

"What's up with Madripoor? You guys talk about it like it's Skull Island," Sam interjects, Zemo must have said something about it when you were zoned out.

"It's an island nation in the Indonesian archipelago. It was a pirate sanctuary in the 1800s," Bucky explains.

"It's kept its lawless ways, but we cannot exactly walk in as ourselves." The Baron turns his attention on Bucky, "James, you will have to become someone you claim is gone..." with no outward reaction, he turns to you and then Sam. "You two will have a part to play as well."

~~~~~~~~

forever taglist: @ohdamnadam , @safarigirlsp , @jynzandtonic , @moonlightsolo

[skxrbrand]

Prev / The Border Princes

Idonea had picked a hell of a place to hide herself, Sābon would give the Red Sage than much. Tumultuous at the best of times, the presence of a ravening hoard of Khornate daemons only made the riotous land of the Border Princes even moreso. And worse, it had made tracking the sage down a more urgent matter.

Va'rrick was no run of the mill Gore-Daemon, either, but the Lord of the Fifth Host of Murder. He was no Skarbrand, but all the same...not a foe worth sneezing at. Sābon had scarcely forgotten the fates of her two brothers, Freysin and Xogrym, and just thinking of them made her chest ache. How they must've languished in their iron-prisons, mere tools for the terrible whim of the Exile!

Sābon licked the stump of her arm, considering the events of the previous weeks. She had crossed paths with the Bloodthirster not long ago and found her fears of his strength were completely valid. He hadn't emerged unscathed, but in the end, it was Sābon who fled their duel sans a limb. Dogged as any of the Hound's daemons, Va'rrick and his hosts had kept up the chase. It had taken the lives of several beastmen tribes sworn to her father, Malal the Malignancy, to throw him off of her trail. But it was only a matter of time before she was found again and not even the most fervant of the god-touched whiteblack beastkin could stand up against a murder-hungry blood horde.

It was all these things that made the the Whisperer amenable to the newest Chaos Power festering in the realm of mortals. Khade, the Red God, and the true god of blood according to his cultists. She had been intrigued, and perhaps the slightest bit annoyed, at the insistence of his messengers. No matter how many she slew, more sought her ear, goading her to the largest city-state in the southern realms: Myrmidens.

And so she had gone, slinking through the bowels of the man-city at the behest of this so-called god. Sābon had had her doubts...and yet she had been well attended; a cadre of ungors and brays, two of whom she had called her personal champions, flitting over the shingles of house rooftops along with her in the dead of night. She needed no direction, for the spoor of a deity was unmistakable...and set her quills to trembling.

But she would rather face banishment than be called a coward, and so she pushed on, delivering herself into the waiting hands of the Red Cultist set to receive them. She ignored their pleasantries, having little patience for the flattery of mortals. The Red Cultist made their home in the center of the capital, deep beneath the earth, hiding away the madness, their mutations, and their fell felid god.

₪ 𝐀𝐓 𝐋𝐀𝐒𝐓! 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃 𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐄𝐒 𝐔𝐒 𝐖𝐈𝐓𝐇 𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐏𝐑𝐄𝐒𝐄𝐍𝐂𝐄. Khade spoke, pleased beyond words and smug at how the Greater Daemon of Malal seemed to cower ever so slightly in his presence. Sābon's claws were at the ready, having not expected this despite what all of her senses had been warning her of. So, the Red God was real? There was a real being of flesh and blood and power beneath Myrmidens, infecting the life above with it's foulness?

₪ 𝐘𝐄𝐒 𝐂𝐇𝐈𝐋𝐃. Khade spoke again, as if in answer to her silent queries. 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐍𝐎 𝐌𝐘𝐓𝐇. 𝐈 𝐀𝐌 𝐀𝐒 𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐀𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐎𝐖𝐍 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐄 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐀 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐏𝐎𝐒𝐄.

₪ 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐌 𝐍𝐎 𝐃𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐓. 𝐌𝐘 𝐁𝐑𝐎𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑 𝐖𝐀𝐒 𝐍𝐄𝐕𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐒𝐔𝐁𝐓𝐋𝐄𝐓𝐘.

" You speak of the Khorne Lord." Sābon found her voice at last, and it was iron despite her trepidations.

₪ 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄𝐒𝐎𝐌𝐄 𝐂𝐔𝐑. Spat the God-Fractal. 𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐔𝐑𝐒𝐔𝐄𝐒 𝐘𝐎𝐔.

"And you pursue the Red Sage, I presume?" Sābon quirked a brow ridge, " We may share an enemy, but our purposes are opposite. My father requires that shard for his own goals."

₪ 𝐌𝐀𝐋𝐀𝐋'𝐒 𝐆𝐎𝐀𝐋 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐃𝐄𝐀𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐊𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍𝐄. Khade argued, settling back in his throne of skinned wizards, mystics, and seers. 𝐖𝐄 𝐃𝐎 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐃𝐈𝐅𝐅𝐄𝐑 𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒.

Sābon frowned, " I will not go against my Lord's edicts."

₪ 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐈 𝐖𝐈𝐋𝐋 𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐎. 𝐈 𝐁𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐑𝐄𝐌𝐎𝐕𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐍 𝐈𝐍 𝐁𝐎𝐓𝐇 𝐎𝐅 𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐋𝐀𝐍𝐊𝐒.

" The Khorne force is not so large. And the forests are thick with the children of chaos to wear them away."

₪ 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐌𝐀𝐍-𝐁𝐄𝐀𝐒𝐓'𝐒 𝐍𝐔𝐌𝐁𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐙𝐄𝐀𝐋 𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐍𝐎𝐓 𝐁𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐒𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓𝐄𝐃, 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐒 𝐈𝐒 𝐓𝐑𝐔𝐄. 𝐁𝐔𝐓 𝐌𝐘 𝐒𝐄𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐇𝐀𝐕𝐄 𝐃𝐈𝐕𝐈𝐍𝐄𝐃 𝐓𝐑𝐎𝐔𝐁𝐋𝐄 𝐎𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐇𝐎𝐑𝐈𝐙𝐎𝐍 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐔𝐒, 𝐃𝐀𝐔𝐆𝐇𝐓𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐅 𝐒𝐇𝐀𝐃𝐎𝐖. Khade gestured out with a great hand-paw. 𝐌𝐔𝐑𝐃𝐄𝐑 𝐎𝐍 𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐒𝐏𝐄𝐀𝐑, 𝐒𝐇𝐄 𝐂𝐎𝐌𝐄𝐒. 𝐌𝐎𝐑𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐎𝐎𝐃, 𝐓𝐎 𝐉𝐎𝐈𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐀𝐓 𝐖𝐇𝐈𝐂𝐇 𝐈𝐒 𝐀𝐋𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐘 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄. 𝐕𝐀'𝐑𝐑𝐈𝐂𝐊 𝐈𝐒 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐆𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆..

Sābon brow creased. Distrust. Worry. More Khornate Warriors... that was the absolute last thing any of them needed.

₪ 𝐓𝐎𝐃𝐀𝐘, 𝐈 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐀𝐑𝐌 𝐈𝐍 𝐖𝐀𝐑. 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐖𝐇𝐄𝐍 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐕𝐈𝐋𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍𝐒 𝐀𝐑𝐄 𝐒𝐋𝐀𝐈𝐍, 𝐈 𝐎𝐍𝐋𝐘 𝐀𝐒𝐊 𝐘𝐎𝐔 𝐓𝐀𝐊𝐄 𝐀 𝐌𝐄𝐒𝐒𝐀𝐆𝐄 𝐓𝐎 𝐘𝐎𝐔𝐑 𝐅𝐀𝐓𝐇𝐄𝐑.

" That message being?"

Khade only grinned, seeping back into the darkness of the under-city.

₪ 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄, 𝐁𝐀𝐍𝐄𝐒����𝐀𝐖𝐍. 𝐎𝐍𝐄 𝐓𝐇𝐈𝐍𝐆 𝐀𝐓 𝐀 𝐓𝐈𝐌𝐄.

[haradasaya]

WIP WEDNESDAY BABEY

Hello, tis I, Saya, back from hell

It's been entirely too long since I've done one of these, so I figured I'd get back into it with the literal first thing that I've written in ages lmao

DISCLAIMER:

This is a Fantasy AU with Vincent and Lovely as protags — Sam and Darlin are also in it — so is William — and Adam — It is inspired by Swan Lake, and another audio script with a similar theme written by LupinScripts, so please don't come after me if you see similarities lol it was a huge inspiration for me — THIS IS A M/F VERSION BUT I WILL HAVE A M/A VERSION WHEN I RELEASE THE WHOLE FIC ON AO3 —

——— TAG LIST ———

@epsi-l0n @sri-rachaa @halscafe @ashs-stars @palilious

Without Further Adieu, here is Saya's Swan Lake: a Tale of Vincent and Lovely

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Vincent pushed open the doors into the throne room, his monarch seated upon the gold throne of the kingdom of Solaire, his glasses perched low over his nose as he spoke with another noble of their court. Vincent’s shoes clicked in rhythm as he strode towards his king, and when William finally saw him, he ushered away the man he had been speaking to. Vincent stood at attention before his father, hand pressed in a fist over his heart to salute him. 

“William, you called for me?”

The king rose from his throne, stepping down the few stairs before the throne to stand eye to eye with his son. “Ah, my boy. Yes, I did. Would you please take a seat with me at our table?”

Vincent moved towards the chairs at the war table within the throne room, and sat across from William, hesitant about what his monarch would need him for so urgently. “What can I do for you?”

William took off his glasses slowly, setting them on the table in such a way that conveyed his emotion greater than his words. “How have you been lately? Keeping up with your duties I presume?”

Vincent forced a smile, unsure of how that question would relate to whatever his king had summoned him for. “I have been well, sire. Attending to many of the royal inquiries and training with the knights has certainly taken up much of my time and attention.”

“Good, good;” Was all William said, his hand coming to his chin in thought.

“Does something trouble you, my Lord?” Vincent asked, eager to be of help to his Master in any way that he could. 

“No no, nothing troubles me. I simply… well. I believe there is something that we need to speak about.”

Vincent sat forward in his chair. “Go on.”

William sighed. “Well you see, I am growing old in years. I knew that a time would come when I would need to pass the crown onto you, but I had hoped that there would simply be more time. Alas, time does not cease, even for those who would wish it so. I believe now is the time that I must begin preparing you to take on the role to which you have been born, and as such, there are things of you which I require.”

Vincent sat back in his chair, spine completely vertical as he had been taught—because for some reason, Vincent felt as though this conversation was less of a talk from father to son, and more from King to Prince. 

“Given the circumstances of your situation, I feel as though we have been more than patient in grieving with you after your loss: but enough time has now passed that I believe you are ready to begin taking the next steps towards receiving your crown.”

“Please William, speak plainly with me.”

The monarch sighed again, righting himself in his chair and bringing his icy gaze to meet his son’s. “In four days time, I am hosting a ball here in the castle. Of the eligible ladies invited, you are to choose a bride to take the crown with you during your coronation in one week.”

Vincent’s eyes shot wide, his mouth moving to his defense, but William raised his hand to stop him, knowing his son all too well. “This is her family’s will as much as it is my own. Vincent, I know that you loved her dearly, but it is time to let her go. All this grieving has done nothing but drive you away—from me, from your kingdom, and most of all, from your duty. You are still the crown prince of the Solaire Kingdom, and you still have a duty to fulfill.”

“Well, I—” he stuttered, still completely unable to form a thought in reply. Was he really being asked to move on from what had happened like it was nothing? Like the loss of his one true love was something that a measly year could recover? “What if I refuse?” 

“You will not,” was William’s reply, “You will be king, and you will have a queen by your side when you are crowned.”

“Then I do not want the crown!” Vincent said angrily, rising from his chair. “Father, how can you ask such a thing of me?”

His father shook his head, not out of anger but out of another emotion that Vincent couldn’t read. “My son, it does not please me to ask such a thing of you—not when the wounds of your loss are still so deep. When I lost your mother…”

Vincent bit his tongue so hard it bled, the metallic taste in his mouth only adding to the bitterness that he felt. William knew that speaking of his wife and the mother of their child was the quickest way to silencing him, as Vincent had loved her so dearly. When she fell ill, it was as if the whole world had come crumbling down around them both, losing the little light and warmth that was so easily lost in the life of a royal. And now, though Vincent would never speak the words aloud, he despised his father for seeming to use her to make his point.

“Well, as I stated before; time goes on. Duties to your kingdom must be fulfilled and order must still be maintained.”

[pengychan]

[Baldur’s Gate III] Hell to Pay, Ch. 9

Illustration by @raphaels-little-beast

Title: Hell to Pay Summary: Assassinating an archdevil is a daunting task, even for the heroes of Baldur’s Gate. Some inside help from ‘the devil they know’ would be good, if not for the detail their last meeting ended with said devil dead in his own home. Or did it? Characters: Raphael, the Dark Urge, Astarion, Haarlep, Halsin, Karlach, Wyll. Rating: M Status: In progress

All chapters will be tagged as ‘hell to pay’ on my blog. Also on Ao3.

*** Well it took only 50k words but here we are, time to go to Hell. It's probably not going to be smooth sailing from here is it. ***

For the first few weeks in the Hells - in Mephistar, he’d been told, the citadel from which his sire ruled Cania - Raphael read and read and read until he felt as though his eyes would fall out of their sockets. And then he’d read some more. 

Back-- home -- in the Material Plane, he’d thought he’d done a good job at learning all he could about the Nine Hells of Baator. Direct sources from witnesses who returned to tell the tale were admittedly rather scarce, for several good reasons that started and ended with ‘it’s the Hells’, but if any books or scrolls on the subject existed, he’d read them.

He’d learned of the nine layers and their differences, the many kinds of fiends that inhabited them, who ruled each layer. He’d learned of the Lord Below Asmodeus, of the Frozen Prince Levistus, the Iron Duke Dispater and the other Archdukes - including, of course, Mephistopheles. Second to Asmodeus alone, Lord of the Eighth, Archmage of the Hells, Lord of Hellfire.

Raphael had known his many monikers, but he had never in his wildest flights of fancy imagined the Cold Lord of Cania, of all devils, may be his sire.

As it soon turned out, there were many things he did not know. His knowledge of the Hells, which had seemed so impressive, was nothing compared to what he had yet to learn. He’d been shown to his rooms, with a window outside which he could see nothing but icy mountains; he’d been given books, and told to learn. Even what Infernal he had managed to learn back-- I want to go home -- in the Material Plane did not suffice. It was a variant used by lesser baatezu, he’d been informed with a scoff, and unsuited for Mephistopheles’ court. Of course, the variation that was required just so happened to be a great deal harder to master.

A preceptor, a tall and thin devil who looked as though a stiff gust of wind may knock him over and whose name sounded very much like the noise a cat would make while retching, came every day to check on his progress, and answer his questions. Of which Raphael had many, but one above all.

“When will my father see me?”

The answer would always come after a few moments of silence, and with a contemptuous look that told him clearly he should know better than to ask. “Lord Mephistopheles will call upon you when the time is right, little duke,” he said, using a moniker that, Raphael had quickly picked up, was meant more as mockery than as a true honorific. He wasn’t truly a duke of anything.

Still, after a few weeks, he’d tried to protest. “But he gave orders to bring me here. Surely he wants to see me?”

“It is not up to you to presume what Lord Mephistopheles wants. He will make his wishes clear when he--”

“But I’m his son!”

This time, there had been no attempt at feigning respect: his preceptor had just laughed, an unpleasant barking sound. “You’re but one of many whelps. The Lord of the Eighth shall see you when he wishes to. His right to collect what’s his doesn’t entitle you to his time. Now,” he’d added, pushing the open book towards him again before standing to leave, “do keep trying to make yourself worthy of his attention. Your pronunciation of Infernal is still woefully lacking.”

When he left, however, Raphael made no attempt to pick up the book. He huffed and pushed the door of the room open, to wander outside and distract himself from his own building frustration. Despite the howling wind and ice outside as far as the eye could see, the inside of Mephistar was heated, and the luxury all around made Fort Starspire look like a fisherman’s hut by comparison. The carpets, the tapestry, the statues - it was almost dizzying. 

And then there were the portraits. 

There were so many on nearly every wall, and many of them had the same subject - his father, Mephistopheles - but not two of them looked exactly the same because, he’d been informed, his sire could change his visage on a whim and that whim took him often enough. 

Still, there were two portrayals he saw the most. One showed a devil with huge ram-like black horns, the same crimson skin as his own, long black hair, and a pointed beard on his chin. He wore an unnerving smile as he seemed to stare back at him from the painting with dead, white eyes. Most times he was shown holding out a hand, palm up, white-hot flames dancing upon it. The Lord of Hellfire, the plaques beneath such paintings read. 

The other visage of Mephistopheles he saw portrayed the most was the one with blue skin, deep blue horns that looked more like jagged peaks, and pale blue eyes with blood red pupils. The long black hair was the same, but he lacked the beard. In these portraits, he sat upon a throne of ice. The Cold Lord, as the plaques declared.

Both portrayals were terrible and fascinating to behold, and Raphael often struggled to tear his gaze away. Especially from the former, where he’d often find himself looking for familiar features, carefully going over every small resemblance… but not that day. That day, he’d wandered among mostly empty corridors, ignoring both the mortals souls who fretted about - debtors, he’d been told, no need to address them unless you need their services - as well as the curious gazes of devils talking amongst themselves in that strangely melodious version of Infernal he so struggled with. He pretended not to notice the sneers from those who clearly knew who he was, too, even as he felt embarrassment and frustration turn to anger. 

It was all wrong. This was supposed to be his home. He was supposed to belong here, in a way he never did in the Material Plane, and yet it didn’t feel like it at all. 

Why take me here if he won’t see me? 

“It's time to join your kind,” Chamberlain Barbas has said, but Raphael had never felt more out of place, he who'd been out of place from his first breath.

At least they wanted me, in the end, he thought. Something burned in his eyes, and Raphael was quick to shut down that line of thought, because he’d open a window and throw himself off the glacier before he let anyone see him cry. 

Just as he began to think he should head back before he got lost and made a fool of himself, he suddenly heard it - a music he’d never heard before, played by some kind of instrument he’d never heard before in his life. It was a rich sound, now bright and now dark, the music trying to soar like a bird only to be shot down the next moment and flutter onto the ground, the sound now solemn and almost mourning - and then taking flight again, defiant and imperious. 

The closer he grew to the source the more he could feel the power of it, until he could think of nothing but finding out what it was that could make such a sound. Finally, he found the richly decorated double doors of the room the music was coming from, and pushed them open without thinking, just as the music faded.

The room inside was not small by any means, but much of it seemed to be occupied by the largest… something Raphael had ever seen. It looked something like a harpsichord, but much bigger and with pipes that took most of the wall. On the floor and on every surface of the room there were scattered music sheets, and on a seat in front of the instrument, hands still on the keys as the music began to die down, sat the player. Raphael opened his mouth to call out, but the door behind him closed loudly before he could, causing her to wince and turn.

Raphael did not know enough about his own kind to know exactly what they would consider beautiful, but he found she certainly was, with high cheekbones and delicate features, her hair all silver. Her skin was red as his own, her eyes pale green irises on black sclera, and her horns a paler red than the rest of her. She looked young, but… well, most devils did.

“My apologies. I didn’t mean to interrupt,” Raphael said, or at least he tried to, with very little success. Infernal was still clumsy on his tongue, the cadence all wrong, and he didn’t remember what Infernal for ‘interrupting’ even was. All that came out of his mouth was a cacophony of grating noises. He trailed off, biting his tongue, rather thankful he was no longer in his human form. Flushing did not show on crimson skin, at least. 

There was a startled pause, then a chuckle. The devil cocked her head to better look at him, moving the long braid of silvery hair from one shoulder to the other. Finally, she smiled in a way that didn’t seem to hold any of the scorn he’d seen up to that point. 

“Ah, but I have heard about you,” she said in his own language, with only the slightest hint of an accent, and Raphael breathed a little more easily. “The little duke from Tethyr. Don’t you have the most lovely set of horns,” she added, causing Raphael to blink. His horns were not something anybody had ever thought to compliment before; in the Material plane, the fewer people saw them, the better. He was again very, very glad his skin could not visibly flush.

“Thank you,” was all he could muster, feeling rather stupid. Someday not too far in the future he’d be able to let words slide off his tongue like silk on skin, no matter in what language, and the right words at that - but not just yet. Still, he had enough presence of mind to remember he should bow his head and introduce himself. “My name is Isr-- Raphael,” he said, bowing his head. If she noticed the slip, she said nothing of it. “Very much at your service.”

Another chuckle, oddly musical itself, and she turned fully on the seat, hands folded on her lap. She had long, elegant fingers. “I’m very pleased to meet you, Raphael. I am Lady Antilia, High Cantor of Mephistar. Although,” she added with a sigh, turning to glance at the instrument she’d been coaxing notes from. “I may not hold the position for long, if inspiration keeps escaping me.”

“I-- heard the music. I think it was beautiful.”

“Thank you, little duke.” For the first time, the moniker was not spoken like a mockery. “But I fear it is not quite enough. Writing hymns falls to me, and your lord father is a difficult master to please. You certainly have gathered that by now.”

I might have if he bothered to see me, Raphael thought, but he knew better than to voice his thoughts. Instead, he turned his attention to the instrument she had been playing when he let himself in. “What kind of instrument is this?”

“It is an organ. Are you not familiar with it?”

“I have never seen one. I can play the lyre and the lute - the harpsichord, too,” he added. He’d started to get a hang of the violin as well, but he had yet to learn how to get a decent sound out of it, so he didn’t mention that.

Lady Antilia chuckled. “Ah, another musician at long last. Well then, come sit with me,” she said, moving to the side and patting the seat. “May as well learn how to play another instrument, no? If you know how to play the harpsichord, then you’ll be able to play the organ as well in no time.”

He wasn’t supposed to accept: he wasn’t supposed to have left his rooms without finishing the day’s lesson, he knew. Still, he didn’t so much look back at the door: he nodded, thanked Lady Antilia profusely, and went to sit by her. For several hours he listened, mesmerized, as she coaxed music out of the instrument that seemed to fill the room, reverberating in his chest, the high notes and the daker, lower ones. He watched too, the movement of feet on pedals, and fingers running across the keys so effortlessly. Such a delicate touch, and such powerful music. 

He did not learn anymore Infernal that day, but he did learn to play the organ.

***

The irony of the two of them sharing a tent - the devil who used to be a man, and the man who once was a devil - was not at all lost on Wyll. 

It was a little crowded, although probably not as crowded as the other tent they had left, where he suspected Astarion may have ditched the bedroll entirely to lay down on Durge and Halsin. Still, it wasn’t too bad. Raphael was determined to ignore him - seeing his horns seemed to particularly displease him - and that was fine by Wyll, who was happy to settle on his side of the tent and ignore him right back.

Until the devil who was no longer a devil began tossing and turning and muttering in his sleep, of course. Most of the words he uttered were grating noises that he recognized as Infernal, even if he could not catch the words, much less their meaning. It was when the mumbling turned to a low, keening noise that Wyll entirely gave up on the idea of catching some sleep and sat up. 

“Raphael?”

No response, only a choking noise. Wyll frowned and reached over to grip his shoulder and shake him awake. He’d barely touched him when he muttered the first, clear sentence since whatever dream he was trapped in had begun. Or at least as clear as a sentence can be when choked in one’s sleep into the pillow.

“I want to go home.”

Wyll knew that giving him the House of Hope back was entirely out of the question; Karlach was going to have enough issues with their unexpected new companion without adding in the mere idea of putting Hope back in his grasp, which none of them was going to allow in the first place. And he certainly could not understand how anyone could miss the Hells - any layer of the Hells. But desperately wanting to go home… well, that was something he knew more about than he’d have liked.

And he’d dreamed of home too, of course, especially during that first year on his own. He’d missed the familiar sights, his friends, the father who’d so loved him and yet had turned away when he’d seen the mark of the Hells on him. In his dreams he could speak the truth of what happened, he could explain. In his dreams, Ulder Ravengard embraced him, thanked him for saving the city, and welcomed him back as his son. 

But then the dream always, always changed. The smell of sulfur replaced the familiar scents of the city, his father’s embrace turned into an unyielding grip, and Mizora laughed against his ear. Leathery wings enveloped him, blotting out all light, and he’d wake up with a scream in his chest and a lump in his throat. And sometimes, depending on how far he’d allowed himself to sink into the illusion that all was well again, with tears on his face.

