#every other companion: ‘You didn’t give in to the desire demon???’

[ziracona]

I didn’t know literally all the companions you can take to the Fade in DA2 sans Anders will sell you out and try to kill you and their friends for a demon deal I’m losing my shit. I knew Merrill did bc she did it to me but apparently anyone but JustAnders will ditch your ass to make a deal with a demon and I’m absolutely going insane

[kitten4sannie]

*slams door open for the seance* I am going to throw my two favorite sans together - demon cat boy. Imagine San as a nekomata, a demon cat with two tails, who’s been sneaking around humanity for a good century or two. He’s had his tricks and pranks with humans, always wandering, never staying in one place too long.

Until he meets you.

There’s just something about you draws him to you, and before he knows it he’s made your home his home. If you’re suspicious of the fact he has two tails, it doesn’t show much, just that you make sure to pet each tail with equal amount of love.

San loves the fact you praise him and spoil him, and he takes full advantage of your affection. He’s a cuddle whore, always in your lap kneading away in happiness with loud purrs.

But then he hears you one night, in your room, door closed to keep him out. He knows you’re getting off in your room, writhing on your bed, trying to imitate the satisfaction that only a lover could give you. And oh the sounds you make. So beautiful. And he can’t help but imagine what kind of sounds you’d make beneath him as he’d ruin you over and over again through the entire night.

San was always good at having patience, but now? With him palming his cock, tail twitching, as he listens to you through the door? His patience has worn thin, especially since it’s been quite a while since he’s slept with another being. And besides, it was only considerate of him to return the love you gave to him, right?

(Anyway just a thought I thought you’d might enjoy. Congrats on your 3K milestone! 🤭)

roo !!!! OH MY GODDDDD. i’ve told you before and i tell you again: you are a geniusss for this idea like you’re out here playing 4D chess while everyone’s still trying to figure out checkers sksk like holy shit nekomata san ….. demon !! cat boy !! sannie !!! me and the spirits are all staring at each other in disbelief rn hdjshd anyways i hope you enjoy :3 <333

⛧ seance smutfest ⛧

w.c: 2.7k

warnings: dom! san (he’s a little meanie in this), sub! fem reader (has a few tricks up her sleeve <3), san has cat hybrid/demon characteristics, he also has two cocks btw *cough*, pet names, praise, teasing, some outright disgusting romantic behavior (and a few L bombs??? *gasp* lesbians <3 no i’m jk sksjh i wish 😔), like one cat pun okayyy, kissing, possessiveness, olfactophilia, brief almost mutual masturbation, oral (receiving), squirting, double penetration in one hole (i mean…i had to yk?), creampie, cum kink idk

Masterlist

Just like every other night, you sat in your living room watching a new series on some overpriced streaming service with your dear companion curled up with his head resting on your lap, enjoying each other’s company in comfortable silence. You found yourself moving your hands through his obscenely soft jet black hair for what seemed like hours, giving the purring demon’s shifting ears and dual tails the occasional loving stroke.

You enjoyed physical touch as much as the next person, but San was a different breed. He enjoyed it so much, he couldn’t keep himself from reciprocating in order to show his immeasurable appreciation and desire for you. That explained the deep, reverberating purrs that were coming from his chest, the coy little look he was giving you past his long eyelashes from below, his pink lips parted like he was waiting for you to say or do something. What, you didn’t know. Kiss him, maybe. Or tease him, perhaps. San wasn’t even quite sure what he wanted himself, but what he was sure of, was that he wanted to keep massaging your soft, bare thighs, especially since he finally managed to wiggle his way up underneath your sleep shorts.

Once the show lost its grip on your mind, you were suddenly distinctly aware of the way San was kneading into your upper thighs, his fingers getting dangerously close to your bare cunt. Was he just an adorable demon kitty getting lost in the moment or was he being naughty? Regardless, you began to get worked up over it. 

When San slowly closed his eyes again from how warm and relaxed his body felt, you subtly squeezed around the base of one of his tails for only a moment, encouraging a light, throaty moan to leave San’s mouth. You smiled innocently down at him, despite the prolonged throb you felt in your core. “Are you feeling good, San?” you asked sweetly, about to do it again when the demon’s tail curled around your wrist, the other one gently grazing your chest. 

 “T-too good, mortal,” San mumbled, his cheeks flushing with color, his dual-colored eyes finding solace in your equally flustered disposition. “Y’know how sensitive my tails are.” 

“How does it make your body feel?” You bit your bottom lip, running your fingers over the tail that began to drift down your chest, familiar with the pheromones he could release at any moment, wanting them to envelop you.

“Warm,” he replied simply, staring you down quite intensely, a small, pleased smile on his face, his fangs just barely visible past his curled lips. He knew what you were doing and what you clearly wanted, but he would wait to confront you for now, instead releasing pheromones that made the both of you develop an instant body and head high, like you were experiencing the effects of a body-altering fever. 

“I…think I’m going to lay down for a bit, Sannie. I’m feeling a little overheated all of a sudden,” you sighed, gently pushing San off of you and standing up, unconsciously adjusting the crotch of your shorts, knowing internally how wet you were already. 

San knew too, of course. He didn’t even have to see it for his own eyes. He could smell it. Your dripping arousal, just asking to be lapped up.