Another muffled noise from the man who was a devil no longer snapped Wyll from his recollections. He sighed, waved goodbye to any chance to go back to sleep, and grasped Raphael’s shoulder.

“All right, you had enough sleep. Wake up.”

“Wha--?”

It took Raphael a few moments to regain the bearings of his surroundings. Wyll sat back and waited as he did, pretending not to notice the quick gesture with which he wiped his face on a sleeve, and grinned as soon as he turned to scowl at him. 

“What, pray tell, was that supposed to be about?” Raphael snapped, only to blink when Wyll held out a rapier for him to take. He raised an eyebrow. “If this is an invitation to skewer you with it, I shall be happy to oblige after you have held your half of the bargain and--”

“Get up. We’re having a sparring match.”

“... Surely you jest.”

“It always takes my mind off things.”

“I am beginning to question whether you have a mind to take off anything.”

“We’ll be heading into the city come morning, and then it’s straight to Avernus,” Wyll reminded him. They had arrived in Rivington in the middle of the night, and had agreed to get a few hours’ rest before heading to Devil’s Fee as soon as the sun rose and the shop opened; Astarion would wear a cape and hood for the remainder of the way, and they’d keep to the shade for good measure.

Wyll wished he could spare the time to visit his father, or see for himself how the rebuilding was going, but it would have to wait. Now the thing he was most eager to do was get back to the House of Hope and see Karlach again; he only hoped she hadn’t keeled over and died of sheer boredom in the time it had taken him to gather their available allies and come back.

Unaware of his thoughts, Raphael scoffed. “All the more reason to let me rest,” he bit, as though he was having any good rest at all. Wyll shrugged. 

“Surely, you want to be ready to fight your way through it with us, no? One more chance to practice is not something you should let pass by. Go on, take the rapier.”

“I can fight well enough without the aid of toothpicks . I’m a spellcaster. I have no need--”

“Well, this kind of toothpick is always useful. Even when you’ve run out of energy for spells, it still works to skewer the opponent. You should take at least a dagger. Even Durge carries a shortsword, and they’re the finest sorcerer I’ve ever met.”

“You haven’t met many sorcerers, I see.”

Wyll raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that downplaying the power of the one who bested you reflects well on you?”

“They hardly bested me alone,” Raphael snapped, but he did snatch the rapier and got out of the tent with a huff. “... Very well. If you insist on sparring, we shall.”

Wyll sighed, and followed him outside. There was probably little more than an hour left until dawn, so at least he got some rest. He could tell from Raphael’s grip on the rapier alone that the sparring would do little to help him fight - he was really much better off relying on spells - but it was a way to pass the time, he supposed. 

Plus, watching him fumble with a rapier while trying to look like he knew what he was doing was a lot more entertaining than listening to him crying out in his sleep.

***

Dalah knew that the-- thing was there before she even turned from the already perfectly clean artifact she was dusting. There was the noise of course, the crackling of flames and scraping of claws on ice, the oddly mechanical clicking and chirring noises it made as it stalked the hallways of Mephistopheles’ vault. 

Except that now it-- he was not not stalking the vault’s rooms. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him standing by the doorway, staring at her with entirely too many eyes set deeply in the fused misshapen skulls. He followed no one in particular, as far as she could tell - he was there to guard, and guard he did - but whenever he came across her, he did come to a stop. Even if she hadn’t called that name again-- Israfel -- he still paused to look at her, as he was doing now.

He made no noise other than the fierce crackling of the flames that shrouded him, the occasional clicking and skittering of claws on the ice floor as he shifted, as though craning his neck to see what she was going - cleaning, what else? - without getting too close.

Dalah paused for a moment, looked around to make sure they were alone, and turned slowly. He was still a vision of horror, but knowing she could stop him by just speaking his name had made the terror fade. “You can’t talk at all, can you?”

The creature looked back, with those fixed and thoughtless eyes, and-- wait. Was it her, or - had that been a shake of its heads? Dalah stilled, staring, before she wet her lips with a nervous tongue and tried to address him again. “Can you understand me at all? Can you… do something, if you understand?”

A long pause, long enough to make her feel foolish, then the creature seemed to nod, chittering and clicking without so much moving his gaping maws. He crouched and a flaming, clawed hand raked across ice, leaving deep marks on the icy floor; the ice magically began to freeze again within moments, erasing them, but the message was clear. It was too slow a gesture, too deliberate, to be an accident. Do something, and he did. 

He understood. How much he understood was debatable - it may be very little - but despite Barbas’ boasts of having turned the devilish half of Raphael’s soul into a mindless, perfect machine made to think of nothing but maiming trespassers and thieves, it was obvious that something else was still there. Something intelligent. Something that could respond . 

Her work entirely forgotten, Dalah dared step closer. “... I’m sorry if hearing that name hurt,” she heard herself saying. “Was it… did Rahirek call you that? Did he keep you?”

A chirring noise, and the creature seemed to nod before he lowered a claw to the icy floor once again. This time, he used only one claw to crudely carve something in it. A line, then more intersecting lines at the very top, like… like…

The spire. The star. Her husband’s family crest - she had almost forgotten what she looked like, after so many centuries. But she recalled it now, on his armor the day he’d left and on the brooch he’d gifted her on their wedding day, when they were but two strangers thrown together by his widowhood and her father’s political calculations. Starspire, after the mountains that towered above Rahirek’s ancestral home.

She had loved those mountains since the moment she’d laid her eyes on them: they reminded her of the Storm Horn Mountains back home, in the land that would one day become Cormyr. As soon as she’d arrived, before she’d learned to love her new husband in that quiet, desperate way that would be her undoing, they had made her feel at home again.

“We always pretended they’re named after our family, but it’s the other way around,” he told her with a chuckle on their wedding night. He did not touch her, then. He never would touch her, not that way, until months later when she reached out for him first, and found him willing.

Dalah’s eyes burned, and she wiped them quickly as the drawing faded. “... I should have known he would. He was a good man,” she murmured, and looked up again. The creature-- Israfel -- kept staring at her, heads tilted. She drew in a shaky breath. “... Do you know who I am?”

A chittering sound, and a shake of those heads, flames dancing as it moved.

She managed a weak smile. “No, you wouldn’t. We only met once, so to speak. But you were tiny, then. I saw you from afar when they took you here, though, a few times. You were taller than me already, I think. I am not sure, I didn’t want to look at you. We never--”

“What do you think you’re doing?”

Dalah recoiled and stepped back to see a devil - one of the cambions who kept an eye on the debtors cleaning the vault, as if any of them would dare steal, as if an ascended fiend wasn’t enough of an incentive to do their work quietly and quickly - stepping closer, a scowl on his face. He paid no mind to Israfel, and why would he? Barbas had been clear, he had been conditioned to obey the guards. He would not intervene if not by his order. “I was just--” 

The guard scoffed, walking up to her, and raised a flail as if to strike her. “You’ll go back to work now, if you know what’s--”

He never got to finish the sentence. A shrieking mountain of fire, claws and sharp thorns of black bone was on him the next moment; the devil had no time to force out a scream, or even to fully turn. There was no fight, and all was over the second it began, flesh torn apart by claws, throat ripped out by tusks. Steaming dead flesh and guts littered the ground, all that remained of a devil, but that was not there for long either. Fiends had no need to eat, but they had appetites all the same - and this one was no exception. 

Within what felt like less than a minute, nothing remained of the guard but a pool of blood watered down by melted ice, and flail burnt to a crisp. Only then did Israfel turn to look at her, bloody jaws clacking and wings fluttering a moment, hesitating as his flames dulled. 

She could see why: he’d broken protocol and there would be punishment, surely, when they found out what he had done. 

If they find out. 

“... Get that blood off your face-- faces. I’ll hide this,” Dalah heard herself saying, walking up to the bloody pool and causing Israfel to step back, claws clicking on the ice. Mopping up the bloody water was painfully cold on her hands, but once that was done and the ice reformed, no trace of blood remained. The flail broke apart into ash the moment it was touched, and once she scooped that up… well, no one could tell anything had happened there.

Low level guards did defect, sometimes. Not unheard of. As long as nothing was missing in the vault, they would look for him outside Mephistar, and not too hard. Dalah breathed out, and turned. Israfel was still staring at her, head tilted as though waiting for something. When she met his eyes, he made more clacking, echoing sounds.

“Won’t tell if you don’t,” Dalah said, and found herself smiling faintly as she looked down at the pulverized remains of the guard had lifted against her. She had spent a long time knowing she ought to fear every devil, no matter how low-ranking, for any of them could end her on a whim. One powerful enough strike and what remained of her would be lost, bursting into blood and guts to let out some sort of hellish creature. 

To see one who’d so much threatened to harm her annihilated in instants had felt… good. Even if somewhere, in the back of her mind, she wondered whose son that cambion had been, what mortal had died to give him life. Some, she knew, did so willingly. 

“... Thank you. Now go, before someone notices you’re no longer patrolling.”

Israfel hesitated, but there were steps and he did not wait to see if it was another guard or a debtor. One last look and it left the room, through icy corridors, ever patrolling - his presence alone enough to strike terror into every soul bound to endlessly cleaning the vault and its contents.

Almost every soul.

Only later would Dalah pause and realize that, when he turned to her with his victim’s blood still dropping from his jaws, she had not for a single instant felt fear.

***

“Give me a good reason why I should open any portal for you.”

“What do you mean by that?” Astarion’s voice was full of indignation. “We’re going to pay you, is that not reason enough?”

Standing behind the counter, Helsik scoffed. “You were also supposed to pay me last time, if you recall, with the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength you took from the House of Hope.”

“Were they now?” Raphael asked, arms crossed. Of course, he didn’t look like himself now: revealing his continued survival to a warlock of Mammon liable to immediately relay the information to anyone who may care for the right amount of coin would be, to put it mildly, sheer idiocy. A simple disguise spell had turned him into an unremarkable enough half-elf, and thank the gods Helsik seemed none the wiser. “I may have heard of those gauntlets. Extremely rare indeed. And what, pray tell,” he added, shooting a pointed look in Durge’s general direction, “has happened to those?”

Fervently hoping Raphael would shut his damn mouth before he gave the rouse away, Durge shifted a little. To be entirely honest, keeping them had been Astarion’s idea, but… well, they hadn’t protested too much, either. “It’s, you see, we figured we may put them to good use, they fit Karlach really well--”

“So they broke our deal,” Helsik spoke, her own arms crossed, and looked back at Totally Not Raphael, who was still glaring at Durge. She seemed glad to have found someone who sounded as outraged as she did. “They went ‘I just killed a devil, do you really want to argue’ at me, and just kept the payment for my services. Can you believe it?”

“I can, actually. They rather make a habit of it, I see,” he replied, his voice flat in a way that clearly suggested he had carnage on his mind, and was really quite cross that he could not enact it. He seemed about to add something else, but Astarion suddenly threw his arm around his shoulders with a laugh, cutting him off. 

He also stomped on his foot, discreetly but hard, causing him to yelp. 

“Yes, yes, it was very naughty of us, and we’re sincerely sorry.”

Helsik narrowed her eyes. “Does that mean you’re giving me the gauntlets?”

“Oh dear, we’d love to! But, they’re currently with our friend in Avernus,” he added, gesturing rather meaningfully towards the floor. “See, if you open us a portal, we can retrieve them…”

“Try again.”

“Hey now--”

“It’s an upfront payment. Forty thousand.”

“FORTY--”

“Twenty thousand for the portal I opened last time, and twenty thousand for this one.”

“We need you to open two portals this ti--”

“That will be sixty thousand, then. Upfront.”

Astarion let out a noise of pure distress. “You can’t be serious!” he protested, only for Helsik to raise an eyebrow. 

“Do I look like I’m joking to you?” she asked. She did not, in fact, look like she was joking. 

Astarion scoffed, obviously scandalized at the notion the diabolist would demand upfront payment for her services to someone who scammed her once before, and turned to the others. Before he could voice what would probably be his suggestion - ‘let me drain her a bit and see if it mellows her’, Durge suspected - Raphael stepped forward. 

“I do understand why you’d mistrust these miscreants, as they already took advantage of your services without paying their due,” he said, gesturing towards them. “However, I hope you can extend me some grace, as I have done no such thing. I have a proposal.”

“I will hear you out, nothing more. And you are…?”

“Israfel will suffice. I’d rather not disclose my business in the Hells, as I’m sure you understand. It will not matter either way. Once I’m there, the two of us will never have laid eyes on each other, as you will have had no part in getting me there.”

Helsik nodded curtly, arms still crossed. “Good to see you know the rules,” she said, “but I have yet to hear your proposal.”

Raphael nodded. “Of course. The gold we have at our disposal to pay is, in total, thirty thousand gold. It is enough to cover the debt for the services you provided last time but, I understand, not enough to open a second portal now. Let alone a third.”

“Sound math. Still waiting for the proposal.”

Clearly disappointed by the refusal to play along, Raphel sighed. “As direct as your patron, I see. Very well. While these-- people owe you a great deal for your services, I believe you’re overlooking something that comes quite close to canceling out that debt.”

Helsik’s eyebrows went up almost to her hairline. “Oh,” she droned. “Am I now?”

“Indeed. You did not ask to be indebted, yet indebted your are.”

A scoff. “And what, exactly, do I owe them?”

A smile, and Raphael leaned against the counter, turning to gesture at the collection of artifacts all around them. “Why, isn’t that obvious? The continued existence of this fine establishment of yours, of course. The reason for their previous visit to Avernus was the retrieval of an artifact which, as it happens, was vital to their goal of taking down the Netherbrain. Had they not succeeded in the endeavor-- well. Baldur’s Gate would be no more, along with much of the Sword Coast, and your establishment with it. Of course, you could have set up shop someplace else if you managed to escape - but how many of these treasures around us would have been lost? I am certain you have a very good idea of what the answer would be. The answer, and the cost.”

For a few moments, Helsik said nothing. She ran her gaze across the shop, obviously running the numbers in her mind, then turned that gaze on Durge. A frown, but not quite the glare they had given them before. In the end, slowly, she nodded and turned back to Raphael. 

“... Very well. Duly noted. Your proposal?”

Raphael smiled. “My proposal is, we hand over all of the thirty thousand gold in our possession for you to open a portal to Avernus, and as payment for services rendered previously,” he said. “I do understand this means a significant discount on your usual rates, but it would be thirty thousand gold more than you’d get otherwise. And, I believe, it does account for the role they unwittingly played in keeping the Devil’s Fee in business.”

“Hmm.” Helsik seemed to think it over, and glanced past Raphael. Astarion smiled, and held up two bulging sacks of gold; she stared at them a few moments before nodding and turning back to Raphael. “You said you need two portals opened. I will not do it for thirty thousand gold.”

“But, for thirty thousand gold and the gauntlets you’re owed?” Raphael countered, smiling. “If we don’t survive our little vacation in the First, you’ll be thirty thousand gold richer. If we do survive, we will come back and hand you over the Gauntlets of Hill Giant Strength currently in the possession of our dear friend trapped in Avernus.”

There was a sound much like a barely restrained laugh from Wyll, and Durge almost chuckled himself. Karlach would not be pleased to hear Raphael, of all beings, had referred to her as a ‘dear friend’. She wouldn’t be happy to see him at all, most likely, and much less to learn she’d have to bear his presence until they either died or completed their mission. She’d have many good reasons to be displeased, of course… but needs must when the devil drives. 

Quite literally, in that instance.

Unaware of their thoughts, Helsik was nodding. “I see. If you come back, and hand me the gauntlets you promised, only then will I open the second portal for you. It makes sense.”

Raphael’s borrowed face opened in a smile. “I knew you’d see reason.”

“And where would this second portal need to lead?”

“Cania. Mephistar, to be precise.”

“Ugh, again?” A sigh, a shake of the head. “I’m afraid I can’t help you. Since the gentleman over there and the late Lord Gortash raided the vault, Lord Mephistopheles has upped the magical defenses. I have been trying to find a way around them for months, but so far I’ve had no success. I cannot open a portal anywhere in Cania as of now.”

For a moment, the features of Raphael’s borrowed face twisted in aggravation; it was almost funny, really, how even in this disguise he scrunched up his nose. Then, as quickly as anger had come, it faded. “... Well then, we shall content ourselves with the closest you can get us to it. The second portal will be to Maladomini.”

Helsik raised an eyebrow. Hard to tell whether she was impressed by the boldness, or unimpressed by the madness on display. “Lord Mephistopheles and Lord Baalzebul are hardly allies. You really think you can sneak from the Seventh to the Eight and keep your life?”

“My friend,” Raphael said, smiling, “I cannot possibly overstate how little I have left to lose.”

Another pause and, finally, a shrug. “Hmm. None of it is my business as long as I’m getting paid, so-- very well. Avernus first and, if you live and give me the gauntlets, Maladomini it is. I’ll go fetch the necessary items. You wait here - but first, the gold.”

“Half the gold now,” Raphael countered. “And half once you hand over the items we need.”

“Distrustful, aren’t you?”

“You shan’t take it personally, I hope. You may consider it practice for the Hells.”

“With the company you keep, you have reason to be distrustful in any plane.”

“I am well aware, believe me.”

The first half of her payment taken, Helsik disappeared in the basement. As soon as she was gone, Wyll let out a low whistle. “All right,” he conceded, “that was really good.”

Raphael scoffed, walking away from the counter and right past him. “It was a child’s play. But I had no doubt it would impress you.”

“... Still mad because I knocked the rapier from your hand thrice this morning, huh?”

“Don’t be absurd. As I believe I made plain, I don’t need to carry a toothpick in bat--” Raphael began, only to trail off suddenly, freezing mid-step. He was staring at something on a table, and it took Durge only a moment to see exactly what it was.

The Orb of Infernal Envisioning. Last they had gazed into it, Durge had seen Raphael himself, covered in blood, dangling above Mephistopheles’ maw. Now, however, they saw something else. It was still Raphael in the Orb, or at least his ascended form, wreathed in flames, standing amidst walls of ice. It towered above a human woman who stared up at it, making no move to run. On the contrary, she was reaching up, as though to touch the creature.

“What is it?” Astarion spoke up somewhere on their left. “I can’t see anything in it. Halsin?”

“Not a thing.”

“I see Mizora,” Wyll said, stepping closer. “She’s holding some kind of contract, and… bowing? There is someone else there, but it’s just a shadow. I can’t see their face… are you seeing this too?” he asked, only for Raphael to ignore him and Durge to shake their head.

The Orb shows you what is fitting for you to see, Helsik had said once. It seemed they were not all seeing the same thing, after all - even those among them who could see something in it. Durge frowned, and looked back at Raphael. “... I see your Ascended form, and a woman. Inside Mephistar’s vault, I believe. A debtor, perhaps. Is that what you see?”

Wordless for once, eyes fixed on the orb, Raphael nodded. The two of them, it seemed, were indeed seeing the same thing. “I… have seen that mortal before. It’s the debtor who helped me escape,” he murmured. Slowly, he lifted a hand towards the orb, as if to touch it… and then there was the sound of a trapdoor to the basement being pushed open. Raphael pulled his hand back as though burned, and they all turned to see Helsik was back, a bag in hand. 

“Here’s all that is needed, and you know your way upstairs. Remember, you have never been here. Now hand over the rest of the gold, and scram.”

Gold changed hands, despite Astarion’s slightly pained expression, and Durge took the bag. “Before we go, we could use some supplies,” they said, and held up their bag of holding. Collecting just about anything they came across in their travels did pay off; by the time they were done trading, they were… reasonably well-equipped to survive Avernus. Hopefully. They closed the bag, and nodded towards the stairs. “All right,” they said. “Time to go to Hell.”

“Not a moment too soon,” Raphael muttered, and headed upstairs first without another word, a stiffness in his back that wasn’t there before.

*** If you're wondering who Antilia is:

*** [Back to Chapter 8]

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[acourtoffaeandfanfic]

A Court of Flames and Sorrow || Eris Vanserra || Prologue

Synopsis: Lynette Vesper. Daughter of Winter and Night. Lover of a problematic red head who used to be engaged to her best friend.

Series Masterlist

***

Lynette could feel it in the air, feel it in her gut, feel it in her bones, something was going to happen that required her attention, and it was going to happen soon. That feeling is what caused her to pace the floor of her room in the Mountain Home of the Winter Court. There on official duties of the Night Court, to help repair connections after what had happened Under the Mountain. She was deemed the best person to attempt it, not only due to her being emissary of the Night Court but also being Kallias’ cousin. Her mother being Kallias’ aunt, having met her father while he was on official Night Court emissary business. A title that he had happily passed down to his daughter after Rhysand became High Lord, he had grown tired of the job for a while, just wanting to stay at home with his mate and daughter but feared what the previous High Lord would do if he were to find out. 

Her emissary duties were the last thing on her mind though at the moment. Feeling like she was needed elsewhere. She felt a gentle but persistent tug towards the Autumn Court border. Something was wrong, she knew it. Her suspicions were answered when a piece of paper suddenly appeared in front of her. Get to the border, your High Lady is in trouble. That note was all that was needed for Lyn to winnow to the border. She had not gotten the chance to meet her High Lady yet so this was gonna be one hell of an entrance. 

She winnowed right in front of them, Feyre and a red haired man with a scar running down his face raced past her, her own light blonde hair blowing behind her in the icy breeze as she noticed what they were running from. Vanserra brothers, oh how she hated them. Nothing good came from that family. The eldest one had started to melt one of the frozen lakes. A red hot streak underneath the ice racing right towards her, ready to dunk her into the frozen depths beneath. Her own powers roared to life as her hand made contact with the ice just as the flames were about to consume the ice where she stood. An unamused look graced her features, tired of having to deal with these High Fae men who acted like children, children wielding fiery instruments. 

“What does a woman gotta do around here to get some peace and quiet? Men, you ruin everything!” Lynette said with her arms hugged into her body, silently regretting the thin sweater that adorned her body, the fleece lined leggings only doing so much to preserve warmth. 

“We’re not here for you Lyn, go run back to Kallias.” The one in the middle said with a sneer. How could she forget the Master of Sneering. The Vanserra brother she had the least amount of tolerance for. Eris. As snarky as ever. Apparently 50 years Under the Mountain didn’t teach him any manners. She might be the Night Courts emissary but she avoided the Autumn Court like the plague, and for good reason too. Those Autumn Court men just didn’t understand when to leave a woman alone. 

“I don’t think I will” and just like that the icy wind picked up but in the opposite direction it had been going, it was now roaring towards the three Vanserra brother who took that as a challenge to approach her, the ones on each side of Eris had started to shivering and chattering their teeth as they followed their eldest brother. 

Lynette looked over her shoulder quickly to make sure that Feyre and who she assumed to be Lucien made their way across the frozen lake. That look cost her a blow to the stomach as turned to see Eris in her face as he tackled her to the ground as the other two went after Feyre and Lucien. She summoned her icy winds again to push the fiery male off her. He had been moved three feet when he started to fight against the wind and regain his balance. She could see the flames ignite in his eyes as she started to feel the ice beneath her melt, making her jump to her feet and hurtle herself in his direction. Winnow, hit. Winnow, wind. The little game went on until he had memorized her rhythm and restrained her with thin ropes of flame dancing around her wrists and neck, the heat lapping at her skin softly enough to turn it a shade of pink but not enough to burn her. 

Eris walked past her, not thinking that she’d be a distraction any longer. That was until darkness settled around him and him alone, the icy wind battering at him from each direction. She was holding him in her own power prison, just like he had done to her. Just long enough for the two Illyrian warriors to land and deal with the other two nuisances attacking Feyre and Lucien. Lynette dropped her night prison away from Eris and then focused her energy on her flame encased wrists as he dropped to the ground shivering. The flames flickered then died out as a wave of ice washed over her hands, pink marks still remained on her wrists though. 

From the corner of her eye she could see two red haired creatures being tossed to the side by Cassian and Azriel. Both having taken a beating from the Illyrian warriors. Eris still remained in his spot though, 5 feet behind her, shivering on the ice, trying to reclaim some warmth before he dared move.

“What do we do with this one?” Cassian asked as he slowly made his way across the frozen lake, glaring down at Eris. The most hated Vanserra of the Court of Dreams, no one forgot what he had done to their dear friend, Mor. A gleam in Cassian’s eyes at the thought of getting revenge for Mor, Azriel not too far behind.

“Stop,” Feyre commanded.

The High Lady looked around her carefully. Familiar faces surrounded her for the most part but slight confusion was etched into her face when her eyes landed on Lynette. Feyre looked back down at the Vanserra brothers who had hunted her down. “You all deserve to die for this. And for much, much more. But I am going to spare your miserable lives.” 

Eris sneered at her words, Cassian snarling at him in warning to not test Feyre’s generosity. 

Feyre’s glamour dropped and there on her arm appeared a tattoo of swirls and whorls of ink. 

“I am High Lady of the Night Court” she announced. 

The brothers on the ground paled and looked up wide eyed. A brave one had the nerve to say, “There’s no such thing as a High Lady.”

Feyre just smirked at him. “There is now.”

Cassian straightened up a bit more, beaming with pride over his High Lady. 

Feyre’s eyes passed over the scene in front of her one more time until she locked onto Lynette once again with a confused look. Cassian seemed to notice this and cleared his throat. “May I introduce Lynette Vesper, emissary of the Night Court and Kallias’ cousin. She is here on official business.” Cassian shifted uncomfortably, unsure about how much he should be revealing when enemies were still there. 

Feyre gave a slight nod of approval. “Will you be joining us for the trip back?”

“No, my lady. I must first tell Kallias that I must be going. He’d be quite saddened if I left without a proper goodbye. I will be back at court tomorrow.” 

The High Lady nodded once more then turned to Cassian, “Take me home.” Then to Azriel, “Take us both home.” Looking down at the Autumn Court men one last time she said, “We’ll see you on the battlefield.” 

***

Lynette watched as they crossed back over the border, waiting for them to get far enough before she decided to winnow back to her room. Two of the brothers at least a quarter of a mile ahead of Eris. He didn’t look too good when he passed by her, still shivering and from the look of it trying to cure the frostbite she had given him. But the cold did not seem to take away his permanent sneer, especially as he turned around while still walking. “See you again soon, little lynx.” And with a mocking bow he had vanished. 

She winnowed back to her room. Sitting on top of the plush dark blue comforter. Looking down at her wrists again, the marks left from the flame restraints were fast fading. Running her hands over them all Lyn could think of was the small deep tug, pulling her back to the border. The tug that wanted her to go back to him, the tug that she would ignore out of respect for her best friend, the tug that she refused to put a name on.

[acourtofthought]

Elain's Character:

“Will—will many of these soldiers die?”

“No matter what, don’t kill him. Please.”

But Elain had given it back—had pressed it into Azriel’s hands after the battle, just as he had pressed it into hers before. And then walked away without looking back.

And he knew the cruelty of the Hewn City troubled her.

..................................................................................

Azriel's Character:

What we did to the Attor wasn’t pretty.”

Az looked over his shoulder. The Attor had given him everything. Now it was just babbling to buy time. I pushed off the wall. “Break its legs, shred its wings, and dump it off the coast of Hybern. See if it survives.”

The Attor was already screaming beneath Truth-Teller’s honed edge when I left the cell.

The next, he’d blasted through Eris’s shield with a flare of blue light and tackled him backward, wood shattering beneath them.

Azriel dug his knee—and all his weight—into Eris’s gut. He was silent, utterly silent as he ripped the air from Eris’s body.

I held his gaze, though. Held that ice-cold stare that still sometimes scared the shit out of me. I’d seen what he’d done to his half brothers centuries ago. Still dreamed of it. The act itself wasn’t what lingered. Every bit of it had been deserved. Every damn bit. But it was the frozen precipice that Az had plummeted into that sometimes rose from the pit of my memory.

Azriel only said coldly, “If Lucien kills Graysen, then good riddance.”

Had been ready to challenge both Beron and Eris to Blood Duels and kill them both.

“I’ll defeat him with little effort.” Pure arrogance laced every word, but it was true.

Elain tries to be part of the Night Court but cruelty STILL BOTHERS her. They are discussing the Hewn City but torturing people, beating people up, gloating over being able to kill others, that falls under cruelty.

Killing a character because they are about to kill someone you love is one thing (as Elain did with the King), self defense too, but actually instigating and enjoying aggression against another is completely different.

I don't understand how this is so easily overlooked by anti's. She's trying to belong and make a home for herself sure. We haven't seen all she has to offer, sure. But how are we just explaining away the fact that cruelty bothers Elain but she'll magically be 100% ok with how much Az often talks about being fine with the deaths of those he doesn't deem worthy? How his job is the literal definition of cruel punishment?

Elain is a loving, understanding and caring person but people really want her to have to set aside her personal feelings about brutality for the rest of her life so she can end up with Az? They really want her to sacrifice what makes up a core part of her?

Everyone Lucien has had to harm has been in self defense. He killed one of his brothers because they had come into Spring to kill him first. Despite the fact that he struggles with the instincts of the mating bond he still has never gone and threatened or harmed Graysen.

...............................................................................

Lucien's Character:

“The bloodshed that would be required to earn that crown wouldn’t be worth it.

Well, I never want to fight in another battle as long as I live, but … yes, I’m in one piece.”

Lucien had encountered him, I realized. Somehow, in living with Jurian and Vassa at that manor, he’d run into Elain’s former betrothed. And managed to leave the human lord breathing.

The male had grown up alongside Eris. Had dealt with Eris’s and Beron’s cruelty. Had his lover slaughtered by his own father. But Lucien had learned to keep his cool.

Even when the instincts of the mating bond try to take over, Lucien fights like Hell against them because that's not who he wants to be. The bond (something which we know can mess with even the strongest of High Lords) tries to force a violent reaction out of him yet he refuses to give in.

"An uncontrollable instinct—for a mate to eliminate any threat. But he remained sitting. Even as his fingers dug into the arms of his chair."

He does not want to resort to violence.

I sent just the character quotes from above to friends of mine who have no vested interest in the series, whatsoever. They've never read it or heard me talk of it. This was their responses:

"Blue guy is violent, so I don't think that would fit her."

(and I just realized I accidentally cut off a third of Luciens quotes 😂. They would have further solidified his disinterest in violence).

The second friend:

I could have sent them the cute moments between Az and Elain but those don't really matter. There were cute moments between Feyre and Tamlin too. I'm sure if I had sent those, they would have assumed Feyre and Tamlin would have ended up together. You can have cute moments anytime you interact with someone you have a crush on. That's not what makes for a lasting relationship though.

What matters is that two people have similar goals, similar beliefs, and support one another as they grow.

Two nature loving individuals who have similar beliefs on how they want to live their lives and who both think things through rather than acting on impulse in an aggressive way sound like a much better match to me than whatever E/riel would be.

[spell-cleaver]

No. 19 ENOUGH IS ENOUGH Knees Buckling | Repeatedly Passing Out | Head Lolling

Read it instead on AO3 or on FFN!

“And you, young Skywalker?” Palpatine asked him kindly. “What do you think of Lord Vader’s new motion to destroy your Rebellion?”

Luke, handcuffed to the table in the meeting room he’d been dragged to, gave the Emperor of the galaxy the most withering look he could muster. “I think it sucks.”

His father made a noise that might have been a snort. Luke turned that look on him as well. Just because he’d come to accept their blood relationship—and there was no other choice, having been scooped up on a random mission, flown straight to Coruscant, and given the worst news possible—doesn’t mean he exempted him from any of this.

Palpatine continued, fully turning away from Vader and looking down at Luke. It really wasn’t fair that in a room clearly designed for people to sit around a table, Luke was the only one sitting. “And yet I’m sure you understand its efficacy. With the Rebels so clearly concentrated in Bothan space, striking at the key planets he listed to find the Rebel base is a solid plan.”

“Why am I here?” Luke demanded. “You don’t want me to hear all of this. I’m a Rebel.”

“Your reactions are certainly telling.”

“They’re not useful unless you’re right.”

“Luke, there is no need for hysteria,” his father informed him. “You should be here. It is important to see how the Empire is run.”

“Why? I’m sure as hell not gonna help it run any smoother.”

“One day.” Palpatine patted him on the head. “You will. A year and a half with the Rebellion may have ruined your mind, but we will claim it back.”

Luke glared. “You want to talk about who ruined my mind?”

“I must concede that you are right, however. Simply observing your reactions to our intelligence is only useful if we hit information both true and dangerous. Its use is limited.” Palpatine glanced at Vader, who nodded in response. “But your use is infinite. As it is now.”

“Don’t you dare—”

Luke cut himself off with a strangled cry. The fingers that pushed into his mind were cold enough that he felt every one, like they were trailing frost down his back. He piled up what rudimentary shields he could afford and wished that Ben had bothered to teach him this.

They were enough, thank the stars. When he opened his eyes, he was breathing hard, leaning on the table with both hands. His chair lay behind him, kicked over in his struggle. He glared at Palpatine—at his father, who watched this happen and allowed it.

“Get out of my head!”

“Our presence in your mind is necessary, Luke,” Vader informed him. “You cannot shield yourself and you continue to refuse to learn.”

“I won’t learn from you.”

“Then you require our protection,” Palpatine insisted. “The galaxy can be so loud for someone with so much raw power.”

Luke shook his head. “Stop it,” he said weakly.

Palpatine sighed. “Far be it from be to intrude. I shall retreat. Your natural shields, though crass and untrained, are enough to hinder us. Perhaps you can protect yourself on instinct, this time?” The this time was just mocking. They had been here before. “Lord Vader, let go of your son’s mind.”

“Master—”

“He must learn.”

Luke’s knees buckled underneath him when Coruscant crashed in.

Numbers were cold, distant, and unfathomable. He hadn’t even known how to pronounce Coruscant when he joined the Rebellion: school called it Imperial Centre, and he’d only ever seen the real name written down. He still accidentally said Coruskant sometimes, which Palpatine had certainly mocked him for. When he’d joined the Rebels, he definitely hadn’t known what population: one trillion was meant to mean.

What it would mean for him.

It was the heart of the Empire, but so many Rebel missions ran here. It was the place to disappear, Leia had told him once. Whenever she’d tried to escape the authorities, she just went down several levels and was lost in the din. Policing that many people was impossible. The air traffic was a free for all, and only got strict if you tried to fly close to the important government buildings. It was, paradoxically, one of the safest places for a Rebel to be assigned.

No one could find you amidst all this noise. Luke couldn’t find himself.

His mind didn’t even know how to fathom this vast input from an unpractised sense. He could hear oil bubbling in a speeder tank a hundred levels below him. It was that he fixated on, until the bubbling grew louder, became a shriek, and he realised his head was ringing.

He opened his eyes on the floor. Pain dissected his scalp: he’d hit his head in the fall. Hot blood pumped out of his nose, his ears. Distantly, he lifted a hand to touch it. Now that the input had ceased, it seemed almost devoid of colour.

“Ah, I see,” Palpatine said. His oily presence slunk around Luke’s mind. The loudness of Coruscant tried to trickle through, but he was holding it back. Barely. Threateningly. “A scan of Bothan Space would be useless. They aren’t on a planet. They have allies on Bothawui’s rings that stock their carrier ship.”

“I don’t know,” Luke said to the ceiling uselessly. “I’m not assigned to Bothan Space.”

“You are Commander Skywalker of Rogue Squadron,” Palpatine said. “You have doubtlessly flown with such important missions. I have it on good authority from your own chaotic mind.”

“You are far more important that you seem to wish to see yourself,” Vader added. Palpatine gave his apprentice an amused, irritated look, but Luke’s head was spinning too much to process it. His left arm was still hanging above him. He was still bound to the table. The skin around his wrist was red and raw.

“Leave me alone,” he repeated. He tried to sit up, but his head swam and lolled against his chest. “Leave me—”

“I will train you, if you consent.” His father was dogged. He had been for all the weeks Luke had endured this. “You need not suffer this indignity. Your power is enough to crumple the galaxy in your fist if you wish to.”

“I don’t, thanks.”

“Defending yourself from Coruscant, even with our heightened sensitivity, will be simple once you allow me to teach you how.”

“I won’t use the dark side.”

“It is the only way to true power. And in an arena like this, weakness cannot be tolerated.” The way Vader looked him up and down like that made him feel sick.

How long would they drag him around like this? How long could he stand it? He hadn’t been more than a hundred metres away from the Sith Lords tormenting the galaxy in over three weeks. It was impossible to stop them from picking whatever information they wanted out of his mind. And his last escape attempt…

Was this his life? To forever trail in his father’s footsteps, because they refused to teach him to shield without the dark side, and he refused to learn it? He could not leave their side. Not while he was on this planet.

This couldn’t be his life. He wouldn’t let it.

The binder around his left wrist snapped open; the Force was used on instinct. He stood up, knees shaking. Palpatine raised an eyebrow at him.

“Are you well, young Skywalker?” he asked. “You seem overwhelmed.”

“Go to hell,” Luke snapped and stumbled for the door.

Vader made to follow him, but Palpatine stopped him. Luke heard him say, just as he hit the button to open the door—it wasn’t locked; why would it be locked, when Luke was bound to them so thoroughly anyway?—“Let him go, my friend. He will come back. He knows that he needs you.”

Every step away from his father was harder. His limbs trembled. He ran into the wall several times. The pressure against the eggshell-thin walls around his mind thumped and thumped and thumped. Hairline fractures formed.

He had made it six corridors away before the eggshell smashed. His fingers went numb; his breathing skipped, like his brain forgot how to order it; his ears whined, although the overload wasn’t coming from there. He clung to consciousness with the fervour of a drowning man and, even as he stumbled to his knees, he crawled forwards.

The officers walking down the corridor gave him a wide berth. They were used to the Emperor’s pet Jedi by now.

The grey floor underneath him was neon yellow as he placed his cheek against it; the cool touch grounded him, almost, but it was intense enough that it stung as well. He felt like something had skinned half his face off.

The first thing he noticed for a long, long time was his father’s boots in his vision. The second thing was that the cacophony vanished. Luke was proud of himself for staying conscious for that one, at least.

“You cannot go on like this, Luke,” his father told him.

“Neither can you,” he retorted. But they both knew that in a war of attrition, the Empire that owned the galaxy would always win.

“Give in to the dark side. You need not lose your mind and your independence.”

“I don’t think your emperor is big on my independence anyway, considering I used it to blow up his pet project.”

“And I am proud of you for it. But this is pointless pain you are inflicting upon yourself. You do not even use your suffering.” Vader pulled at his cape and knelt down beside Luke. He wiped his nose. Luke hadn’t realised it was bleeding again.

It was a horribly paternal gesture. Luke despised him. And himself, for the pathetic, “You’re proud of me?” that slipped out of his lips.

“Naturally.”

Nothing about this situation was natural.

“You pretend to care,” he said, “and still you do this?”

“You refuse to be trained.”

“I tried! I said yes, once, remember! But you swore you wouldn’t use the dark side. You lied.” He still felt dirty, with how he’d wordlessly followed Vader’s instructions to draw on his frustration, before he’d realised what was happening. What little shields he could summon were due to that failed lesson, and he hated it.

“There is no point in teaching you without the dark side.” Vader almost sounded like he was pleading. “Your stubbornness is pointless, Luke. You would squander your potential, ruin your mind, out of some misplaced loyalty to a man who kidnapped and lied to you?”

Luke pushed himself off the floor. It was so grey. It had had so much colour a few minutes ago.

“Leave me alone,” he repeated and kept walking away.

Vader followed. “Do not think to give me orders.”

“You don’t care!” Luke snapped. “If you did, you wouldn’t do this! You can’t say you’re proud of me and then turn around and let this happen!” He pointed at his bloody nose. The dripping was deafening. The blood he shared with Vader touched his lips and baptised his tongue. “Is my power all that you want? Am I useless to you like this, without the dark side to maximise power with no regard for any other cost?”

“How dare you presume—”

“You want the powerful son you think you’re owed,” Luke said. “You don’t want me.”

He walked away.

Vader’s shock bought him several seconds. His outrage bought him several more. By the time Vader thought to follow, Luke was running, running, racing through the corridors of the Palace he despised so much. As Coruscant lurched in on him again, the walls he threw up shattering into bricks and mortar with every step, he swerved, crashed into people, nearly impaled himself on red guards’ staffs. But he kept running.

Somewhere, somehow, he found a balcony. The air on this side of the Palace was thick with smog—he was right above the kitchens. With Coruscant vast and screaming and beautiful in his awareness, he let that acrid smog fill his lungs. It pulled him downwards: out of the atmosphere, past the kitchens, into the dark, cramped, polluted depths below.

His father was coming. Luke did not have much time. He took a deep breath, clung to the railing of the balcony, and let his mind be ruined.

After a point of familiarity, screaming turns to music. His knees buckled underneath him; he lay sprawled on the floor, staring into nothing, and tried to parse the vast universe that beat at Coruscant’s heart. The myriads of lives swept in to carry Luke away, and he was gone.

No Rebel secrets in his mind.

No incriminating evidence. Nothing for Palpatine to use.

No Luke left behind.

Like so many Rebels before him, Luke dived into Coruscant and disappeared.

He saw everything. The sun, miles away on the other side of Coruscant, rising on a squalid neighbour many standard hours behind Imperial City. The rats scuttling over scaffolding between housing development projects, infestation new flats before they were even built. The thieves that stalked through the lower levels. The thousands of people who just wanted to get by.

He knew all of them. He loved them. This was what it was like to be the Force.

And, tragically, he loved his father as well. He saw him and could not look away: he saw him catch up with the body of his son on that balcony, heard him call Luke? Luke? Luke? Saw him fall to his knees. Felt him cradle his son’s body to his chest, with a heart that forgot how to beat without the mind it maintained. Heard his own words run on a vicious loop in his heart as if Vader’s own shields were butter, and Luke could slip right through.

want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want me you don’t want

Lord Vader. I sensed your distress. What has occurred?

Luke is gone.

Palpatine’s dark-robed presence was a black hole. Luke struggled not to get sucked into it.

Gone?

His mind is lost.

Perhaps this is for the best.

The best?

He was not the son you deserved, Lord Vader. You know that minds can be rebuilt—perhaps from scratch. With his body, you can make a new son. One who will not disappoint you.

Disappoint me?              

Of course, if that would be too complex, we have excellent cloning facilities. I understand your grief. But can you understand my pragmatism?

Luke could understand what it felt like for black holes to die. He was unleashed from its orbit, spinning through the atmosphere. Oh, a pregnant mother was having an ultrasound for the first time. Her joy spilled into him, until he felt light as air. She imagined her child, what she would call them, and Vader mourned his.

Vader gathered his son’s corpse in his arms. His shoulders heaved.

“I do not accept this.”

He heard it with eardrums that vibrated under the booming words.

“This is unacceptable.”

Vader’s head snapped up. He scanned the Coruscanti skyline as intently as that new mother was staring at the ultrasound of her child.

“I want you,” he said. And— “I see you.” In the Force, he reached for him. Dissipated, chaotic, spread in a thousand pieces into a thousand levels of a stuffed world or not, the tendrils of Vader’s Force presence reached for him. One by one they cradled tiny sparks and pulled them inwards jealously. “You can’t leave me. I can see you.” The sparks coalesced. Luke was pulled back towards him, and now he could feel the dent his father’s chest box was leaving in his forehead, the hard, durasteel grip on his insensible arms. “I want you back.”

But so many pieces of him were already gone.

Luke opened eyes that seemed to glow, his voice breathy. When he looked at his father, he saw right through him: the faulty suit, the faulty history, the faulty man at the core of it all. He was a pathetic excuse for a villain, a Force-user, and a father. He was trying so hard.

“Then do better,” he ordered. There was a glow to his words, one that seemed more commanding than he had every been in his life. His pulse thrummed faster than the human body should be able to bear, in time with the racing heart of the city planet. “You can’t keep Coruscant quiet.” He pronounced it wrong.

His father stared at him in awe. Luke wondered what he saw: the pockmarked, patchwork soul of a city too large to truly live, except through him?

“Evidently,” he said.

[twilight-orchid]

How the Undatebales React After A Fight

Thank you to my friendo @wholelottatiffy ​ who helped me brainstorm this one. I’m only on chapter 19 at the moment, so I haven’t interacted with anyone but Diavolo much. And thank you to everyone who wanted a follow up to my previous post, I did not expect that. Y’all are super sweet!

tw: Fighting (a bit more in depth than my first post), description of panic attack, minor name calling, insecurity, depression, angst with resolution.

Diavolo:

Diavolo doesn’t know what to do with himself. 

To start, we need to talk about how the argument unfolds.

He’s not used to arguing. 

He’s Lord Diavolo, Prince of The Devildom, head of the RAD student council. No one defys him on anything.

So you raising your voice at him, trying to get him to see your way,

It was very overwhelming.

He tried to reason calmly with you at first, but he felt cornered. 

When fight or flight kicked in, his body chose fight.

His wings burst open in all their glory as he screamed back, his towering frame far more intimidating than yours.

The blind rage is slapped out of him when he sees your terrified face.

If you’re at the castle, he’ll order you to leave if you haven’t already. Anywhere else, he’ll turn and leave without a word. 

He wants to put distance between you both for fear of making things worse.

He absolutely cannot believe he just blew up at you. He would have never thought he'd raise his voice at his partner regardless of the situation.

He can’t shake the image of you flinching from him from his mind.

Now, being the prince of hell certainty has it’s perks; He has power, influence, and everything he could want.

But the one thing he wants the most seems to evade him no matter what: a friend.

A real friend. 

He has Barbatos and Lucifer, but it’s Barbatos’ job to accompany the prince, and Lucifer is bound to Diavolo whether he likes the future king or not.

MC was the first person who chooses to be with and around him for no other reason than the fact that they love him.

And now he’s terrified them. Gotten in their face and screamed at them.

He assumes he’s permanently driven you away.

As soon as you leave or he gets home, he rushes to find Barbatos. To explain what happened and hope his butler would know what to do.

He’ll text Lucifer and ask him to check on you as well.

He just feels lost. 

He wanders the palace aimlessly and he can’t focus on his work without his thoughts drifting to you.

He doesn’t feel like going to school or even getting out of bed. He doesn’t want to speak to anyone - to put on a happy face and pretend his world isn’t shaking.

Yet, a prince has his responsibilities. He will go about his normal public appearances as usual, smile and laugh and carry on, but it’s a mask.

Those close to him clearly notice the prince isn’t himself.

After school he visits the spots that you two visit together frequently.  

Anything to make him feel as if you are still at his side.

If you don’t sleep in his bed that night, he’ll take it as proof that he was right and that you don’t want to be with him anymore.

He doesn’t sleep that night. He clutches your pillow that still smells of you and just bawls. 

He will tell Barbatos he feels unwell the next morning and to postpone his obligations for the day.

This prompts Barbatos to seek you out and see if he can help resolve the issue.

Barbatos tries to stay out of your relationship as he doesn't feel it's his business, but his job is to assist Diabolo in any way necessary. And right now, he needs you more than anything.

If you sleep at his side still, it will be a glimmer a hope. That all may not be lost. 

He’ll give you you space that night. He’ll walk around you on eggshells but always watch you from the corner of his eye to gauge the temperature.

He avoids your gaze, stays on the other side of the room as you prepare for bed, and as much as it kills him, doesn’t hug you or kiss you goodnight.

He spends the night staring at your sleeping face and making silent promises that, if you forgive him, he will never let this happen again.

He thinks of how to apologize. What he could say, what he could do. 

Ultimately though, it feels like everything he could think of is too little of an apology. 

He pretends to be asleep when he sees you stir and decides to let you choose if you want to forgive him on your own.

You will have to approach him first. 

He thinks losing his temper with you was unacceptable and feels like he has no right to ask for your forgiveness.

Worse, he’s terrified of not being given forgiveness.

Thus, I feel a fight with Diavolo will take as long as you let it. He’s willing to suffer as long as you need him to.

Barbatos:

Barbatos doesn’t argue. He sits quietly and watches you, his responses calm but absolute.

He’s no pushover, he will defend his side, but he’s not going to enter a screaming match. It’s just not him.

You know you’ve really gotten under his skin when he offers a tight, forcefully pleasant smile.

He finally shuts down the conflict with "It's your right to feel that way just as it's mine to disagree." And leave it at that.

Post argument, he will avoid you and lock his feelings about the fight inside.

He tells himself he doesn’t have time to deal with the terrible feeling clawing at his heart and takes to his duties as an escape.

If you sleep in another room, he realizes that this isn’t a minor disagreement and he’s suddenly very distressed.

His instinct is to use his future vision. 

To scour the timelines and see how the different versions of himself handle it and to replicate the one with the most desirable outcome.

However, he stops himself. He feels it isn’t fair to you. 

You have a right to be upset about things and he doesn’t want to manipulate the situation, and by extension, you.

Thus, he must find another way to cope.

He’s always a devoted butler, but it’s not his whole life. 

He takes time for himself throughout the day and in the evenings. Unless Diavolo needs him, nights are usually his to do with as he wants.

Now, however, his identity becomes Diavolo’s butler. 

He’s constantly asking for extra work and hovering more than usual around the young lord in hopes of being given a task. 

Diavolo finds it odd and asks about it, but he brushes it off. This isn’t anyone else’s business, least of all his employer’s.

Even though Barbatos won’t tell him, Diavolo can clearly tell his friend is off.

In hopes of giving him something to distract himself with, Diavolo requests hellfire mushroom rolled cigar cookies and Barbatos jumps on the opportunity. 

Baking has always been his escape as well as his happy place. Diavolo’s favorite isn’t easy to make, so he looked forward to the task.

And it worked. Keeping track of the ingredients, the steps, and the technique required was enough to occupy his mind.

But then it was time to wait for it to bake. 

He suddenly feels trapped in the suffocating silence of the kitchen.

His mind replays the argument on repeat as he falls down a rabbit hole of what ifs.

He loves you more than anything and the last thing he could ever want is for you to be mad at him.

No, the worst thing would to no longer be able to call you his.

Suddenly, he becomes aware of the sharp scent of burnt food.

He jumps up and runs to the oven. He’d been so lost in thought he hadn’t noticed the timer go off.

He pulls the blackened desert out, puts the cookie sheet on the stove top, and just stares at the burnt cookies.

His sight blurs and a soft sob escapes from the prison he’s created in his heart.

He wasn’t crying because he burnt the cookies, but because they were a visual representation of everything he’s been trying to suppress.

Once he collects himself, he knows he can’t continue like this. 

He doesn’t want to invade your space in case you’re still mad, but he needs a resolution.

He’ll send a quick text and silently begs you to respond. 

“MC, I understand if you are still upset with me, but would you be willing to talk though it? I look forward to hearing from you.”

If you still sleep with him that night, it is a great weight off of his shoulders. 

He hopes it means that it will be easier to make up with you and that you aren’t too mad.

When you wake up, he will be watching you like he has all night with a small, tired smile. 

He’ll put on your favorite tea as you get ready for the day then asks if you’d be willing to talk things over.

Because of how it affects both his job and himself, a fight with Barbados will not last long. He’ll seek a resolution by one, maybe two days tops.

Solomon: 

Lucifer may be the avatar of pride, but Solomon can certainly give the demon a run for his money.

In the moment of a particularly heated argument, he absolutely will not admit he’s wrong. 

In fact, he really doesn’t consider it a possibility.

There’s no point in trying to get him to see your side until things have calmed down. It’s like talking to a brick wall.

He won’t yell, but he gets a pissy, condescending tone and almost talks down to you.

If you really push his buttons, his patience with this “useless” argument runs out.

“Oh please, listen to yourself! You’re acting like a dull child!”

Freezes as soon as it leaves his mouth.

He didn’t mean to say that.

He opens his mouth to apologize immediately, but upon seeing your hurt reaction he becomes flustered and can’t get the words out.

He’ll simply turn and leave. 

He’s absolutely furious with himself. 

Solomon is old and wise. He’s seen many things, been many places, and he knows many things.

Sometimes though, he needs a reminder that he doesn’t know everything.

Even if he still feels he was right, he knows name-calling is unacceptable.

In fact, he doesn’t miss the irony that he was the one being childish. 

His self-fury is replaced by overwhelming worry if you sleep in another room that night.

Of all the treasures he’s come across, none were as precious as you. 

He can’t stand the thought of losing you because of his thoughtlessness.

For once, he feels like an idiot.

He locks himself in his study that night and brainstorms on how to make it up to you.

He decides to approach you in the morning at RAD. He’s terrified that you think he actually meant the insult and wants to clear the air as soon as possible.

He’s afraid of you taking anything less than his highest praise to heart or for you to think that he views you as below himself. 

The thought of how he must have made you feel makes him sick to his stomach.

The more he thinks about it, the more his body demands that he act. 

While he has many virtues, patience is not high on his list. 

Assuming you returned to The House of Lamentation that night, he’ll text Asmo to explain what happened and asks if he’d let him in first thing in the morning.

Thus, when you leave to head for breakfast, be careful not to trip over your sorcerer who’s seated against the wall outside of your room.

He scrambles to his feet, his hair and clothes a mess and bags heavy under his eyes.

“MC! Sorry, didn’t mean to scare you. I just- *sighs* I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to say that. Would you be willing to discuss the matter again? The right way this time.”

If you do sleep with him, he’s at least relieved that you don’t seem like you plan to leave him.

Once again, however, he wants to clear the air as soon as he can.

You’ll both be sitting in silence as you get ready for bed. He’s clearly lost in thought, his eyes focused unblinking on his feet and any movements slow and disjointed.

He's not sure how to apologize, if it's too soon, and is afraid to make things worse if it's not an appropriate time.

However, seeing you move about the room he decides to risk it so he doesn't risk losing you.

Suddenly, he stands up straight and locks eyes with you.

“MC, we don’t have to talk about the fight tonight, but I need you to know that I didn’t mean what I said. I’m sorry.”

It’s up to you if you want to forgive him immediately, but he will at least apologize for the insult as soon as he gathers his thoughts.

Simeon:

If you yell at him, Simeon is just gonna sit there stunned

Your relationship is usually as laid back as he is, so he doesn't know what to do with you blowing up at him.

All he knows it that this is bad and he needs to find a way to make you happy again. 

The thought of losing you takes precedence over everything and, though he will not sway to your side just because you’re upset, the argument loses any worth it had to him.

He’ll go to Solomon almost immediately in hopes your fellow human might know better about how arguments are resolved between human couples.

He becomes very distressed when Solomon says everyone handles it differently. He then asks what he should to make up with you specifically.

He doesn't have a defined emotion right now, he's just on edge. He wants to gather information first and foremost so he can figure out what to do from there.

He’s just a walking ball of anxiety and those close to the angel even become concerned. No one has seen him like this before.

If you decide to sleep in another room, the anxiety just takes over. 

His chest feels like fiery chains are crushing his ribs, he can hear his heart is hammering in his head, and his body begins to shake as if he were buried in an avalanche.

He doesn’t realize he’s crying as he struggles to breathe.

Solomon had expected something like this may happen so he made sure to be nearby to help coach him though it.

Once he’s calmed down, Solomon urges him to talk to you as soon as possible.

Simeon isn't sure though. True, he wasn't in a good place, but he didn't want to push you if you weren't ready to talk.

He doesn’t know what to do. He doesn’t feel like he can think let alone coherently tell you how he feels.

He begins to feel overwhelmed again and decides to try writing down his thoughts in hopes of it helping him sort through the tsunami of emotions consuming him.

While it doesn't completely calm him down, it does help.

He stares down at the messy, tear blotted papee and has an idea.

The next morning you should expect to find a hand-written letter slipped under you door.

The letter is long and and rambling. His usually pristine handwriting is as shaky as his hands were when writing it.

It's not as dense and heartbroken as his original one, but the further it goes the more desperate his words become.

He writes about how much you mean to him and apologizes for allowing things to get that intense. He writes that he loves you and doesn’t want to lose you. 

He reminisces about his favorite memories of you two together more than once.

Finally, that no disagreement you two could ever have is more importantly to him than being with you.

It's really just a collection of everything sitting on his heart at the moment.

That day at RAD he’ll watch you from the sidelines and pray you approach him about the letter so you two can work things out.

If you still sleep in his bed, he’ll be very conflicted about if he should approach you yet. 

He’s afraid of making it worse if you’re still mad.

However, Simeon is an open book when it comes to his emotions so you will absolutely be able to tell that he’s freaking out.

So please, save the man a terrible night and talk it though with him.

He wants you to not be angry anymore, but even if you’re still upset just having concrete information to cling to will help him immensely. 

He’s thinking of all the worst case scenarios and needs reassurance that the relationship isn’t over.

Simeon will try to make up within a day, so however long it lasts after that is up to you.

Luke (MC is his best friend):

Luke will be very, very distressed. 

You’re his best friend aside from Simeon. Friends don’t fight like this, right?

Wait, so if you’re fighting with him, does that mean you’re not his friend anymore???

As soon as the thought enters his mind, he decides that must be the case. 

Real friends don’t fight with each other like this.

Externally he takes a “I don’t need a lousy human like you for a friend anyway” attitude. 

He’s not just testy with you though, anyone who interacts with him that day learns that chihuahuas bite.

Simeon immediately realizes something isn’t right and is very concerned.

As soon as he asks him what’s wrong, Luke's mask of anger is discarded and he tosses himself in the older angel’s arms crying hysterically.

He doesn’t want to lose you for a friend.

I doubt Luke has ever truly argued with someone so this uncharted territory is earth shattering to him.

Simeon, as he tries to calm Luke, he will text you and ask you to come to wherever they are immediately.

Because of Simeon’s intervention, the fight will only go undiscussed for a few hours max.

Again, sorry if I don’t know these characters as well as I’d like yet. Thank you for reading! 

[rezzyromance]

How would the four lords react if their s/o suddenly says, “I think I’m in love with you,” while watching them do something mundane, eg. Alcina putting on her lipstick, Heisenberg tinkering with something, etc.

This makes me so happy :,)

Alcina

You lay on the large bed you and Alcina shared. It was made to fit her, so to you it was like an ocean of soft mattress and silk sheets. You were so comfortable, although the presence of your lover would make the situation all the more comforting. Instead of laying with you, she was hurrying to get ready for a meeting Mother Miranda had called together. She always made sure to look her best before leaving the house. You lay on your side and prop your head up with your hand, all your weight put onto your elbow. You watched as she sat down in front of her mirror to do some touch ups on her makeup.

"I wish you didn't have to go. I wish you could just lay here with me." you complain. "I know my dear. I'd love nothing more than be able to spend my time with you, lazing away, but I'm afraid this meeting is very important." her tone was soft and sweet. It was a tone she only spoke to you in. You sigh and continue to stare at her, admiring the way she gently bounces her hair in her hands to make sure it sits perfectly. She notices you staring through the mirror and can't help but smile as she reaches for her favorite lipstick.

"I'm surprised you haven't burned a hole in me with that stare of yours." she says before parting her lips to apply her lipstick.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you lovingly say. It wasn't odd or out of the ordinary. You told her that you loved her often, but there was something special about the way you said it this time that made her freeze. Her eyes grew wide for just a second as a blush began to rise from her pale cheeks. She turns to face you, intensely staring into your eyes as the corners of her lips perk upwards into a pleasant smile. "Oh my sweet (Y/N).", she stands up and walks over to you before placing a kiss on your lips, leaving a red stain from her lipstick.

Donna

You yawn as you curl up comfortably in a chair with a hot cup of tea in your hands. It's not a yawn of boredom or exhaustion, but a yawn of comfort. The type of yawn your body produces because it's so at peace that life itself begins to lull you to sleep. You were watching as Donna sewed a brand new dress for one of her dolls. She had taken off her veil to do this, not wanting any lack of vision to ruin her progress. The dress was beautiful. She had been working on it for days. It was a small, pink and flower patterned dress with white lace around the edges that Donna stared at with intensity as she attached it with her needle and thread.

No words were spoken for the entirety of her process. You sat in silence and watch through out all of it. The way her eyes never unfocused from the task made your heart flutter. The way her dainty hands held the fabric so gently caused a light smile to rest on your face. She was just so beautiful.

After a while, you decide to break the silence. "I think I'm in love with you." She gasps and nearly pricks her finger with the needle. Her whole body language changed as she nervously fiddled with a stray strand of hair with her fingers. Her shyness only made you smile harder. "I think I love you too.", she whispers before smiling and continuing with her work, attempting to hide how flustered she is.

Moreau

The light from the tv was the only thing illuminating the room. Moreau had put on one of his favorite romance movies for you both to watch. You told him you'd never seen it before and that absolutely blew his mind. How could you NOT see this masterpiece of a movie? There was no negotiating with the man. You HAD to watch it and so now here you are, curled up on the couch with him in the dark.

You had noticed out of the corner of your eye throughout the whole movie that Sal kept turning his head towards you, observing your reactions to his favorite parts of the movie. He wanted nothing more than for you to enjoy the movie just as much as he does, so you made sure to pay close attention. It was a very cheesey movie about an underdog winning the girl of his dreams who's way out of his league. But still, you pushed through.

You noticed that he hadn't looked over at you in a while. His face was too fixated on the television. You glance over to and notice something. Very subtly, he was mouthing every word spoken in the movie. You kept staring but made sure to not make it obvious enough for him to notice. Word for word, he got everything right. Every single word and sentence was right on time. "How many times has he seen this?", you wondered to yourself. Then, the movie goes silent for a second other than some cinematic music. His lips stopped moving as there were no more words to speak, but a smile grew on his face. You look to the movie and see that it was some sort of scene where the two characters have their first kiss. It's passionate and wholesome. "I think I'm love with you.", you say as you stare at him. He jumps as his shocked expression jerks from the tv to your face. His eyes were wide and his mouth was agape. "R-REALLY?!" You laugh at his excitement. "Of course! I know it!", you assure him before placing a kiss on his cheek.

Heisenberg

"Son of a bitch..." he grumbled quietly as he fiddled with something small in his hands. He had been working on a gift for you for a while now, but he needed it to be absolutely perfect. His face was sweaty even though he wasn't doing anything that required any hard physical labor. It was just the sheer intensity of his own perfectionism that caused such stress for him. He had a pair of glasses that he never wears on. They just help magnify things for him so he can see even the smallest little details of whatever he's working on.

"Heisey, I'm bored. Mind if I sit in here while you work? I promise I won't be a distraction.", you lean on the doorway to his workshop. "Sure but you're gonna have to sit..", he paused for a second as he dragged a metal chair across the room, setting it in a corner that's the farthest away from him. "Oh come on!", you groan. "Don't give me that bitchin'. I'm busy and this is top secret stuff I'm working on!" You groan at his ridiculousness and walk over to the chair anyway. You sat down and watched as his brow remained furrowed intensely. "Damn. He must be working on something serious." You thought to yourself. You noticed he had his tongue sticking out ever so slightly as he worked. You wanted to chuckle, but didn't want to distract him. "Stupid piece of shit..... come on....", he whispers to himself through gritted teeth.

You stared at him, captivated by his focus and intensity. Whatever he's working on must be really small because he's able to hide it from your field of vision with just his hand. He kept grunting and whispering things under his breath. You could tell he was growing frustrated with whatever he was working on. "What are you working on again?", you question. "It's a surprise.", he says bluntly. Your interest is peaked.

He looked goofy. His large body was hunched over a chair, hovering over something so small you hadn't even seen it yet. How could something so small be causing so much stress from such a large man. The absurdity of it all caused you to chuckle. "What the hell's so funny?" He sounds aggravated as all hell yet his focus never strays away from whatever is in his hands. He looked to be carving into whatever it is.

"I think I'm in love with you.", you blurt out. He responds with a cocky chuckle after pausing for a second. You couldn't tell, but in that second where he was speechless, he felt like his heart stopped. Did you really mean it? Could you really mean it? Why now? How could him in such a strange position invoke feelings of affection from you? While his mind raced, he was able to appear as if it didn't affect him. "Oh yeah? How come?" "You're just so funny looking right now. But in a cute way.", you explain. "Like, you're this big and powerful guy, but you're so stressed over something that's so smile and you're trying so hard to work on whatever it is with your giant hands. I'm not sure why, but it's just so loveable to me."

He had completely frozen during your words. He had no idea what to do. It felt as if his brain short circuited and was unable to proceed normally from that moment. "You know what. I think it's perfect.", he says before stepping away from his workshop table with his hand clasped together. He swallowed harshly as he walked towards you and revealed what was in his hands. He made a necklace all by himself with his own blood, sweat, and tears. On the front, it was his family crest. He had manage to manipulate the metal perfectly. On the back it had the word "Buttercup", engraved. You didn't hesitate to put it around your neck. "It looks even better on you.", he smirks before pulling you into a kiss.

[voltagesmutter]

The Second Cumming.

Fandom: Obey Me Pairing: Lucifer x MC x Diavolo, Satan x MC x Belphegor, Leviathan x MC x Simeon, Amso x MC, Asmo x MC x Solomon, Mammon x MC x Beelzebub. (Female MC). Warnings: Threesome’s, Female heat, Mild Dubcon, Voyeurism, Mild Exhibitionism, Toy use, Oral, vaginal, anal penetration. Squirting, Double Penetration, mild Yaoi, Polyamorous relationship. Notes: The Dickening Part 2. The biggest thank you to @theshove​ for having so much faith with me for this piece. Not only for your generous donation but also for beta-ing the whole piece within a day! And also to @theinariakuma​ for all your love and support. Also thank you to all those who donated for early release as well and all your wonderful feedback. 💛 Tagging: @starry-starry-night24​, @0-miles-away​, @pixiestick0924, @iloveobeyme, @ghoulgirlradio, @raymiazaki. 

“Just five more minutes,” she whined, pulling the red bed covers over her head.

“You said this five minutes ago, and five before that, and five before that,” a deep voice answered above the sound of metal hooks clinking as curtains were thrown open, letting light flood into the room.

“But Lucifer!” She whined once more in protest, squeezing her eyes shut, trying her best to attempt to block out the beams of light shining through the covers.

“No buts,” Lucifer huffed, attaching his cloak to his shirt in the golden framed mirror beside the bed. “You promised Solomon you would-“ The end of his sentence was cut off by the bedroom door being slammed wide open. 

“Lucifer! Beel ate my lizard custard slice!” Mammon came storming in, huffing with rage and disturbing the peace.

“Oh lord Diavolo give me strength,” Lucifer sighed as Beel came bounding in after him. 

“He took my money to gamble at that tournament! He owes me more than a lizard slice!” The ginger haired brother took a few paces into the room. 

“Lucifer, there’s no food! That big oaf must have eaten everything again in the night!” Satan tutted, walking straight into the back of someone. Not realising that the broad back he’d just walked into belonged to Beel, the big oaf he was talking about. 

“Hey I didn’t touch a thing! And who are you calling oaf, scrawny bookworm!” Beel towered over Satan as he turned around, prodding a finger into his chest. 

“Boys, don’t start!” Lucifer growled as both Satan and Beel transformed into their demon forms, Satan glaring up at Beel. 

“My grimm’s on Beel,” Mammon laughed, sitting down on Lucifer's bed as a squeal rang out.

“Mammon you idiot!” The young girl threw the covers off her head, making Mammon freeze in mid air after realising he had sat on her. 

“Shit-I- I’m sorry, I didn’t see ya! Shouldn’t be sneaking up on the Great Mammon like that,” Mammon’s facing blushed red as he quickly stood up. 

“Hey, what’s all the noise?” Belphegor and Levi ran from their rooms into Lucifer's. Lucifer sighed and covered his face with one hand. Just once he wanted a quiet and peaceful morning without the shenanigans of his younger siblings. 

“Tough guy here thinks he can chat shit as always,” Beel hissed, staring down Satan, whose tail flickered feistily into the air. 

“Oh, morning boys!” Asmo chirped as he walked past, sporting only a small thong and a half done up silk robe. “Has anyone seen sweetie, I need her opinion and she’s not in her room.” He pouted softly before his eyes fell onto the girl in Lucifer's bed. “Ah there you are! Now come on you,” he cooed, pushing past his brothers with little regard for their problems and tugging her hand.

“Wait- Asmo! I’m not dressed!” She squealed, attempting to clutch the sheets to her naked body but, as Asmo pulled her, the sheets fell and she stumbled forward off the bed. Her nightie lay bunched on the floor from her previous night with Lucifer and all eyes fell on her. The arguments and squabbles from moments ago became lost in translation as seven sets of eyes travelled over her, all of their pacts visible in different locations, with Satan’s and Beel’s radiating due to them being in demon form and giving a glow to her skin. 

Ever since helping them with their heats, she and the brothers had come to love each other, creating a relationship between all of them and the human. Each getting private and shared alone time with her, all of them giving her their heart and hers to them. 

“You know, I’m not hungry for food anymore,” Satan smirked as he turned his body to face her, taking a few steps forward only to be held back by Beel.

“Fat chance. I’m the one for gluttony, I need to eat more importantly,”.

“Beel move, you're blocking the view.” Levi entered and pushed Beel out of the way, sending the biggest of the brothers flying into Mammon.

“Hey! Watch it! These treads were expensive!” Mammon growled as Beel stepped on his white shoes. 

“Right! Out! All of you out!” Lucifer finally snapped, bending down and handing the girl her clothes. “School is in an hour. I want all of you ready to go by then I have an important meeting with Diavolo and, as we are all aware, our little dove is meeting with Solomon.” 

“I- um,” The girl blushed as she threw on her clothes, all of the brothers sending her a confused expression. “I’m helping Solomon with a birth-control potion.” The pill she was currently taking was in short supply and since condoms broke left, right and centre with the brothers - the dick game was too strong - this seemed their only viable option. 

-

“So this,” Solomon was holding up a vial in his hand, the gold shimmers twisting in the light of the open window, “is just a tester. Its effects will last a few days, just to trial how it gets on.” In one hand was a gold vial with shimmers, in the other a gold vial with dark blue swirls. “I’ve perfected the ingredients; it works similar to human contraception, just in liquid form. Everything regulates the same. To test its success you should bleed in a week's time. If all is in order I can produce a bigger batch which will last you roughly twenty one days. if you wish to not continue with periods then you can take another one straight after.” 

“And what is this one?” She pointed to the potion with deep blue hues in his other hand. She’d grown close to Solomon over her time here, becoming close friends with the slightly perverted sorcerer. 

“The same; both are made from the same batch, only this contains fairy dust which enhances the aphrodisiac hormones.” A ‘birth-control viagra for women’ as he had once put it. Pumped full of ovulation hormones to increase sex drive without fear of risk. 

“Okay, so do I just take it now or…?” she asked as she took the potion from his hand. It was the same potion she’d used during the brothers’ heat, only this was longer lasting with regard to time and helped to regulate the hormones inside her body. 

“Yes, take it all. You won’t feel any different,” he assured with a slightly sweet smile, a smile he only kept for her. Without thinking she knocked the golden liquid back, humming at the sweet taste of honey, as silk liquid dripped down the back of her throat. 

“You are an angel!” She smiled sweetly, pressing a kiss to his cheek and the vial back in his hand. “I can’t stay for much longer; I have a meeting with Diavolo and Lucifer I must attend. Are you sure there is nothing I can do to thank you for your help?”. 

The sorcerer sighed and rolled his eyes, she always did this. Offering a thank you for his assistance. “As I’ve told you before, the thank you is you letting me test out the potions on you.” ‘A real-life guinea pig’, he’d once teased her with. 

“Well, I must dash. I’ll see you soon, okay?” She waved as she picked up her satchel before leaving purgatory hall and headed back to R.A.D. She’d never understood the twisted rumours she had heard about Solomon. He was always so sweet and pleasant to her. Although he could be mocking and demeaning at times, his words seemed more of a false threat than anything more. But his actions towards her were always soft and gentle.

As she walked back with a little skip in her step, Solomon turned back to his book upon the table. It was open to the page where the instructions for making his potions lay. He’d skimmed over the ingredients as he made it, as he had to make some minor adjustments. Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup was required, a vital ingredient, but notorious for being an aphrodisiac for demons if they came into contact with it. Even the residue from the bottle on her lips would set off intense lust inside a demon if she was to kiss them - and Solomon knew this was a contraception potion. She would most definitely be doing more than just kissing her demon lovers. He had to add in a set of ingredients to hold back the effects on demons so that this would only have effect on a human system. He didn’t dare risk sending the brothers into an accidental heat; he had heard from her (and Asmo) the extent of what had happened during their heat only a few weeks ago and couldn’t bear the thought of putting the poor girl through it again after she’d had such a short time to recover. 

Only he didn’t notice an error in his work until it was too late...

“Once the liquid has cooled, add a few drops of blue fairy dust - check. To neutralize the effects of the Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup… oh,” Solomon stopped as he read out the remainder of the listing ingredients. “Well then… doesn’t this make for an interesting turn of events.” A dark smile grimacing over his face. 

-

“Darling.” Lucifer smiled to see her walk into Diavolos' office, her uniform in perfect condition and hair without a single strand out of place. He beamed with pride at how beautifully she represented the school. 

“Hi, sorry I’m late.” She smiled back with a faint blush as Lucifer pressed a kiss to her cheek. She brushed a piece of hair behind her ear as she sat beside Lucifer on the opposite side of Diavolos' desk. Dia felt the corners of his mouth twitch upwards, seeing the pair so smitten with each other, the glancing looks of admiration shared between them. He was more than glad to see his old friend so happy, even if it wasn’t with him… But that part of their relationship had ended many centuries ago out of fear of the council; Lucifer had refused to put Dia’s claim to the throne at jeopardy. Diavolo had never found a lover since. There had been the occasional one night stand before but nothing more serious than that. The council would be infuriated to find out about his past with Lucifer and his nightly activities with others. He’d thought Lucifer would never find another either, with the years he had spent alone and unloved. But then a ray of hope came into his life with the young girl opening up her heart to him and his brothers. Whilst Diavolo watched from the side lines, longing to be a part of it all as he, too, found himself purely intoxicated with the young female and wanted nothing more to have a stake of claim to her heart.

“____, it’s a pleasure as always,” Dia greeted her with a nod. “To continue from where we were…”

Diavolo carried on their conversation, about how well the exchange program was going and how she was receiving some of the best grades to be seen from pupils. All was going well, until she felt it.

At first it was just the normal burn. She knew sometimes it happened, a faint ovulation feeling. She didn't mind. But her eyes kept drifting over the two demons. She found her mouth going dry as she admired Diavolo, his strong arms... his general size. He and Beel were the largest men she knew. She wondered if-- Nope. She had to stop that right there. "A-ah Lucifer. I think we need to go." Her voice was meek, arousal getting worse the longer she was in the room with two extremely attractive demons. However, golden eyes were locked on her, and she was squirming. 

"My dear, the meeting isn't over. We'll go once it is over."

“Lucifer... we really need to go.” Heat was rising amongst her cheeks, her fingers grasping the pleated edge of her uniform skirt. Every nerve in her body flooded, pulsing alive with arousal and a pool of liquid flushed between her thighs. The more she looked between the demons, one her superior, the other one of her pacted seven lovers. “Please.” 

“My dove,“ Lucifer had started, a little huff of annoyance which peaked into curiosity at her soft whimper at him placing his hand on her thigh. His words pulled her away from her stare at Diavolo, crimson eyes meeting her lustful gaze. 

“Lucifer-“ She was unable to stop her thighs parting slightly at the contact of his palm upon her thigh. The scent of her arousal grew thick in the air, hitting Lucifer instantly, him now realising the need of her pleas. And just as he was about to offer his hand to leave, a low growl came from the other side of the desk. Diavolo was not about to let this opportunity pass him by.

The look from Diavolo made her legs spread wider, her cheeks flushed red as she let out a short gasp. Her fingers reached to her side as she grasped the edge of her chair, both of the demon's eyes focusing on the rise of her skirt up her bare thigh and the straining of her nipples against the thin material of her bra and shirt. She looked desperate, felt desperate and just ached to be filled. A small ‘please’ mustered, not directly speaking to Lucifer but to both of them.

-

“I can’t wait until we get home.” As she began unbuttoning her shirt, the white of her bra peeked through, showing the fullness of her breasts. Any sense of shame had left her body, the only thing on her mind right now was to be ruthlessly taken and to quench this burning desire between her thighs. Lucifer had objected at first, but with how strong her scent was, he knew it would be a risk to get her home as any demon within a few meters radius would be able to catch her scent. A scent that was meant only for him and his brothers. 

“You can have my office…” Diavolo had gestured, feeling sorry for the poor girl, having to watch her become undone so quickly. But as he walked past to offer them some space, her arm quickly caught his and a small doting look from her with the word, ‘Stay’ pushed him over the edge. 

-

“Ngh- Dia!”.

A low chuckle came from the prince as he shifted slightly, tongue moving from her dripping clit to tease where her and Lucifer met. Lucifer was just as sensitive as he remembered. Whilst his mouth moved to capture his balls, Lucifer let out a deep hiss as his fingers gripped tightly onto the girls waist, Diavolos fingers continuing to tease their sticky meeting and her clit for the additional stimulation. The additional stimulation she had begged for.

Diavolo lay on his desk, his head close to hanging off the side whilst she hovered above him on all fours, his cock buried deep inside her mouth - well what she could take anyway - whilst her hand worked the rest of him. Lucifer stood behind her, impaling her onto his cock as he took her deep and fast, giving her exactly what she needed right now. Both Dia and Lucifer working together to bring her to climax after climax, each one melting into the next. Diavolo having to hold himself back a little every now and then, wanting nothing more than to bury himself in both of them and leave them in a heaving pool of his mess. But now wasn’t the time for that.

“Ah… ah! Diavolo!” she whimpered, her voice an octave higher than normal as one hand dug her nails into his thigh. The feeling of Lucifer fucking her with the touches of Diavolo on her clit and folds was too much, sending her barrelling into another high. 

“Good girl,” Diavolo cooed, pulling his mouth from Lucifer’s balls to lap up the wetness that had drenched his cock each time he pulled out. “I believe it’s your turn now,”. Champagne orbs glistened but were missed by Lucifer as he clenched his eyes shut and let his jaw tense as the teasing actions of Diavolo. 

“N-not yet Dia- focus on her first,” he grunted, snapping his hips quickly against hers as Diavolo’s mouth was once again on him, sucking in a motion that made the heat pool like a volcano ready to erupt at any given second. He needed Diavolo to stop now or it would be over and she was clearly far from being spent from the way she glanced over her shoulder and begged for more with the little words she could muster.

With a grunt Diavolo pulled himself away, latching his mouth onto her clit and feeling smug at the way she cried out. Her back arched as she clawed at his thighs, almost drawing blood, the weight of her breasts pushing down against his lower stomach was an added sensation in itself. The push and pull of her body rubbed her nipples against his skin, sending vibrations of her moans around Diavolos cock and across his body. 

The wet sounds of slapping skin and Diavolos tongue against her rang through the office, Lucifer having put on an enchantment to block any sound leaving the room so they could attend to her needs without fear, Diavolo in amazement to see how sensitive she was to his touch, how good her essence tasted and just how mind blowing she felt with her lips wrapped around his cock. But, like Lucifer had said, this was about her pleasure and Diavolo didn’t want to blow his load until she was a whimpering mess.

-

“C-close!” High gasps growing louder with each breath, only a few thrusts after her previous orgasm,her walls beginning to tighten once more. Her arms wrapped tightly around Lucifer for support, his hands holding her waist tightly to guide her movements. Lucifer rested on Diavolos desk, her straddling as him as she rocked in his lap with the help of his movement whilst Diavolo pressed against her back, his lips focusing on her neck whilst his hands fondled her breasts. Tweaking her nipples in his index and thumbs, grinding against her behind whilst his cock slid between her thighs. The movement of her rocking, the clench of her thighs and the fleeting contact with Lucifer's cock was enough to keep him on the edge. 

“That’s it princess,” Diavolo whispered softly into her ear, catching her lobe and giving it a gentle tug, his soft words touching her heart. With the little strength she had left, she turned her head, pulling an arm free from Lucifer to grasp the light-red hair and pull his face closer to hers. Her cheeks were flushed red, eyes lost in a galaxy haze, a goddess of lust was all Diavolo could think when he saw her. It was their first kiss, and far from their last, but the softness of it as they melted into each other made her clench tightly over Lucifer. The strong feeling of intimacy and love she shared with the brothers was portrayed with Diavolo as their lips continued to meet. 

And as her climax hit her, she turned back to Lucifer, letting his lips glide over hers as they had done some many times, soft whimpers escaping their kiss, her body convulsing as it curled from the sheer force of her release before slumping against Lucifer’s chest, her thirst quenched and her body exhausted. 

Her raven haired lover pressed a kiss to her temple, pushing her hair which was now stuck to her forehead out of the way and off her face. Diavolo’s hand wrapped around Lucifer’s on her waist, continuing the rocking motion as they both chased their release, Lucifer buried deep inside her and Diavolo snuggly between her thighs. 

“Dia…” Lucifer thrusted up slightly at the feeling of his length pressing against his own each time he pulled out. Crimson eyes met golden over her shoulder as she lay panting against his chest, fingers curling over each other’s and before they knew it both leaned across to exchange a kiss.

A sloppy kiss, tongue and teeth meeting in a passionate exchange. A kiss that hadn’t happened for decades but had never lost its rhythm. A kiss that spoke a thousand words that could never be said out loud. It had been the end of both of them, lips sparking and igniting the fires within. Lucifer spilled deep inside her as Diavolo came upon the top of her thighs, finally marking her skin with his release.

The room fell silent apart from the sound of ragged breaths, the two men pressing their foreheads against her shoulder and back, holding her until her racing heart had finally calmed down.

-

Diavolo had seen them off, Lucifer carrying her to his car before whisking them home after a fleeting exchange of kisses from Diavolo to them both in the privacy of his office. Another demon, only this one being the prince, having stolen her heart. 

“Take care of her,” Diavolo had whispered to his former lover, stroking her hair as she blissfully slept in Lucifer's arms. Her body was exhausted. 

“I always do,” Lucifer gave the faintest of smiles to Diavolo before parting ways, his whole being flooded with pride to have two lovers back in his life. 

Lucifer was ecstatic; nostalgia of feelings came flooding back that he had kept down with Diavolo. But he was also weary. This behaviour from her was completely askew. She’d teased Lucifer before in Diavolo’s and public presence, but never to the extent that she had begged him to take her there and then. Never had she looked so radiant yet so frustrated at the same time. And never had she been so unsatisfied that it had taken a few more rounds than normal to satisfy her. Something was wrong. The only thing Lucifer could think of was that the potion with Solomon had gone wrong and Lucifer needed to get to the bottom of it. 

-

“Lock her in her room. No one is to enter until I get back. Do you understand?” Lucifer asked one final time to Satan and Belphegor, the pair of them sat outside her room. He had tucked her sleeping figure into bed, placing a spell on the door to ensure no one could get in. He needed to ensure first what was happening in case another episode occurred. 

The morning and afternoon had faded by the time their session had ended, meaning Solomon would be finished from his afternoon classes. Unfortunately for Solomon, mixing up the potions would be the least of his troubles as Lucifer pinned him against the wall the second he caught sight of his white hair. 

‘What did you do to her?!” Lucifer hissed, his eyes aglow as he leaned in closer to the young boy's face. 

“Nothing. Nothing I swear,” Solomon was rolling his eyes; he was far from scared of Lucifer and it showed. “Just a little hiccup is all.”.

“Hiccup? Hiccup!” Lucifer mocked, steam ready to pour out of his nose and ears with anger. “She’s like a- like a…”.

“Like a demon in heat?” Solomon prodded the bear with his choice of words. “It’s fine Lucifer, just enjoy the fact she’s going to want to be on your cock endlessly for the next few days.”

A poor choice of words. A very poor choice of words. 

If Lucifer’s anger hadn’t been poured into Satan then the clenched fist slammed directly into the wall would have landed straight on Solomon's face.

“What did you do,boy?” Lucifer raged into demon form, a row of fire lighting up behind him as he towered over Solomon, teeth snaring. The soft Lucifer had vanished. Facing Solomon right now was a beast, a beast that was angry. And for the first time Solomon was scared of the demon facing him.

“A mix up! A mix up, alright? She’s just got more hormones in her body than intended; it will wear off in the next few days but there is nothing I can do to help - it’s Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup”.

“Golden Hell Fire Newt Syrup? But it didn’t affect me or Di-“ Lucifer stopped his sentence there.

“The potion is neutralised to only affect humans. And since humans don’t have blood like demons, the command won’t work to stop it either…” 

‘So what you’re saying is-” Lucifer grasped his jacket and hoisted him up into the air.

“She’s in her own heat, so my advice to you and the others is to just be prepared and help her because it’s going to be a long ride for her.” With that sentence, Lucifer dropped Solomon to the floor, letting him fall with a thump before racing back to the house of Lamentation. 

-

“Who does he think he is? Barking his commands at us, I swear he- oi! Are you even listening?” Satan punched his younger sibling in the arm. Belphegor, who’d started to fall asleep, slumped against the wall, jolted forward.

“Ay! What’s your problem?” Snarling slightly before pushing the long curve of hair out of his face, he said “We just gotta sit here until Lucifer comes back.” 

Even saying the name of their eldest brother made both of their blood boil. 

“Well anyway, I’m not here on babysitting duty.” Satan took hisD.D.D, turning it off before putting it back in his pocket. “Still got him blocked?”.

“Would you unblock someone who shoved you in an attic?” Belph rolled his eyes.

“Touché,” Satan nodded before pushing himself off the wall. “What do you reckon is wrong with her? She looked wrecked. Reckon something went wrong with Solomon?” 

“I wouldn’t put it past that slimy wizard… No good for nothing-“ Belph muttered before stopping, a noise from inside making them both still. The young girl was calling out for Lucifer in a confused manner, only infuriating the brothers more. 

“Why does Lucifer always get her to himself? Always giving out his commands,” Satan growled as he ran a hand through his hair. “Enough is enough, I’m not listening to his rules. Fuck him.” 

“Hey Satan, you really gonna mess with Lucifer?” Belphegor's eyes lost all sleepiness as they sparkled with mischief.

-

“Lucifer…?” She continued to call out. “Anyone?” She took a few steps outside her room. She knew she had heard voices but to whom they belonged she was unsure. Her bare feet padded along the dark corridor, following the noises that lured her. 

She was pleasantly surprised to find that when she woke up the muscle aches she thought she would have were not there. Something in the potion must work to help soothe her aches. Lucifer had undressed her from her sweat soaked uniform and covered her in her nightie. 

She couldn’t stop the flush of her cheeks after her actions this afternoon; she had felt like she’d lost all control of her body and given into the need of sexual desires - which normally wasn’t a problem, but begging Lucifer and Diavolo to ravage her in the middle of a meeting was a different story. She was searching for Lucifer to apologise for her behaviour, although secretly she knew both of them had enjoyed it just as much as she had. Today had marked a new day for someone to become part of their relationship, from seven lovers to now eight. Knowing Diavolo would not allow this to be a one time thing - which she was rather excited about. 

“Lucifer? Are you in here? I- I wanted to apologise for earlier-“ She knocked on his office door, pausing as she walked in, “Oh.” Her eyes fell on the pair causing havoc in Lucifer’s office.

“Stop being such a sloth! Faster!” Satan was unscrewing the lids of Lucifer's ink bottles before placing them back down, so when Lucifer next used them the ink would most likely spill everywhere.

“I’m going as fast as I can! Stop rushing me!” Belphegor's tongue was sticking out of his mouth in concentration, counting out five sheets before pulling one from the stacking pile of work on the desk. He continued this down until he had a few sheets of paperwork in his hand, meaning every fifth paper from his stack was missing. Both of them were going out of their way to mess with Lucifer in a way they knew would annoy him most. 

“Ah!” Satan squealed to see her standing in the doorway, dropping one of the bottles and sending ink dropping to form a thick black puddle on the carpet. “Oh, it’s you. I thought you were Lucifer.”

“Pft, how does a human girl look anything like Lucifer?” Belph gave her a warm smile and gestured for her to enter properly. “What are you doing out of bed? Lucifer told us to guard you.”

“Guard me?” She laughed, her smiling instantly brightening up their moods. “I just- I wasn’t feeling too well, but I feel better now.” She took a few steps further into Lucifer's office, carefully avoiding the ink stain.

“Good. How did it go with Solomon, kitten? Everything in the clear?” Satan took her hand and pressed a delicate kiss to it. In his moments of affection she really did question how he could be the avatar of wrath.

“All good,” she nodded, letting out a gasp to feel two arms encircle her waist and pull her close.

“That’s great news, because you know,” Belphegor was embracing her to him, his nose tracing over her neck inhaling the delicate scent of lavender and rose from her skin with a low groan, “tonight’s my night with you.” She was glad her face was hidden from view as her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Belph was the most affectionate towards her. The sweetest of kisses, the warmest of hugs, the doting affection he only gave to her, the way he’d kiss her so softly before whispering, “Good morning my sunshine.” Because in Belph’s eye, she was his sun, bringing light and life into his world. In heat he was a beast, but outside of it he was a sleepy teddy bear, who just wanted to love her with everything he had. 

“You won’t get anything if you don’t sort out this mess,” she huffed, trying to distract herself from the tingle in her thighs. She could feel it happening again, the same empowerment she had felt in Diavolo’s office, stirring stronger from the smallest of Belphegor's affection and touches. 

“No. No stop that, you’re ruining it,” Satan grumbled as she began putting the paperwork back in its position. 

“One, two, three, fou-oh!” Her sentence slurred into a moan as Belphie pressed his body up against her back, pinning her slightly to the desk. Two warm palms began teasing the back of her thighs before pressing flat against her skin and pushing upwards slowly. The thin material of her nightie, which skirted mid-thigh, crept slowly up. Belph expected her to slap his hands away, but he never expected for her to part her legs a little wider for him to witness the already wet flesh between her bare thighs. A low hum rang against her neck, one hand cupping the round curve of her ass and giving it a playful squeeze.

“I think,” came Belph’s voice, dropping into a huskier tone, “that this is enough mischief for one day. Let us retire to my room.”

“Like hell you are!” Satan snapped, pulling Belphs gaze away from her slickened folds. “She’s more aroused than usual; I should know.”. His words were followed by a smug snicker. “I bet she’s thinking of him.” ‘Him’ being a reference to Lucifer. 

“Actually,” her hands gripped onto the edge of the desk, giving in once more to the heat that burned across her body whilst her cunt clenched with need, “I was thinking of both of you and all the mess we could cause over this desk.” As she finished her words, she pressed back to rub against Belphegor's crotch which was already rapidly hardening from scent and sight alone.

“No fair, my love, it is my night with you.” He gave her ass another squeeze. As much as he hated sharing her, the thought of having her on Lucifers desk was arousing to him. Knowing Lucifer would have to see the marks that she left, smell her scent upon the table and having to know that it was him and Satan that were the reason for it. It would drive him wild, which would essentially drive both the two brothers wild with enthusiasm.

“And a night with me you will get, I promise.” Turning her head over her shoulder to catch his lips, she let his eager tongue part her lips as it sought out her own.

-

“This isn’t what I had in mind.” Satan was huffing against her neck for the third time in ten minutes,

“Just be patient, it is his night after all,” she replied as she pushed Belph flat against Lucifers desk before straddling him, whilst Satan was pressed as close as he could behind her. With one hand wrapped around his cock, she lowered herself down, still sensitive from the previous high that they brought her to with their fingers and mouths. “Oh god… Belph!” Her finger grasped at his hoodie, both him and Satan still fully dressed whilst her nightie had been tossed to the floor. 

Belph couldn’t find the words to respond, watching her sink down as his cock disappeared inside her tight heat. She was wetter than he or Satan had ever seen her, bursting and coming to life as she told them exactly what she needed, letting the lust and arousal in her body speak for her.

His fingers traced up her thighs, hands ghosting over her waist and behind, leaving a trail of goosebumps upon her skin as she whined loudly. The teasing touches and the stretch of him inside her was too much, walls pulsing as she came with him fully hilted inside her. Her jaw slackened and a cold sweat ran down the back of her spine, the salted droplets being lapped up from Satan as his hands continued to squeeze over her breasts.

“Kitten- I really need to be inside you,” he groaned, the head of his cock pressing against the left cleft of her ass leaving a clear mark of pre-release upon her skin. 

“Lube is in… the… top drawer,” she panted, letting her movements slow down as she rode out her high. This wasn’t the first time she’d gotten down and dirty in this office, having provided a very stunned Lucifer with a one-on-one private show of her and her toy collection whilst he worked. 

All Belph could do was groan and raise his hips every so often, hitting all the perfect angles inside her to make stars dance across her vision. Her movements kept on at a slow pace whilst Satan prepared himself.

“Be a good kitten and make them wet,” he commanded as he stood back behind her, letting his fingers thrust into her mouth at the same time she lowered and raised over Belph. 

Another climax hit her when Satan’s fingers began playing and teasing her puckered hole from behind before a finger, dripping with saliva, slowly pushed in. The slow rhythm of her movements allowed for Satan to let her body adjust before two fingers were thrusting inside her. Each time they pulled back, her muscles clenched sending Belph into a groaning mess at her spasming walls. 

“More,” she begged, her fingers ripping the front of Belph’s clothes as she grinded forward to feel him hit against her g-spot.

“Good girl kitten, that’s it - relax,” Satan cooed, his fingers removed to only be replaced with something much larger and thicker. 

“Relax,” Belphegor encouraged, leaning up the best he could as he pulled her down by her shoulders to kiss her. Satan slowly pushed in, her whimpers and moans caught by Belphs mouth, until finally two cocks were buried to the hilt inside her. Satan did nothing more than pull out as Belph thrusted up, sending her headfirst into another climax. Her palm scratched at the wooden desk below Belphs shoulders, leaving curled pieces of wood right in front of where Lucifer would sit. 

“There! There! Fuck- like that,” her head being thrown back in bliss at their rhythm. One would thrust whilst the other pulled back, gaining a pace that had slapping skin ringing through the office. The pace would slow when one got close, wanting to focus on her and leaving her with the ability to only say their names and think of them. Belph continued to tease her skin with faint touches, the occasional grab of her waist to guide her before ghosting over her skin once more. When her breath became a high pitched gasp, her lust filled eyes would catch his, a signal for him to help push her over the edge. Satan’s hands would tug her nipples, his sharp teeth nipping at her stretched neck whilst Belph’s thumb would rub tight circles over her swollen clit, perfectly synchronised to bring her tumbling straight over the edge of sanity.

Climax after climax hit her, tongue lolling to the side at being penetrated by both of them. It wasn’t something she was new to; being in a relationship with seven brothers meant double, sometimes even triple, penetration was a regular occurrence. But never did she feel this full, this ravenous. 

By the time Satan and Belph had spilled inside her, Lucifer's desk was soaked in fluids, paperwork and hardwood stained with her release that had soaked down Belphegor's thighs and onto the surface below. Each time Satan had thrusted into her, traces of lube would drip down their thighs to pool onto a puddle on the floor. Her scent stained the room, which Lucifer wouldn’t have minded but it was tainted with the hint of his brothers.

And to make matters worse for their eldest brother, Satan had snapped a photo whilst she was mid-orgasm. Ensuring to get his cock stretching her ass whilst Belph fucked her pussy. The photo itself was a masterpiece: Her back arched, head pressing against Satan's shoulders with her eyes tightly shut and her own hands pinching her nipples; The face of someone lost in the wild abandonment of pleasure. A caption of ‘Can’t believe you tried to hide this’ followed. 

“I think we made a pretty good mess, Kitten,” Satan panted against her shoulder, his face as red as her behind which had been slapped multiple times ather request. 

“I don’t think I can move,” she whispered, her legs purely boneless as Belph sat up to carry her bridal style.

“Hey! Where are you going?” Satan yelled, watching Belph carry her out of the room, leaving the office stained and her nightie upon the floor. 

“I told you,” Belph growled lowly, “it’s my night with her.”

-

Regardless of how fast Lucifer had run, he was too late. He stumbled into his sex-scented office. Release from her left a sticky glaze over his desk whilst scratch marks looked like a beast had clawed at them. His gloved hands held tightly onto the nightie upon the floor. The mess of his desk was an issue for another time; he would place no blame upon her. 

“You utter imbecile!” Fangs pointed out from his gums as he found Satan alone in the library in the west wing of the house.

“You saidto not let anyone in; you didn’t say she couldn’t come out,” Satan taunted, smugness plastered over his face. He knew Lucifer had seen his office from the silk material of her clothes he still clutched in his hand. He also knew he had seen the explicit image he had made sure to send him. “As I said, why did you try to hide her?”

“The potion went wrong. She’s in heat.” Lucifer watched as Satan’s eyes sparkled.

“But that’s impossible. She’s a human, how did-“ the blonde began.

“Solomon. Solomon is how.” Lucifer pushed a hand through his hair. “Where is she now?”.

“In the attic.” Satan returned to his book as Lucifer turned on his heel. “But Lucifer.” Lucifer threw his head over his shoulder, ready for a snide remark about the activities that went on in his office. “Normally I wouldn’t bother about you but, for her sake, I’d leave them be.”

“And why’s that?” Lucifer stopped and turned, crossing his arms over his chest.

Satan continued to express his smugness, his eyes peering over the top of his book. “Remember when Levi was in heat and destroyed that Ruri-chan pillow?”.

“Of course… he bit Mammon for trying to take it away”

His lips curling into a smirk, Satan put his book down. “Belphegor is the pillow.”

-

“Good morning my little star-light.” Belphegor brushed her hair out of her face, a sleepy smile on his face. His eyes still shut, the urge to fall back to sleep lulling him into the warmth embrace.

“Good morning you,” she yawned, eyes fluttering open as Belph’s strong arms pulled her close. The warmth of his skin against her and the content smile on his face was a sin of its own kind. A small giggle left her as he pulled her closer, burying her head against his chest. “We need to get up soon.” As she pressed a trail of small kisses over his heart, she smiled to herself to feel the hardness already pressing against her stomach. 

“I thought you would have been worn out after last night,” he gasped as her hand teased its way into his boxers, wrapping around his cock and stroking in a lazily manner.

“I was but-“ Her body felt rejuvenated and fresh, no muscle aches, only heat coursing through her veins. “I’m hungry for more.” A deep groan filled the attic space as her mouth replaced her hand, waking Belph and repaying him tenfold for the way he had satisfied her the previous night.

-

When she finally pulled herself out of the attic, leaving Belph still panting and breathless from the way her mouth had worked over him, she ran straight into Lucifer. Luckily, Belph had dressed her in one of his hoodies for her modesty, not that she minded.

“My dove, you really should rest. I fear you cannot leave the house in your state.” Lucifer cupped her cheek and was rubbing his thumb softly against her. “It is not safe for you”

“Lucifer, I- I’m so sorry for yesterday, I really don’t know what came over me…” A blush spread across her cheeks. Even now, as he glanced down at her, the top of her thighs became damp and she regretted the lack of underwear she had on. 

“My dear-“ He stopped, pupils widening at the heavenly scent hitting his nose She was extremely aroused. “It appears Solomon gave you the wrong potion; yours is filled with an aphrodisiac we can’t control. It should fade in a few days, but for the time being it is safest for you to stay here.”.

She nodded in response, pressing herself closer to him and letting her fingers toy with the buttons of his waistcoat. 

“Lucifer...,” she meekly whispered, leaning up to kiss him. He melted into her kiss, letting his arms hold onto her shoulders as she continued to press against him. “I want to thank you for yesterday.” Her fingers slowly unpopped a button and she began pressing her lower half against him in a silent plea as her tongue playfully darted across his lower lip. She was losing her self control in a rapid manner, whining heavily as he pulled back.

“I fear I have matters to attend to today, otherwise I would be more than happy to keep you content in the confines of my room.” He watched as her eyes sparkled with lust, a hint of disappointment forming over her face. 

“I’ll be waiting for you to come home,” she pouted as he did up the buttons she’d undone. 

-

She ate breakfast and had a bath to calm herself down before pulling out her small vibrator and withering away in her satin sheets. Is what she would have done if she had listened to Lucifer. Instead, she showered and set off to find the sorcerer who had caused all her problems, hoping to find a way for him to help calm her constant need. 

Dressed in a white summer dress, a slightly plunge top with a skater skirt and her hair down in loose curls, off she went to him in purgatory hall. It probably wasn’t the best decision to wear such a short dress but her skin felt on fire; clothes were just too restrictive at the moment. She’d cleaned her thighs before she left, making her best effort to prevent her scent from wandering demons. And all was going well until a masculine scent hit her nose. One of Beel’s team mates walked past her; he must have been to the gym as sweat gleamed off his shirtless body. The smell of pheromones hit her instantly and she felt a throb between her legs instantly ruining her underwear. The scent of her was caught by the demon, who turned whilst sniffing into the air. She had to move quickly or he’d trace the scent to her. 

With a frantic look around, she realised how far she still was from Solomon’s quarters but luckily Simeon’s room was only a few doors away from where she stood. Without a second though she raced to the room, listening as footsteps quickly approached behind her. Without knocking, she flung herself into Simeon’s room, thanking anyone and everyone that the door was open. Only, she didn’t expect to see what she did inside.

“Normie…?” Leviathan called out as she panted against the door. In the glowing light of the room were Simeon and Leviathan sat at a table, a stack of comics between them.

“Levi? Oh god, Levi, it’s you.” She took a few running steps to embrace him from behind as he sat down, sending the boy redder than beetroot. “Oh, and Simeon, I’m so sorry for barging in.”

“It is quite alright my sweet,” the angel said, smiling wholesomely at her. “You look parched. What happened?”

“Oh I just-“ she started, her eyes falling to the exposed muscles of his biceps. Beneath his cloak and visible from his black top was the clear outline of his god-sculpted body. A body that made her lose all train of thought.

“Yo, normie?” Levi pinched her hand gently to break her trance.

“Huh? Oh sorry, I just thought someone was following me. Would it be okay if I hung out here for a little while to calm down?” By ‘calm down’ she meant for her core to stop pulsing and her thighs to stop rubbing together. She was getting worse by the minute sitting with the two boys, the total opposites of each other; the demon of envy and the most angelic angel to walk the dusty pits of hell. A yin and yang she most definitely wanted to be in the middle of. “So what are you doing here Levi?” She pulled herself off him and took a seat between them. 

Levi, unable to stop the breath hitching in his throat when she walked in, could scent her before she even walked through the front door. And that was when he realised why she came running into Simeon’s room. Any demon nearby would have been able to pick up her scent with how strong it was. He also sensed her rapid heart beat, pumping and throbbing like her pulse as red tinted her cheeks the look of arousal written all over her face. 

“Levi here is showing me the ways of ‘manga’,” Simeon smiled, oblivious to the way the young girl was fidgeting in her seat.

“Normie, are you alright?” The purple haired demon asked as he watched her. He’d received a message in the group chat from Lucifer to state she was, quote, in a ‘situational state’ with nothing more. Satan had replied with a smirk emoji, leaving Levi to question what exactly was happening.

“I- I need to use the bathroom.” she stammered as the rising colour of her cheeks spread down her neck and chest, making the white dress glow atop of her skin. The more she looked between the two, the more her mind wandered into dirty territory...

“Normie, you don’t look well.” 

Both Leviathan and Simeon reached out to hold her arms. The young girl’s back arched at the contact and gripped the table edge as she stood up, unable to look either of them in the eye as she was unable to hold back the moan, the slight of touches having sent her in the deepest pit of lust and arousal. 

“Levi-“ She finally turned her head over her shoulder to meet his gaze, her eyes swimming and lost behind a clear gaze. Cheeks flushed and her lips parted, she didn’t have to say another word for Leviathan to understand. This was the state Lucifer was clearly on about. With her legs spread a little, the aroma of her arousal quickly found itself to both him and Simeon and Levi knew in that moment just how desperate the situation was. 

“Shit normie.. I-“ Leviathan scratched the back of his neck as he looked between her and Simeon, unsure of how to handle the situation. 

Simeon watched her, a familiar tension building in his stomach, a feeling he often felt around her but was usually able to ignore. But in this moment it was almost overpowering, overwhelming and he was unable to fight the strong stir of emotions inside him. 

“Simeon… I’m so sorry-“ she began and, as she turned, the angel felt himself crumple from the heated gaze that bore down at him as passionate lust took over his body. 

The potion may have had no effect on demons, but the scent alone was enough to have an impact on the angel, sending him into an aroused state.

“Do not apologise, my sweet.” Simeon took one of her hands and pressed a gentle kiss to her knuckles. “You by far smell more sweet than anything I have come across. Do not deny yourself the pleasure you desire.” He nodded at Levi who stood up to wrap his arms around her waist. “Use my room as you please.”

“Is this okay?” Levi whispered into the shell of her ear, worried about her more than anything else. Her answer came in a quick nod and her hands bunched up the skirt of her dress to expose the white silk resting upon her skin.

Simeon’s heart was racing as he sat forward, intrigued to watch Levi slowly tug down her underwear, watching the gloss of her arousal stick to the fabric before it pooled to a heap on the floor. A groan filled the room. She was unsure if it came from Levi or Simeon. 

“Please…” she whispered, spreading her legs as she bent forward, exposing her drenched cunt to both of them.

-

Eager eyes flitted between the two of them, Simeon still watching the couple. How Levi had knelt down, spreading the cheeks of her behind to gain better access to her before letting his serpent tongue flicker across her wet slit. How her arms gave out and she fell flat against the oak table, letting her hips buck against his face as he kept her ass in place whilst his tongue disappeared between her velvety folds. How she lost herself when her climax hit after only a few moments calling out for more.

“Leviathan,” she whispered so sweetly as she turned around once his mouth had pulled away from her, the same lips slicked with wetness pressing against her own as her tongue played with his, which had just brought her intense pleasure. 

“I got you.” Hushed whispers shared against her lips as she hastily undid his belt, her hand diving into the confines of his boxers to wrap around his cock, stroking it until he was fully hard, both of them almost forgetting about their audience as he pushed her down, spreading her thighs and pushing them around his waist as he lined himself up against her, taking her with no resistance as he slid into her tight heat.

It was lustful, it was a sin, but most importantly it was love. The reassuring whispers of “I’ve got you, I love you,” as Levi drove deeper into her. His hands holding her waist as he pulled her up to meet his thrusts, her legs tightly around his waist squeezing and tensing with each rock of his hips. The thin silk of her drenched underwear hanging off her ankle, swaying with each movement, almost taunting Simeon as he watched on. 

It was the soft whimpers of ‘harder’ that pulled him from his trance, shining eyes of blue meeting hers in a gaze as they stared on in wonder. Her dress pushed up just enough to bare her waist, her breasts spilling from the top half and bouncing forward with each thrust. Back arched like a bow reaching breaking point off the table, petite hands grasping at anything they could find. And, whilst he and her held eye contact, he watched in awe as she came. Her voice raising into a high pitch moans, chest rising and collapsing quickly, her body curling as they finally broke eye contact when her eyes rolled to the back of her head. Her moans were so sweet they made the angel blush. He was positive they could part the clouds and give a direct pathway to the gates of heaven. 

It made him wonder how something so beautiful and breathtaking could be such a sin.

It was that which ruined the angel. He was unable to stop himself as a hand began to palm over his erect cock in his pants. Scent, sight and sound became too overbearing for him as he gave into the heat of his need.

The air in the room had changed, Leviathan too busy driving into her to notice it. His grunts and the slapping of his skin echoed off the walls, whilst she came down from her high to fix on Simeon. Watching him as he watched her, his pupils expanding as his tongue darted out to wet his parched lips whilst he continued to touch himself above his clothes. 

By her third orgasm, Leviathan was unable to stop himself holding back, gritting his teeth as his pace began to falter. His eyes screwed shut as his jaw clenched, a stuttered groan came as he released inside her, pressing himself tightly against her to be sure he filled her with everything he had, her name hot off his lips as he leaned down to kiss her, keeping themselves together as they basked in their afterglow. 

“You did so good,” He praised, cupping her cheek as he wiped away the tears that formed under her eyes. Until finally he pulled out of her, his seed from inside her spilling onto the table beneath. “I’ll get a towel,” he said, giving her hand a squeeze before leaving the room. She would have blissfully laid against the table not moving, but the presence of another kept her from doing so. 

“Simeon…” Her voice angelic to his ears as she sat up, her breasts swaying as she stood in front of him, slowly kneeling down. “My sweet, sweet, angel…” The tan of his skin was flushed red as her eyes wandered down, his hand continuing to mess over the front of his trousers as he looked at her like a helpless lamb. “Let me.” She leaned up as she ghosted her lips against his in a way to test him, to test if he’d show any protest but instead he melted into her, letting his lips glide over hers as if that was their sole purpose. 

Her hand slowly trailed up his thighs, parting his legs as she fitted between them. Her own hand replaced his as he whined softly against her. Hands slowly unpopped the buttons, the haste from before now eased into a soothing-time stopping pace. No rush, just slow, burning desire.

“Am I the first?” She questioned, gently nipping at his lower lip as his trousers and boxers slowly came down, her hand ghosting over his erect length but not fully touching.

“Y-yes.” His breath hitched to feel her hand slowly wrap around him. Her eyes widened in shock at the length of him; the gods had truly blessed him. 

“Oh- I-“ His words were lost as his hips slowly bucked into her touch.

“Do you want me to stop?” Letting him free of her hand, she stared up at him with doting affection.

“Please-don’t,” he said, taking a deep breath as she wrapped her hand back around him, her face leaning close. 

“My beautiful angel… my sweet, sweet angel,” she cooed, letting her hand move over him in a gentle grip, savouring the noises he made. The world was completely forgotten,the two of them sharing an intimate moment as she wetted her lips before slowly taking his head into her mouth. His fingers grasped the edge of the chair, twitching as he breathed out in a stuttered breath. His mind went blank as she took him in further, pulling him into the wet depths of her mouth. Her name left his mouth like a chant, repeated like a prayer he spoke every morning and night. 

Leviathan had entered back into the room, pausing before turning and leaving the pair alone in their tender moment. 

Heat pooled in Simeon’s stomach as her lips touched the base of his cock, unable to hold back the groan as the pit inside him dropped. His eyes shut tight as white heat took over him, and then he was spilling down the back of her throat with no warning. 

She hollowed her cheeks as she swallowed his plentiful release, sucking him dry before releasing him. His taste was sweet, lingering, leaving a pleasant taste in her mouth. 

“My perfect angel,” she said, pressing a kiss to his head as his hand moved and intertwined with hers. Nothing in all of heaven had made him feel as good as she had. 

-

“She will be safe here,” Simeon’s face softened as he stared at the young girl asleep in his bed. After the events of earlier, she had passed out with a blissful face whilst the angel and demon cleaned up. “I’ve put a protection charm on the door. No one will be able to get in.”

“It’s not them getting in I’m worried about it’s her getting out,” Leviathan sighed, running his hands over his face. The two boys agreed to never speak of what had happened earlier, for an angel to allow lust to take over his actions especially from watching acts of a demon. 

“I promise you, no harm will come to her. Have you spoken to Lucifer?”

“Yes, he was so pissed she came out. But she’s like the rest of us; never listens to him,” Levi chuckled, watching her sleeping figure cosy up in the blankets. “I guess that’s why we all love her.”

“And did Lucifer explain this- her behaviour..?”

“One guess.”

“Solomon?” Simeon rolled his eyes.

“Bingo. Something about the wrong potion, her basically being in heat, I don’t know. It’s something he needs to explain in person. He was too busy yelling down the phone.”

“She is safe here, my friend. Let us wait until Lucifer comes.” Simeon reached for a comic off the table, intending to pick up the conversation from before she had come in. Only to stop when he saw wetness that they’d missed coating the cover.

-

Lucifer had gone ballistic when he arrived, all his rage was bubbling through him as he yelled left, right and center. “You disobeyed me! how could you be so reckless?” He had scorned her, towering over her with gritted teeth. His words stopped and his anger subsided as her bottom lip trembled, her eyes filling with tears as she hung her head in shame. A weak, “I’m sorry,” made him pull her into his hold tightly, showering her forehead with kisses. He knew it wasn’t her fault; he was simply worried. Worried that if another had scented her the way she was then they would try to take her. “From now on, I need you to stay in the house, okay?” he said, cupping her face as he whispered softly, kissing her gently, hoping she would understand without him saying the words to show how worried he had been. 

Lucifer took her home and straight to his room, informing the brothers not to disturb them. He ran her a bath with rose petals, resting her back against his chest as he cradled her close, whispering sweet words of praise as he washed her. That night, he cared for her, letting his fingers work her she was almost sobbing for him to fill her properly. 

-

In the morning he had to go back to work. As much as he wanted to be with her, his loyalty to Diavolo came first. This time, however, he placed an enchantment on the whole house, ensuring the girl would not be able to leave; the front door, window and back door glued shut if she tried to open them. If another demon opened them and she tried to exit, they would face an electric shock, both of them. It even included the windows; he knew Belphegor had a tendency to sneak out of the attic window. Lucifer was taking no risk or chance. The only way she could leave was if Lucifer left with her or if he lifted the enchantment.

She woke up alone, throwing on one of Lucifer's shirts. Even his lingering scent was arousing, regardless of the way he’d taken care of her in the night. The potion was ruining her. None of the aches or the worn out muscles remained, only fresh feelings and a warm glow. 

She left his room and walked along the corridor until she heard it. 

“Sweeeeeeetie,” Asmo yelled, running, well, skipping, towards her at the top of his voice.

“Asssssie,” she laughed as he picked her up with ease, using strength only a few demons ever got to see. Her shirt lifted as she wrapped her legs around him.

“I heard someoooone’s been in a little trouble the last few days,” he teased in a singsong voice, walking with her in his arms. “I’m offended you didn’t come to me first.” He pouted as she wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him in for a slow kiss.

“I’m sorry. I’m here now baby,” she whispered, letting that feeling of heat take over once more.

Asmo carried her into his room, keeping one arm around her as he ran a bath, kissing her tenderly whilst the water drew to the right heat, his hands slowly peeling off her shirt until his fingers glided over her soft skin.

“So perfect,” he whispered, letting her undo his own clothes, his trousers dropping to the floor as he picked her up and settled her into the water. He lay back with her straddling him, his mouth nipping gently at her neck as his hand dipped below the water to ghost over her thighs. “And I thought I was meant to be the lustful one,” he teased at the scent of her arousal, his eyes sparkling as he felt her heartbeat quicken. 

She didn’t have time to answer back with quick wit, instead letting his fingers work inside her until she came over them, the water splashing at the sides of the tub as she rocked gently over his until he sat up and began to push her back gently. 

“No,“ she blushed and stopped him, pushing him back down and taking his length into her hand. “I want to be on top.”

Asmo showed no sign of protest, holding her waist gently as his hands brushed up and down her sides whilst she lowered herself onto him. Whilst he knew he was skilled at giving pleasure to his lovers, that he liked to be in control, she needed this more. To let herself set the pace, the mood, the angle. She needed control more than he did at this moment. 

One arm circled her waist to keep her close, the other cupping her breast in his palm, squeezing it softly as it bounced in his hold. Her moans were captured by his mouth, a sweet kiss at first only breathing away for air., before pulling back to each other, this time tongues slipping between the velvet folds of their mouths, desperately searching for each other.

He kept her pressed against him when she came, whining so softly against his lips. His arm around her kept her close even as she tried to pull away naturally, her walls pulsing as he felt every tight flutter over him.

“That’s it, you're so good,” he cooed softly, taking his hand off her breast to brush a strand of hair behind her ear. His lips touched her ear as he shallowly rocked up against her. 

He encouraged her through another climax; he was skilled in holding off his own until finally he could do so no more. The water around them was now lukewarm as she pressed her lips tightly against his, the avatar of lust unable to resist anymore as he spilled inside her, bringing her to one final climax from the throb of his head against her cervix. 

He refused her help as he cleaned her thighs and skin with a wet cloth from the side, pressing kisses to her glowing lips. He enjoyed afterwards with her just as much sex itself; she brought him a different type of pleasure. The cuddles, the kisses, the reassurance through panting breaths, the way she looked so radiant as she curled up against him, still a little hazy and drunk off pleasure. He was good at that, making her feel so blissed out that words, colours and meaning to anything no longer made sense.

“I have a class I need to start getting ready for, sweetie.” Asmo pressed a kiss to her forehead, peeling himself away from her even though she clung after him as he placed her on his bed. “I skipped biology this morning, but it’s okay. I got a more physical lesson than R.A.D could ever teach.” He waggled his eyebrows playfully. “Here, this will satisfy you until someone’s back.” Asmo pulled out a toy that curved, passing her a remote. It was her toy, one that Asmo had bought for her when they began experimenting with different ones. He peppered kisses up her thighs before slowly easing it into her. It wasn’t as thick or as big as any of the brothers but at least it did all the work for her to satisfy her. 

She had already begun withering from it’s touch, the curve of it hitting against her g-spot with a humming vibration. Asmo stood for a few moments in silence, in admiration of her. She was beautiful. He didn’t have words for how special she was to him or his brothers, their human captivating the hearts of demons and giving them a piece of her own in return. He was just about to pull himself away to finally leave for class when his door open and in strolled-

“Solomon?” Looking on in confusion, the young girl quickly closed her spread thighs as the sorcerer came walking in as if he belonged.

“My, my.” He had a cheshire grin full of darkness, “So it is true.”

“Solomon, what are you- Get out!” Asmo took a step but a flick of the wrist from Solomon had him frozen in place. Asmo’s eyes darted to her in worry, unable to move any other part of his body. 

“My dear, I can practically sense your heat from here,” Solomon grinned as he focused his attention on her. She was softly mewling as the toy continued on a low intensity with her legs shut. “Don’t fear, I won’t touch.” He knew that if he placed a hand on her in this state, the brothers would feel it due to their pacts and it would only be a matter of seconds before Lucifer appeared. “I just want to watch.” He’d been fascinated at Lucifer's claims, that a human had gone into heat by his doing and he longed to see the effects of it in person himself. “May I?” 

The girl nodded and gently parted her thighs; she knew Solomon wouldn’t hurt her. She also knew of his ‘relationship’ with Asmo. If Asmo trusted him, then so did she. “I won’t touch her, I swear.” Solomon turned to Asmo with a soft look in his ashen eyes. With a click Asmo was free, stumbling forward slightly before stopping. 

“Sweetie… are you sure about this?” Asmo placed his hand on her knee and squeezed it slightly with reassurance. 

“Yes,” she breathed out in a part whine, the toy continuing to buzz inside her, making her stomach light, her eyes heavy with desire as they met Solomon’s. She let her thighs spread further, giving them a full view of her glistening folds as she gently gripped the sheets below. 

Solomon watched with sparkling eyes of lust as she came, quickly followed by another orgasm as Asmo cooed her softly through them, telling her how good she was. But by that point, Solomon was losing his composure. The scent of her heat was affecting him. He knew the potion she had taken had no effect on demons, but after his conversation with Simeon and the way his own body was becoming heated, he was feeling first hand that the effects could pass on to humans and other godly creatures.

“Touch her,” he commanded, peering down at Asmo as his hand moved to palm over the bulge growing in his black slacks. He would stay true to his word, he would not touch her, but he’d never said Asmo couldn’t. 

-

The flames of pleasure licked her lower stomach, a strong sensation she had only felt a few times before building inside. 

“A-Asmo-!” Her voice was wavering and brimmed to the lid with lust, her hands shaking as they grasped at his golden-brown hair.

“"Look at that, Asmo... She cums as easily as you. Just another needy little slut." Solomon's words were sharp, mocking, with a grin on his face, "The great Asmodeus, outdone by a needy slutty human. You should be ashamed."His words were followed by a harsh blow, the sound of the slap ricocheting off the walls as his hand came down onto Asmo’s ass. 

The mumbles of pleasure from the avatar of lust vibrated against her. His tongue languidly licked at her swollen clit whilst two fingers curled up against her walls, pressing over and over against the spot that was rendering her breathless and seeing stars. He wanted to gaze up, admire her body writhing in pleasure with his rose-gold eyes but the way Solomon was roughly pounding into him from behind had them rolling to the back of his skull.

The thrusts from Solomon had Asmo pulling and pushing away from her folds, her hips grinding desperately back against him in need of friction until her hands anchored his head in place to keep him where she desperately needed him. She whimpered his name, thick pools of lust beneath her eyes gazing up and meeting’s Solomon’s. His brow was knitted, his jaw clenched as he drove into Asmo, each thrust harder than the last. His perfect shade of winter eyes baring down at her was the final push she needed.

Her thighs trembled as her toes curled, gasping profoundly into the air with loud curses as every nerve inside her body set alight whilst every hair on her skin stood up. Her spine curved as she rose off the bed, thick rivulets of her arousal releasing from the build up of pressure inside her. 

The hot squirt against his mouth and hand had Asmo undone; getting her to squirt had only happened on a few occasions. He whined heavily, almost louder than her as he came, shooting thick white against his torso as it dripped onto the floor. Solomon growled lowly at the tight clench of Asmo around him, his cock heavily throbbing inside him until he found his own release. His hips pressed harshly against his ass, his cock pulsing as he came inside him.

"You're just a natural slut like Asmo here. Such messy people." Solomon chuckled, slightly breathless as he gazed down at the mess glazing Asmo's skin. The demon surprisingly went red-faced under his words. "Little sluts need to be kept under control. Who knows the trouble you'd get into?" His gaze flickered to the woman. "Must be why Lucifer keeps you on such a short leash."

Solomon grinned with a devilish smile as Asmo cleaned her and himself up, resting against the door frame as he pulled up his slacks. The potion effects seemed to have worked unbelievably well, far better than any aphrodisiac he had ever seen. The girl had been able to handle multiple climaxes, each one growing in intensity until finally it became too much. Whilst she trembled with her aftershocks, she had been able to tell him that after a few hours’ rest her body would recover and be begging for more, muscle aches and bruising all vanishing as if just a dream. 

The white haired sourcer pulled Asmo into a deep kiss before, in the blink of an eye, he was gone, disappearing into thin air at the sound of the front door opening andLucifer calling out. He had come to check she was still there. 

“I’m here,” she panted out, Asmo helping them both to dress as she climbed under the covers. She was exhausted. Lucifer appeared with a smile which quickly faded; he sensed something in the air. 

“My love, who has been here?” His question sounded more like a command as he focused his gaze on her. Asmo could feel her bashfulness at having to explain the situation which occured, choosing to save her the trouble instead. 

“Come, she’s tired.” Asmo blew her a kiss before he tightly gripped Lucifer’s arm and led him down the corridor. 

-

Asmo calmed Lucifer down, explaining everything to him. Telling him how the girl saw Solomon just as close and special to her as she did the brothers. The same applied to Simeon after Levi had told him about the previous day. And Lucifer himself knew first hand the claim to her Diavolo now held.

“As much I hate the thought of his hands on her, if she wishes to be with them as well, we must let her and respect her wishes,” Lucifer sighed. He and his brothers had to accept that she touched the hearts of many and that they simply couldn’t keep her to themselves. “I fear we must learn to share our human, or we simply will push her away…”

-

The following morning she rose and headed to the kitchen. Although she still wasn’t going to R.A.D, she tried to keep herself in the routine of getting up and ready. Only, a dull throb pulsed between her thighs upon entering the kitchen upon sighting a shirtless beel wearing low skimmed joggers. Her eyes began falling down his toned torso, abs chiseled by the gods themselves, to the mouth watering v-line that led directly to his-

"Pft! Quit your starin’," Mammon huffed, pulling her out of her trance after witnessing her eyes practically glow. He was still overzealous when it came to her, hating that he had to share and fight for her attention amongst his brothers and, now, three more. 

“I-” a near growl rose deep within her chest to witness Beel innocently licking cream he’d spilled from his deviled puff eclair off his long, slender fingers. Unable to find words, she found herself throbbing and clenching over nothing as she rubbed her thighs on the spot where she stood. All she was able to do was shoot Mammon a look. A look he knew far too well as a smug grin took over his face. 

“I could smell ya from ya room,” he said in a low growl of a voice as he stalked towards her like a predator upon prey, the avatar of greed caging her in between him and the kitchen counter. The pink of his tongue darted out to swipe across the pointed fangs of his teeth before he leaned in. “I betcha ya already dripping.” His suspicion was confirmed as she sat upon the counter, hitching her skirt up for him to witness the wet patch already staining the silk of her underwear. A small ‘please’ was all she could muster, giving into the heat surging across her body as the need grew stronger with each passing second. “I’ve been waiting for ya, to get ma time with ya, waiting to make that tight pussy feel so good that ya won’t want anyone else.”

The following few moments were a blur, her eyes held tightly shut, nails scratching indents into the wooden surface. Her mind was left blank, two fingers swirling over her clit whilst two more thrusted into her tight cunt, unsure whose hand was whose. Her body lay flat against the surface as the two brothers stood between her legs, one leg hooked over Mammon's shoulder whilst the other rested over Beels, the two of them working in perfect unison to bring her to a blissful climax before the sun had fully risen. 

-

“Look,” Mammon’s voice commanded as he gripped her chin to keep her facing the full length mirror in front of his bed. Naked, he sat with her back to his chest, her feet placed onto his spread legs with his cock buried to the hilt inside her, giving her a full show of his cock disappearing and entering her each time he lifted her up. 

His teeth caught her ear as he whispered filth, “Look how well you take me, my tight human, my lewd girl,. Cumming again? Filthy girl, ya gonna make me bust a nut squeezing me like that, that’s it, scream ma name baby.” 

He held her waist with an arm around her, using his hidden strength to lift her up and down as he thrusted deeper. The girl was in the deepest of pleasure, tongue lolling to the side with her eyes thick with rapture, her head resting back on Mammon’s chest as she let him work her body. 

A low growl reminded her that there was another in the room Beel sat watching from the side with his hand around himself, his eyes focused purely on her, watching Mammon stretching her and her perky breasts bouncing up and down. His jaw ached to be on them, his tongue ready to devour her and his cock ready to buried deep inside her. 

“My turn,” he growled, as Mammon’s hips pressed up against her, his teeth in her shoulder to muffle his cry as he came inside her. Beel blocked the view of the mirror as he stood in front, the girl whimpering at the size of him. She couldn’t lie, his cock always scared her. Like his physical build, it was huge and intimidating. 

“Wait ya turn, I’m not done.” Mammon continued to shallowly thrust as she began to tremble in his hold, clenching around him with a tight grip. A heavy groan left him, making Beel roar in anger. 

The ginger dropped to his knees. His height had him now eye level with the girl as he kissed her deeply. One of his hands began thumbing over her nipple as the other toyed with her clit, making her buck violently against Mammon. The added stimulation had her thighs quaking and, if not for Mammon for holding her up, she would have fallen sideways as she came. 

They helped her ride out the high, before Beel lifted her up and off Mammon, Mammon unable to match his strength as he huffed, watching Beel push himself into her. The girl shifted so her legs were around Beel, her arms around his neck as she clung to him. She was as light as a feather to him, him kissing her deeply as she felt Mammon stand and line himself up behind her. His cock, slicked with her arousal, together with wet fingers, pressed against her puckered hole. 

“We’re gonna fuck ya so good,” Mammon licked the shell of her ear as a finger pushed into her, Beel slowly bouncing her off his cock, both brothers as greedy as each other as they filled her, taking climax after climax and leaving her utterly speechless. It was hard to tell in that moment which one really was the avatar of greed.

-

The next day, the girl had literally fucked the heat out of her body. Mammon and Beel had sent her into overstimulation as they worked together until she saw stars and came close to passing out. 

But when she woke up in her own bed the next day, heading down to breakfast and seeing all of the brothers, no rush of arousal came to her. The potion’s effects had finally worn off. 

“Morning!” She smiled sweetly, walking in and grabbing a slice of toast off the counter. The brothers waited a second, seeing if she would pounce on any of them but it never came. Instead, she merrily chatted and took a bite out of her food. 

The girl was thankful it was Saturday so she could enjoy some free time on the weekend. 

“Well, I think I might go out, get some fresh air if anyone wants to join?” she asked, turning around and heading out the door. But a leather glove stopped her, sending her turning backwards to see all of the brothers stalking close to her, Lucifer keeping a grip on her wrist. 

“It seems, my dove, you overspent myself and my brothers this week.” Lucifer pulled her close, his hand cupping her cheek. “You’ve been a very needy girl.” 

Lucifer caught her lips as the other brothers surrounded her, each one pulling at her for her attention, several pairs of lips finding her own, several sets of hands beginning to undress her and caress her skin. 

For the first time, all seven of the brothers shared her, savouring their tiny human all for themselves. And as for getting some fresh air, that was never going to happen, since she wasn’t able to leave the house at any point that weekend, purely because she couldn’t walk the following day. 

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[binniedeactivated]

whorehouse. || 💦

➥ 𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆 | 𝐜𝐡𝐨𝐢 𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧𝐣𝐮𝐧 𝐱 𝐥𝐞𝐞 𝐣𝐮𝐲𝐞𝐨𝐧 𝐱 𝐡𝐰𝐚𝐧𝐠 𝐡𝐲𝐮𝐧𝐣𝐢𝐧 𝐱 𝐟𝐞𝐦!𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐝𝐞𝐫

➥ 𝐆𝐄𝐍𝐑𝐄 | 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬! 𝐚𝐮, 𝐬𝐦𝐮𝐭

➥ 𝐖/𝐂 |  4k

➥ 𝐒𝐘𝐍𝐎𝐏𝐒𝐈𝐒 | 𝐧𝐨, 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐝𝐚𝐭𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐟𝐫𝐚𝐭𝐛𝐨𝐲𝐬. 𝐲𝐨𝐮 𝐬𝐮𝐛𝐬𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐦. 𝐰𝐞𝐥𝐜𝐨𝐦𝐞 𝐭𝐨 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐫𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐮𝐬𝐞.

➥ 𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒 | 𝐜𝐨𝐧𝐬𝐞𝐧𝐬𝐮𝐚𝐥 𝐬𝐞𝐱! , 𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫𝐬𝐨𝐦𝐞, 𝐝𝐢𝐫𝐭𝐲 𝐭𝐚𝐥𝐤, 𝐝𝐨𝐠𝐠𝐲𝐬𝐭𝐲𝐥𝐞, 𝐭𝐨𝐲𝐬, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥!𝐠𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐨𝐫𝐚𝐥!𝐫𝐞𝐜𝐞𝐢𝐯𝐢𝐧𝐠, 𝐜𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐦𝐩𝐢𝐞, 𝐰𝐡𝐨𝐥𝐞 𝐥𝐨𝐭 𝐨𝐟 𝐧𝐚𝐬𝐭𝐲 𝐬𝐡𝐢𝐭 𝟏𝟖+ 𝐨𝐧𝐥𝐲.

multi-fandom ask requested by @light164star​ hope you enjoy this my love!

in any normal university a fraternity represents ambition, passion, and integrity amongst brotherhood. but things were different in your university.

the Sigma Chi (ΣΧ)’s were different. they stayed in this big gorgeous frat house across campus, they threw the best parties and had the best of everything. they had the best selection of everything on campus, even down to the best dining hall. they were very selective to who they admitted. well, judging by the guys you saw leave that building it seemed as if they only accepted the best of the best. the best looking guys, best athletes, the academic powerhouses, the all rounders. every guy on campus wished they were one of them and every girl wished they could be with one of them. but the Sigma Chi’s never dated anyone. that was their number one rule.

and lastly, the sigma chi was rich. not because it was full of a bunch of guys who were spoiled rotten by their parents. not because the university provided them with full ride scholarships. but because the sigma chi house wasn’t what everyone thought it was. of  course it was a house of brotherhood, but they had subscribers all across campus. including you. and the university officials had yet to know that. not that anyone would snitch anyway, they practically had everyone wrapped around their fingers. they even managed to wane off some of the security guards and professors from scoping out their territory, giving them hush money for their loyalty.

i know what you’re thinking. no -- the sigma chi’s aren’t a mafia. despite their ways they’re actually far from a mafia. they were a fraternity. they were a business. and one thing for certain, two things for sure, don’t you ever meddle in the business of the sigma chi’s. no one has ever came back from that little mistake. as far as you were concerned the victims were basically wiped off the face of the earth, complete lost of contact, even their social media accounts deleted and deactivated. no one knew what the sigma chi’s did to them but no one wanted to find out either.

anyway, you held your head low while walking towards the steps of the house. not everyone on campus knew about their little secret but that still didn’t keep you from being embarrassed about yours. you were a happy subscriber and you weren’t going to deny that. sometimes you wondered how your application even got accepted. but it did. you went into the little convenience store they held in the building, waiting for kim seungmin/kang taehyun/ ju haknyeon, either one of them were required to check you in. they worked at the house convenience store but little did anyone know the trio were the brains behind the whorehouse. they didn’t handle much subscribers themselves, but faithfully took care of admissions and payments. oh, and also check in’s. no one could get service or even have access to the whorehouse without going through them first.

the motion detector chimed indicating that they had a customer. you bit your lips looking around a bit, hoping no one walked in right after you. hoping they would think you’re just there to purchase snacks or something. with his sleeves rolled up from handling the store’s stock--coming from the back was kim seungmin. he approaches the back of the counter and does a little head tilt, indicating that you needed to show your identification. you reached your fingers into your wallet and plucked up your student identification card, sliding it on the counter. he reaches for it and opens an app on his smartphone, making sure you were a paying subscriber. lord knows they had enough people behind on payments yet still trying to receive service. even though you knew you were up to date on your payments you still gulped. seungmin never really showed much of any facial expression which scared you. just a sullen, hard expression that made everyone around him think he hated them. 

“you’re all set. sign this slip”.

he grabbed the small notepad full of paper slips he’d printed and specially designed himself, writing the date and his signature signifying that he approved your service. it was your job to sign the bottom line though confirming your consent to anything included in your service. you swiftly grabbed a pen and scribbled your signature.

“room 502. make sure you give them that or else you’ll have to leave”.

you nod and place the slip in your pocket, taking the elevator to the floor. you admit you were nervous as hell, this is how you were each visit. when you’re a subscriber you don’t know what type of service you can get. you’re just assigned to a random room and you’re promised a good orgasm-- several even--- by the time you leave. the way university was stressing you out these days that’s all you needed. your feet finally approach the door and you knock hesitantly. the door opens a bit, just enough to show his face and they grey and black silk robe he was wearing. it was choi yeonjun. fuck. you were scheduled with choi yeonjun today. there was no doubt in your mind that you’ll be fucking ruined.

“slip?”.

you fished it out of your pocket and showed him. he took it and nodded before crumbling it and tossing it in the nearby trash can. he opened the door further, you could see the dark room only illuminated by the deep red lights that lined the perimeter of the room. your heart dropped to the pit of your stomach at the sight of handcuffs, a pack of gummy worms and a vibrator sitting on the edge of the bed.

“come in”.

you nervously slipped through the crack of the door while he shuts it behind you. the room smelled like cherries, it always did for some reason. you stood there and swallowed. you could hear yeonjun faintly chuckling behind you, his hand brushing along your waist.

“you scared baby?”.

“y-yes”. you stammer. he kisses your cheek.

“you should be. take those panties off and get on all fours for me”.

“okay”. you stuttered once more doing as you were told. you came here enough to know that clothes always went on the clothing rack beside the door. fully naked you hesitantly crawl on the bed and remain on all fours just as instructed. you could hear the clashing metal of the handcuffs behind you as yeonjun undoes them and hooks them around both of your wrists and around the headboard. the cold metal ring clung painfully tight around your wrists and you gasp a little at how rough he was.  your back was now arched in the perfect bow and anything he wanted to do he could do it, your body was at his full disposal. you could feel his hand slide down your midsection and your breathing hitched. he removes it and lowers himself to the level of your face just to glare into your eyes. you stared into the abyss of his eyes in fear. he takes two fingers and rub them together, smearing the wetness he collected from you before slipping them in his mouth. he then slides it out.

“you’re not wet enough”.

and on that note he shifts to another side of the room and you heard the familiar sound of goo melt into the palm of his hand. you wince at how cold it was when he coated you with it, getting a good rub on your clit before slipping his fingers inside of you just to coat you that way. a subtle moan left your lips when he did so, unbeknownst to you that yeonjun had other plans when it came to your needy noises.

“none of that today,”. he says in response before picking up a pack of long heavy gummy worms. “that’s what these are for”. he ripped the pack open and grabbed a handful just to go over and shove between your lips. “I don’t want to hear any sounds from you today, you understand?”. you nod with the gummy treats in between your teeth. they were so thick you didn’t know how anyone could ever chew through them.

the buzzing noise of the vibrator rang behind you and your feet immediately grew cold. you couldn’t back out now. you paid for this. this is what you subscribed for. you had to take it.

yeonjun clutches your thighs and slides himself beneath you, face to face with your pussy that was practically begging for him at this point. you felt the smooth, thick grey vibrator slip past your slippery folds pushed deep inside you. in an instant you no longer knew how you were going to keep your legs in place this whole time. you started breathing hard gnawing on the gummies as hard as you possibly could. “shaking already baby? you’re going to have a hard time today”.

he steadily holds the toy, sinking it between your folds and pulling it back out slowly relishing the way your wetness coated it. moans awaited in your throat yet you forced them back down. yeonjun loved the way your pussy looked from this angle but most importantly he loved the way your clit looked. plump and glistening with lube. he softly hums and slides his tongue against it. you gasp but this time refusing to exhale.

“mmm”. he hums again and gives it another cat lick before pushing his face closer and coddling it between his lips. you decided to breathe, as shaky as it sounded at least you weren’t making any noises. but fuck you wanted to. the way he was twisting and moving the toy inside you, the way his wet tongue felt curling against your clit, you wanted to collapse. and he knew it.

he groans after pulling away from your folds with a thin spit string to follow but he couldn’t keep himself from going in for more. he ate you like a hungry tiger, each taste of you is like heaven in the coil of his tongue.  that’s what killed you the most. that’s what made your legs tremor the most. yeonjun didn’t eat pussy as if he wanted to eat pussy. he ate pussy as if he needed to eat it. and that made all the difference.

every lick sent electricity straight to his groin. the fact that you were shaking above him unable to do anything but breathe heavy and take whatever he was giving you turned him on. he thought your little lips were so soft, pretty and scrumptious. he slid his tongue around every crease and fold refusing to neglect a sector. he always had an unquenchable desire to please. your insides burned with agony. he told you that you weren’t allowed to make noise yet he ate you like this? you couldn’t take it. your breathing was already heavy and your legs were already on the verge of collapsing so if he didn’t stop within the next 5 seconds you’d be a moaning mess through the gummies in your mouth.

he fucks you with the toy a bit faster,  twisting it inside you while he flat tongued your clit prior to sucking it gently; hallowing his cheeks in the process. your eyes close and the jolts of pleasure made your tummy cave in. your heart rate soars and now your wrists were writhing desperately inside the cuffs. it felt so fucking good. god, it felt so good. your torso was on fire. his fingers dug into your innermost thigh while his tongue further explored you. he licks a particular spot that you weren’t quite fond of anyone licking, sending a bone shuddering moan through the air.

“ ffuckk! please!”.

yeonjun halts his movements at the sound of it. you mentally cursed at yourself. how could you be so stupid?

“what was that?”.

you swallowed. you agreed to keep silent. that was a bad choice. he slipped himself from underneath you and approached your face, grabbing your jaw roughly forcing his attention on him.  “answer me when I’m speaking to you”.

lord knows you wanted to. but he looked so incredibly scary like this your jaw trembled at the thought of even replying. he lets go of you forcing your head to drop back down in between your shoulders. “you don’t want to fucking listen right?”. you heard a barely audible chuckle but you knew he wasn’t chuckling because anything was humorous. “I got something for you”.

the sound of that made your heart drop. you didn’t know what the hell that meant. your mind couldn’t even grasp what it could possibly mean. all you knew was that you were handcuffed to this bed in this dark red room, your body in the position of complete freewill. after a couple of minutes more of drowning in the fear of your own thoughts the door behind you open and close. you heard not one set-- but other sets footsteps creak the floor. your eyes grew as wide as moons. little did you know though, this was all apart of their plan. yeonjun knew you wouldn’t be able to take what he was doing to you.

“since you don’t know how to shut up, I brought some friends who won’t mind doing it for you”.

squatting to your eye level was lee juyeon, another one of sigma chi’s most honorable members. he does this sly smirk before rubbing your cheek with his hand. “how you doing precious?”. your heart began to pound dangerously fast. sliding his hand through your hair was hwang hyunjin, on the other side of your face wearing the same smirk as juyeon. “damn you’ve got a pretty one jun”. he comments. if you weren’t bound to the headboard you’d run out of sheer nervousness. but you couldn’t.

juyeon grabbed your jaw and glares into your eyes steadily, almost as if he were searching for something. with him doing this you hadn’t even noticed that yeonjun and hyunjin disappeared behind you. “you have some pretty lips. you know that? show me how well you can suck my dick“.

he fiddles with the waistband of his briefs, giving you a gorgeous view of his chiseled body and you wanted to melt right then and there. however someone was groping your thighs underneath you and you realized yeonjun was back in the same position as before. and hyunjin was above him, his hands groping your ass and kneading it. he spills some lube into the palm of his hand and shoves two slendery, slippery fingers inside your ass without warning. you choked on your own spit and wince at the pain. he rubbed his clothed dick against you, biting his lips.

“have you ever done anal before baby?”.

you shudder. “nno i haven’t”.

he hums before scissoring his fingers inside you a bit more, stretching you out so his dick could fit perfectly. you’ll admit, you weren’t too keen on anal before hyunjin stuffed his dick inside you and filled you to the brim. yeonjun attaches his lips to your clit again, and juyeon rubs his dick against your lips forcing you to take him in whole. more than anything you didn’t know you’d be experiencing this. being ruined by three men instead of one.

you hummed against the shaft of juyeon’s dick at the feeling of yeonjun’s tongue licking your soft folds through and through, all the while hyunjin’s giving you soft thrusts from behind. the delicious mix of pleasure made you delirious. your tummy caved in and your thighs were trembling once again. and oh yeah, yeonjun got his wishes of you staying quiet. juyeon was filling your mouth so much a sound could barely be audible. juyeon slips his hands in your hair, jerking your head back just so he could see your mouth filled his precum. he grins.

“a subscriber of the whorehouse gets used like a whore. you like this shit don’t you?”.

hyunjin grips your waist harder and chuckles. “she can’t talk with her mouth full. she’s being a lady”.

juyeon smirks and glances down at you trying to suck him as far as you could possibly reach. “is that true? you’re trying to be polite?”.

yeonjun smirks and licks another stripe up your wet swollen clit before chiming in. “if so, shes at the wrong place. polite prissy princesses don’t get fucked and sucked this good”.

hyunjin slams a hand down on your ass, making it jiggle underneath his palm. “they sure don’t”. you groan against juyeon’s length feeling like you could pass out any second. he thrusted himself between your lips steadily loving the sloppy, messy sounds your mouth was making in the process.

“look at you...you suck dick and take it good. who taught you this?”. juyeon growls.

you softly whine, crying in response. numerous moans left your throat but it was a mystery on whether or not they’d actually be heard. it didn’t even matter though because all three of them was groaning loud enough to drown out the sound of yours. you felt like you were going to lose your damn mind being used like this. the pleasure of it all made your toes curl and body shiver. yeonjun’s wet lips were coated in nothing but you precum at this point and hyunjin speeds up the movements of his waist, snapping into you like he’d never get a chance to do it again. well, considering the system of the whorehouse he just might not. and he was making it evident.

“fuck, your pretty ass”. hyunjin groans while throwing his head back and biting his lips, slamming you back against his waist every chance he got. your ass was pretty like this, stemming down from your cinched waist it was plump and perfect from this angle. hyunjin thought he could watch it bounce against him all day if he could. you unintentionally pushed back on him leaving a hum of approval sputtering from him lips. “oh shit”. he grumbled.

“she’s fucking you while riding yeonjun’s face. shit, I like her”. juyeon licks his lips while holding your hair in up a makeshift ponytail. tears jerk from your eyes as he shoves his dick down your throat again before pulling it back out. you gagged enough to spit his precum back over his tip.

“I like her too”. hyunjin mentions, completely stopping his hips just to watch you desperately fuck yourself to an orgasm. a throaty groan became a murmur as your legs trembled and the familiar wave of electricity washed over your whole entire body. you didn’t know how much more you could take.

“she’s pulsating so hard around my tongue I think she’s about to cum”.

“she’s so cute look at her fucking herself. you gonna cream all over us baby?”. hyunjin groans.

your high pitched whine rang through the steamy atmosphere and as if your body listened to hyunjin words you did just that, your juices spilling down his thighs and waterfalls down yeonjun’s chin. hyunjin slips his fingers into the curve of your waist and fucks a bit more until your ass was filled with his cum, and the sticky contents of juyeons fluids were already slithering down your throat. your body spasmed and jerk so hard and yeonjun licks the aftershocks out of you before getting up and fucking your throat until he got a fix of his own. he grunts and roughly pulls your hair while he does so, letting his hot cum spill down your throat after he was finished. your limbs felt so weak. you wanted to just stay there and sleep. but unfortunately you had to walk back to your residence hall in this condition. it was fucking worth it though.

after you were freed from the handcuffs you could see the bruised rings on your wrist from them both. “put your clothes back on, go back to your dorm and take care of yourself baby”. yeonjun speaks just before they all vacated the room.

[smellslikemultifandomimagines]

Hey I love your content. Would you be able to do a Derek Hale NSFW alphabet please?? Thank you. I love how you write his stuff

also:

pairing: derek hale x fem!reader

warnings: smut → NSFW alphabet

headcanon 🖤

•:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:• ☾ ☼ ☽ •:•.•:•.•:•:•:•:•:•:•:•

requests are open🖤

request guidelines✨

🌻masterlist🌻

smut night masterlist 💦

A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)

(i've written a headcanon on this)

B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)

honestly i wanna say derek loves your hands

now hear me out

he loves having your arms wrapped around his back as your nails drags down his back

or when your hands reach out for him

or holding your hand while fucks into you

would love to tie them up but would secretly miss the feeling of them over his body while he pleased you

would also love when you pull his hair

C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)

fuck omg okay derek would get off on making you cum

that man would love when you cum - you'd be moaning his name, gripping the sheets, body shaking, pussy throbbing and pulsing

to make you cum while he fucked you and have you pussy pulsing around his cock

that would make him feel so good too

plus i think being able to make you cum would be such an ego boost too - like don't think that little shit wouldn't be cocky about it though hahah

D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)

oooh bitch okay so we all know how werewolves have increased senses

and so i feel like he'd use it to his advantage

he'd be able to hear the way your heart beats faster when you're getting closer to the brink of orgasm

or he'd be able to smell your arousal dripping off you and he'd use that to tease you - this could be by running his finger up your thigh, squeezing your ass

E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)

i mean it's literally cannon that he's had experience before lmao

so that being said, derek would know how to please a woman

F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)

i think it's hard for him to really choose one specific position?

like he'd like lots of different positions tbh

but one might be when you're on your back and your ankles are on his shoulders while he fucks you

G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)

okay so i know derek is the most serious guy but that doesn't stop him from having fun during foreplay

or when he's being rough with you - when you giggle at teasing or him tickling you slightly, it comforts him bc he knows you're doing okay

H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)

i dont really think he cares about that tbh

like i'd like to say he's groomed but idk

I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)

derek's not really into pda, so any alone time you guys get is when he loves to hold and kiss you

and so during sex i think he'd love to hold your hands or hold you close ya know

J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)

derek would get himself off when he knows you're not in the mood

he'd hate to be one of those partners that expects their significant other to get them off every time they were horny or have the view that just because they're together it means they have to do it all the time

we love a respectful king

K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)

ugh would 100% begging and light bondage

to have you pleading for him to let you cum or to even touch him would drive him wild

would be such a dirty talker too oh my lord

would love when you're in charge

L = Location (favorite places to do the do)

his loft lol and that's it

his car if you're lucky

like i said, he's not that big on pda so i can't really imagine him fucking you in semi-public placs

but the rare exceptions would be if you were seriously misbehaving and teasing him lol

M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)

derek would love seeing you fight!!

seeing you destroy the monster would make him have that 'that's my girl' thought ya know

you'd be so focused and using the combat moves derek taught you

awh he'd also love you when you do little things for him

like make dinner or buy him something nice (like a shirt or something)

or even if you did the grocery shopping for him bc there's so little food in his loft omg

N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)

i think derek is really good at knowing your limits which would result in you rarely having to use the safe word

so basically anything that would push you too far tbh

O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)

would be the king of pussy eating!

derek would never expect you to give him head (especially during the first few times)

but oh my he would die happily whenever you did

P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)

okay so i think when he eats you out, he'd be slow and really wanting to take his time with you - you've got all night so what's the rush?

but fucking you is a different story

he'd be rough - fast and hard and would love changing positions a lot too

Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)

these would be either for 1 of 2 reasons

1 - you're misbehaving so he fucks you hard in a public bathroom or even his car in the parking lot to each you a lesson

2 - when you look so damn good, especially if you two were going out for a group dinner or something that requires you to get al dressed up

R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)

both of you would be up for experimenting

but he would suggest going over ground rules of what you absolutely do not want to try so he knows not to suggest trying

i suppose he'd the type to try things in the moment too

like there'd be one time where he blindfolded you for the first time bc he just thought of it

you were okay with it, of course, but it's things like that that makes sex with derek really exciting

S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)

um okay but have you seem his normal stamina???

that man would go for hours and not get the least bit tired

derek would love to see you all fucked out and exhausted ahah

T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)

i'd say he'd experiment with toys too

wouldn't be a fan of using them all the time (besides the obvious handcuffs and blindfolds lmao) but would still be up for it

U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)

he'd be such a bitch when he ate you out

would stop right before you're about to cum and ask how good it feels before going back to eating you out

that little break only causes a stronger orgasm for you which of course he knows - derek would be so smug about that too lol

would also perceive you in a nice dress (as mentioned before if you guys were going out to a nice dinner or something) as you teasing him

V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)

not loud - i'd imagine low grunts and maybe a louder moan when he cums

W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)

derek hale is a switch

he would love the power balance between you both

he'd love to be the one to dominate you, but would 100% love when you do that to him

ahh omg and would secretly love when you tease the hell out of him

X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)

i wanna say pretty big lol 👀

like i dont think we should be surprised lmao

Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)

high but not ridiculous you know

Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)

sweetie would love to cuddle you afterwards and play with your hair

would also fall asleep by doing that too lmao

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[cherryyharryy]

please write something about Harry overhearing the reader’s friend tell her that Harry doesn’t spend time with her that she deserves someone better they hang up b4 the reader can say anything like angst to fluff

Thank you for requesting!

This is 80's harry lol

WC: 2.4K

Harry pauses the music on his Walkman, slipping the headphones off his ears to rest around his neck while he fiddles with the key to his apartment.

She had spent the night—his angel. It had been quite the set up, since she still lives at home with her parents while finishing college, a little white lie was passed around to cover her absence. Harry wasn’t a secret by any means, but her parents weren’t the most open minded, and a small fib was easier to handle than trying to rehash the same discussion of y/n being a grown woman. It was hard enough for her to get their approval for college...one mountain at a time.

Harry’s ears burn as he sets the groceries down in the kitchen, the thought of her still tangled up in his sheets beckoning him back to his room, is enough to drive him wild. He doesn’t catch himself zoning out until the phone rings. He untangles his music off his shoulders and yanks the phone off the wall, but y/n has beat him to it, her soft morning voice greeting Caroline before Harry can utter a word.

His brain is too slow in making the connection that he should hang up. That he shouldn’t eavesdrop on his girlfriend’s private conversation. That he owes her the respect that her parents never give her. But he hears his name, specifically, he hears Caroline ask y/n how last night was, so the phone stays glued to his ear.

“Amazing,” she purrs, and Harry’s stomach flips. “We did it like, three times.”

The girls giggle, and Harry shuffles on his feet with a veiny blush spreading all over his body. He can imagine y/n draped in his sheets, phone cord wrapped around her fingers, just a few steps away from him

“Better be nothing short of amazing,” Caroline says, “with what little time he gives you anyway. Ugh, if Tony ever left me hanging as often as Harry, I’d dump him so fast.” She smacks her gum into the phone and Harry flinches. “He tried to ditch me one time to go see Scarface with Rob, and I was like, hell no, you’re taking me skating like you promised. Honestly y/n, you can do better. You’re surrounded by college boys, go find a future doctor.”

The phone almost slips from Harry’s hand, but he catches it and hangs it back on the wall, just in time for his entire world to start crumbling to his feet.

Did he really not spend enough time with y/n?

How long has this been a topic shared between them?

And why hasn’t she said anything before?

Harry stands in the middle of his kitchen, immobilized. He can’t lose her, especially not to something he can fix. She’s been his girl since they were sixteen, there’s too much history between them, or so he thought.

He files through the memories he has of them together, trying to quantify them, trying to see where he started slipping.

Maybe it’s when he took over his dad’s business? But she knew how demanding it would be, and always supported him. Or maybe it’s because they don’t go out as much? Between him managing an appliance store, and her working towards a bachelors, they often opt for nights on the couch watching SNL reruns.

His mind is foggy, and he doesn’t catch his bedroom door creaking open.

“H?”

Harry startles back to present, gripping the counter as y/n emerges from his room wearing nothing but his t-shirt.

“You okay? Look like a deer caught in headlights.”

“Mm, no, fine.”

“I heard you come in a bit ago.” She flicks her eyes over his kitchen, looking for the breakfast he had promised to make almost an hour ago.

“Didn’t want to be too loud.”

“Oh, alright.” She smiles, attempting to diffuse whatever awkward tension has settled in his home. “Well, cook away! I can help too.”

He grabs her wrist before she reaches the fridge. “No, I’ll make it for you. Go back to bed.”

“You sure?”

He nods, forcing a smile.

She peers back over her shoulder twice on her walk back to his room, hoping to figure out what’s going on, but learns nothing.

As soon as his door shuts, Harry flies around his kitchen, grabbing what he needs to make the fastest breakfast in the world.

He’s going to spend every free second he has with her, and doesn’t want to waste any if he doesn’t have to.

***

Harry knows he’s borderline annoying. And he knows his actions are beginning to appear creepy, if not bizarre. He tags along with y/n everywhere she goes now, even at the doctor where he almost followed her back to her exam. She gently placed her hands on his chest and told him that she would rather the doctor do the job, promising she’d be out in no time.

She’s been tiptoeing around him too, not sure what to make of his new routine of gluing himself to her side, hoping it will wear off and things will go back to normal.

But she waits and she waits, and normal never resurfaces.

“H, baby, I can’t concentrate with you so close to me.”

Harry looks offended, slipping his reading glasses off his nose and closing the book he was halfway through, giving her his full attention when he asks what she means.

Y/n peers around the library, not wanting to have this discussion so publicly, but too keyed up to wait any longer. “I’ve just noticed that you’ve...been a little clingy lately? More like a lot.”

“I just wanted to spend more time with you.”

“You’re picking me up, and walking me to my classes—”

“Thought that was nice?”

“You don’t even go to this school. Listen, the sentiment is nice, but I’m starting to feel a little suffocated.”

Harry bites his cheek so hard he draws blood. “And what did Caroline have to say about that?”

“What?”

“I’m sure that nosy friend of yours had a lot to say about me when you brought this up.”

“Excuse me!”

“Quiet, please,” one of the staff members shushes y/n, “Or I’ll have to ask you to leave.”

Y/n ignores the snickers from a table of girls nearby, recoiling her embarrassment and turning it to anger. Her voice, although lowered, now drags out of her mouth in sharp tones. “What the hell are you talking about?”

“I heard everything, that morning Caroline called my phone to talk to you about how crummy of a boyfriend I am.”

That morning, now a month ago, is hardly a memory in y/n’s head. She fights around for details of the conversation, but comes up empty handed. “I still don’t know what you’re talking about, and frankly, I don’t care.” She starts closing all her books and gathering her school work to shove into her bag.

“Where are you going?”

“Home.”

Harry blinks, fumbling for his next question as y/n hurries across the library. He’s quick to catch up with her, waiting until they’re outside where they don’t have to whisper. “Don’t walk, I have my car.”

He reaches for her shoulder but she shrugs it off. “I’m going home. My home, not yours.”

Harry freezes on the sidewalk. She continues on her way until she disappears around the building. A few students yell out at Harry, making fun of the guy who, from a distance, just got rejected. He flips them off and heads to his car, beating the steering wheel all the way back to his apartment.

***

“You’ve been studying an awful lot lately,” y/n’s dad comments from across the dinner table. “Do you have a big test coming up?”

“Hm?”

“You spend the night with Rayna almost every weekend.”

“Oh, uh, yeah. We have a lot of tests.” Y/n spoons a bite of mashed potatoes into her mouth, thankful neither of her parents went to college. It’s allowed for more stretched lies when she sleeps over at Harry’s. “Like a lot. Every week.”

Her mother hums from her seat, nodding to save her spot in the conversation while she finishes chewing. “We told you how hard it would be. But you wouldn’t listen.”

“That’s not—” “Shelly’s daughter just got a job as a receptionist, over at that dental office by the mattress store.” Her dad points at y/n with his fork. “You could ask her if she knows of any other places looking for a girl.”

“I’m not going to have a job where the requirement is girl.”

“You’re taking this too liberally, dear. Oh Lord, John, that school did just what you said.”

“No—”

“That’s what happens, girls go off to try and get a degree...and what for? What are you going to do when you get married and have kids?”

“Kids!?”

Her mom scoffs. “Well you’re not going to be able to raise children and work.”

“Are you two serious right now? It’s 1985, not fifty-five! Women go to college, they work, some of them don’t even get married! Or have kids!”

“When you were little you couldn’t wait to be a mom. Now all of a sudden you’ve changed your mind. That never would have happened if we hadn’t let you go off to that damn school.”

“Yes I’ve changed my mind! If it hadn’t been for that school, I never would have realized that it’s my own mind to change. It’s my own life to do whatever I want with, not yours.”

“Well I am—” Her dad is interrupted by the door bell echoing outside the kitchen. “One minute. We’re not done with this yet.”

Muffled voices stagger from the front door while y/n pushes the food around her plate. She hopes that whoever is at the door keeps her dad busy for a while. She knows her mom won’t have these types of conversations without him, which just showcases the lifestyle she is adamantly trying to avoid. One that was passed down to her parents, but y/n is determined to squeeze herself out of that narrative no matter what.

“Y/n!” her dad calls, “you have a visitor.”

Y/n peers up at her mom, both women exchanging confused glances before they go see who had arrived.

“Oh,” y/n says dully, “It’s you.”

Harry stands with his hands shoved into jacket pockets, peering at each family member before speaking. “Hey, uh, I was hoping we could talk. Privately.”

Y/n nods, and leads the way back through the kitchen to the back porch. She’s not really in the mood to be talking to him, or having this conversation, but right now he’s a free ticket away from her parents, so she accepts.

They sit halfway down the steps, just like they’ve done a thousand times before. Her on the right, him on the left. Usually his arm is thrown over her shoulder, and their knees bump together until Harry pulls her in so close that not even a breeze could fit between them, but now they’re both collected on their respective sides of the wooden step.

“Heard the new Prince song?”

Y/n rolls her eyes. “It’s been a week.”

“Exactly, a lot’s happened in a week. Prince came out with a new song, Michael Jordan’s rookie of the year, and there’s gonna be a Rocky four.”

“Did you come over to talk about everyone else’s good news?”

Harry sighs. “We’ve never gone a week without talking. Ever.”

“Well you really hurt my feelings.” She turns to look at him, tears welling up in her eyes. “I mean, you don’t even trust me, so you listen in on my phone calls—”

“That’s not—no. I picked up when you did.”

“But you still listened.”

“Okay yeah, but only because I heard my name.” He shrugs, a timid smile playing on his lips. “Wanted to hear what you thought about me.”

“I tell you what I think all the time. I’ve never kept my feelings secret from you.”

“It’s different.” He pulls his hands from his pockets and runs them through his hair, tugging on fistfuls of curls out of frustration. “But then when Caroline said all that, ‘bout me not spending enough time with you, it killed me.”

“That’s what this is about,” she sighs, more to herself than to Harry as the memory of that morning resurfaces in her mind. “You dork, what about what I said back?”

“I hung up. Didn’t wanna hear anything else after that.”

“I told her how wrong she was. How we spend lots of time together.”

“You did?”

“Mhm. She’s always bragging about her and Tony, like they’re the first two people to date ever. I totally rubbed our relationship in her face.”

Harry’s surprised by the gleam on his girlfriend’s face, and tries not to laugh. “What else did you tell her?”

“I dunno.” She shrugs, suddenly shy. “Can’t remember.”

“How convenient.” He nudges her knee with his, and she bumps him back.

Y/n exhales, dipping her head back to squint at the stars peeking out from a cloudy night. “My parents are driving me crazy.”

“They always drive you crazy.”

“Yeah but, more than usual. I got spoiled staying with you on the weekends.”

Harry hums, reaching his arm over to pull her into his side. “Maybe it shouldn’t just be weekends…”

“They would know something’s up if I stayed over on weeknights.”

“No, baby, I mean permanently.”

“Like moving in together?”

“Why not?”

She chews on her lip, trying to keep her smile hidden. “I don’t know...that’s a big deal. It’s a big step.”

“We can think about it. No rush.”

“It would be nice. To see each other whenever we wanted.”

Harry tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Wouldn’t have to ask your parents permission for anything.”

“Yeah…”

“Just me.”

“Hey!”

“I’m kidding, angel.” He kisses her forehead and takes her hand, helping her up.

Y/n’s parents are in the living room when the two are back in the house, and just the thought of continuing her evening here lights a fire under y/n.

“I’m going over to Harry’s,” she announces.

Harry drops her hand, just as surprised as her parents.

“Excuse me?” Her father turns the t.v. off and straightens in his chair. “I don’t think so.”

“Well I think so,” y/n defends. “Come on, Harry.” She takes his hand and tugs him towards the door.

“Harry!” Her mother protests.

He looks over his shoulder just as he’s being led out the door. “Oh, you can call me Rayna.”

[river-bottom-nightmare]

"you were missed, you know.” the voice is light, balancing on the edge of airy like a coin on its rim, in a way only careful practice yielded. so jason whirls around, faster than he normally would in a neatly-pressed suit and loose dress shoes. 

there’s a woman, close cropped red hair swinging into her face and pulling at the corners of her mouth until her expression is as severe as her form. there’s a scar on her jaw and, oh, the memory tumbles into his head as if pushed. kate kane, proof that vigilantism is genetic, once tugged jason into into her side and pulled him away from a particularly leering investor at function. the bite of her nails on his skin was a thousand times sweeter than the man’s smile.

she smirks. “hi.”

“haven’t seen you in a while,” jason responds, attempting casual and instead tripping, falling into his crime lord persona, since he doesn’t know how else to interact with people when he’s jason peter todd-wayne. 

“not since you died,” kate remarks and damn, right for the gullet. “you’ve grown up.”

jason shrugs, suddenly feeling thirteen years old again, suddenly feeling all of four feet, eight inches in the face of her candidness. “time’s funny like that.”

she eyes him carefully, trying to fish for the truth in what she believes is a lie wrapped in a careful quip. jason doesn’t blame her: he’s cultivated quite a reputation for himself. but he stripped the sarcasm from his words before he spoke them, and their rawness is shrouded in the bubbling champagne and crystal chandelier around them, but it’s no less present for anyone who knows how to peel the veil back.

“you were missed,” she repeats, satisfied with his answer. “not sure anyone’s told you that since you’ve come back. your family’s a stubborn bunch. i just wanted to make sure.”

“make sure i knew i was missed?” jason clarifies, feeling a little foolish, because dick wouldn’t beg to save his life but there were a few times that his words came close to pleas, and tim had made it clear how much he’d upheld the pedestal he’d put jason on, and alfred had actually told him that to his face. 

but this was the first time he found himself truly believing those familiar words. he hadn’t known kate, not at all. and yet, she nodded, clapped him on the shoulder once, twice, then left, completely unaware of the pit of resentment she’d carved out of jason’s stomach and thrown on the ground until jason felt like he’d slip on it if he moved, if he breathed.

she didn’t look back, but jason’s eyes didn’t stop following her until she was out of sight.

*

"you were missed, you know.” jason doesn’t startle, his training is etched into every scar decorating his skin, and there are times that he grips and holds onto those scars like a lifeline. he’s far too practiced to flinch, but he’d be lying to himself if his heart didn’t skip a beat.

he forgave himself in the next second, though. cassandra cain could make men much more experienced than him recoil. she appeared soundlessly, and folded down beside him with a grace that jason hadn’t seen anywhere outside his family. the amount of space she left between them, the relaxed posture that left visible tension cording through her arms like pulling steel taffy, the tilt to her body that made jason automatically want to open his mouth and let his tumultuous thoughts come out as an oil spill: right now, cass had dick grayson’s brushtrokes all over her.

“dick put you up to this?” 

cass shook her head, then bit her lip in a considering movement. jason wondered if he’d practiced, because bruce had long since broken that dangerous habit out of his children. 

“i am still working on comfort. assurance,”  she said, rifling through the words like flash cards, picking the most accurate ones. “i thought i’d practice.”

“oh? and why exactly do you think i need comfort.”

“i overheard your argument,” she admitted, “with bruce.”

“i didn’t think anyone was there.”

“i didn’t mean to,” she said. “sorry. but i heard what you said.”

jason scoffed. “prove me wrong. one step forward, two steps back with that dense motherfucker.”

“sign of protection,” cass said. “not distrust.”

out of everyone to say that to him, cass was probably the least likely. jason had thought she, of all people, would be on his side after he found the microchip in his helmet. she, of all people, would value independence after being owned for so long.

“by the time he found you, you were dead. and he missed you more than anything. he will never let that happen again.”

“oh yeah? privacy mean nothing to him? i know he’s crazy about this stuff but come on. there’s a limit.”

“you are not relying on him because of this.” cass stood up, stretching her back, though jason was sure she really didn’t have to. “he is relying on you. let him.”

*

“you were missed, you know.” 

“what, speaking from personal experience? i ain’t you, west.” jason could feel the gentle thrum of electricity behind him, making his hair stand on edge. two steps backward, and he’d be pulled into that void, that black hole of energy, that swirling vortex of pure power condensed into something human-shaped.

except he wouldn’t. it was just wally. just dick’s best friend joining him outside on the balcony. jason didn’t know how dick and tim could stand to be around speedsters willingly, for fun.

“i mean, sort of,” wally shrugged. “but me and you had very different experiences.”

“yeah, west, i’m not sure who else has been stuck in the fucking speedforce.”

wally snorted, an if only you knew hidden in plain sight. jason decided he really didn’t want to know. “i mean there’s that,” the speedster concedes, “but also, everyone forgot i existed. that didn’t happen with you.”

“you sure about that?” 

“hey,” wally eyed him, his eyes suddenly sharp. “don’t start that shit. i was erased from the memories of everyone i loved. you did nothing but stay in the memories of your family.”

“now i know we’re talking about two different things.”

“jason,” wally sighed, and the sheer exasperation pouring off him made jason want curl his fingers, bring them up for a swing, taste the bite of pain that would prick at his knuckles, nevermind the fact that wally would dodge anyway. “don’t do that.”

he turned to face the speedster, arms crossed deliberately over his chest. “where the hell do you get off acting like dick?”

“you’re more like dick than you realize,” wally said, “and i spent half my childhood dealing with his moods. actually, i still do.”

“do you have a point?” jason snapped, starting to get irritated. he wasn’t sure why. he’d spent his entire life one one end of a scale, dick grayson on the other. he’d always tipped his end down. this was the first time someone was telling him the scale was even.

“just because your family didn’t mourn the way you wanted them to,” wally said, “doesn’t mean they didn’t mourn you.”

“fuck you.”

“they loved you. and they missed you,” wally continues, steamrolling right over jason in a way most speedsters were prone to do. “there’s no minimum requirement for loss. no ‘if you didn’t do this, then you didn’t grieve me.’ that’s not even a situation, ever.”

“so that makes everything bruce did okay?” jason sputtered

“not at all. god knows i disagree with bruce on more things than i tolerate. but this is one thing you can’t fault him on.”

it wasn’t that easy, though. jason wanted to scream it at wally’s face, it wasn’t that easy. it wasn’t about whether bruce loved him enough,,,,except maybe it was. jason wanted bruce to have loved him enough to make a difference in gotham. jason wanted bruce to have missed him enough to change things, because change meant that bruce had been so hurt by his death that he refused to let it happen to anyone else again.

bruce had made a vow after his parents died. the fifteen year old inside jason was begging bruce why he hadn’t been afforded the same devotion. jason was his son.

“just something to think about,” wally said, then stepped backward, making to go inside where dick was calling him. “you were afforded the luxury of coming back with a place left empty in your family for you. you didn’t have to make it, like i did.”

“being dead, then coming back wrong isn’t a fucking luxury,” jason snarled.

with a shrug, wally turned, a little faster than the average human, lightning sparking at his heels as he left jason alone on the balcony. “depends on your definition of wrong.”

jason get therapy. please. also happy deathday

honestly i couldn’t decide whose side of the argument i was on, jason’s or wally’s.

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