Shifting from one foot to the other, you pressed your thighs together, giving him a weak smile, the throbbing you felt almost becoming almost impossible to ignore any longer. “Why don’t you watch that one baking show with all the kitties that you like…to, um, keep yourself busy?”

San sat up from his relaxed position on the couch, letting out an inconvenienced meow. He was already so hard, mostly due to laying his head on your thighs. Your soft, soft thighs. He pressed his hands into the cushion below him, instinctively kneading it. “Kat’s Kitchen?” he asked, his head tilting to the side.

“Yes, watch that, okay?” You swallowed, clearing your throat. Even though it was perfectly normal to get aroused over such a thing, this time around, you were absolutely drenched, so you couldn’t help but feel like a pervert, unsure if San was just being his unsuspecting, cute hybrid self or if he was purposely trying to initiate something with you.

San watched you walk away with interest, momentarily deciding to turn on the show he loved so much. He sat there for a while, satisfied with the cute cats zooming around and playing together on screen while their owner put a cake in the oven and instructed the viewers on how long it should bake. A sudden overwhelmingly sweet aroma drifted into his nose, causing it to twitch and his pupils to grow to the size of marbles. 

“Y/N…” He climbed off of the couch and headed towards the source of the scent, which just so happened to be your bedroom. Hearing soft sounds of pleasure slipping out past the cracked door, San pushed his face into it, causing it to open a bit more and allowing him to see you in all your glory — fully naked and covered in a light sheen of sweat, your legs fully spread open with a vibrator pressed directly into your swollen clit, while earnestly finger-fucking your squelching cunt. 

“T-typical lust-driven mortal…” he stuttered to himself, unaware of how red his cheeks were, or how hard he was breathing, hardly noticing that he was already grinding himself against the doorframe, more and more beads of pre-cum staining the front of his sweatpants the longer he watched you pleasure yourself. 

“Wanna cum…” Huffing and blowing a bit of hair out of the way, you slid the vibrator into your aching cunt, working your clit with two digits. 

“Fuck, Y/N…” San groaned and gripped the doorframe tightly, routinely dropping his hips and desperately thrusting upwards into the sleek wood, wishing he was inside you instead. 

“San…fuck, don’t stop,” you moaned out, hastily dropping one of your legs down against the bed, pushing the toy further in, your fingers starting to cramp. “Fuck me, please, fuck me harder…” 

The demon’s fluffy ears rotated individually like satellite dishes that were on two opposite frequencies, his hips slowly ceasing their movement. That was basically an invite, right? And if you wanted him so bad, then he might as well give you a reason to moan his name again. 

You didn’t even notice San’s presence until he was on the bed and in between your legs, his warm hands massaging into your thighs and his mouth near your pussy, turning red at the sight of his clear desire. His friendly, always curious look was replaced with an intense, unwavering gaze, his mismatched eyes sharp and focused solely on yours. 

“Y/N, I heard you calling for me…” He squeezed your thighs, pressing his cheek to the inside of one of them, nuzzling it lovingly. “Will you let me show you how good it feels to be loved by me?” 

Blushing, you gave him a sheepish smile, eventually reaching down to slip your fingers into his sleek black hair. “Show me, San.” 

-

“Show me, Y/N,” San said in a soft, muffled voice, his glistening lips and tongue on your clit, his fingers locked in an aggressive ‘come hither’ motion inside your pulsing hole. “Let me see the way you fall apart for me.”

“Sannie, it’s coming out, oh my god, I’m, fuck–” you cried out, tossing your head back, your body twitching and shuddering as you catapulted head-first into your orgasm, coating San’s tongue and fingers with your squirt. 

“Mmm, that’s my good girl.” San took a deep inhale of your wet heat, his nose grazing over your extremely sensitive clit, rubbing your wetness around with his fingers, finding your small whimpers satisfying enough for him to begin purring. “Fuck, you smell and taste so good, baby, I can’t get enough.” He began to lap at your clit with his rough tongue, his reverberating purrs sending wave after wave of pleasure throughout your body. 

“S-sannie, no more tongue,” you whined, lightly tugging on his hair, only encouraging him to lick at your cunt even faster than before, his nose routinely grinding into your clit. This sent you over the edge, your cunt clenching around nothing now that his fingers were rubbing circles in your thighs. “Pleaseee, I need you, I need you so bad.” 

“What do you need from me, baby?” he questioned with a brow raised, licking up the cum that had leaked out of you and swallowing it down, making you jolt. “Say it.”

“Your cock, I need it,” you sighed out, your mind clouded with immeasurable desire for the feline-like demon. 

“Both of them?” he teased, his head quirking to the side, his eyes upturned with clear satisfaction. Still in between your legs, he slowly sat up, lowering his boxers just enough to let his thin, but long dual cocks slip out and slap against one another. He smiled at you, flashing his tiny cat fangs at you, about to grow a third cock just from the way you were looking at them. “You’ve been so wet and needy for me all night, baby. I bet you can take them, can’t you?” 

“Yeah, I can, so please fuck me, Sannie,” you desperately agreed, your mouth watering at the sight of his throbbing, veiny pink cocks just asking to be shoved deep inside you.

“Good girl. Now, open up for me, sweetheart.” San guided his cocks to your entrance, smiling at the sight of you obediently holding your thighs open for him. He pursed his lips together to let some spit drip down onto his lengths, lubing them up with his hands, before he began to slowly push into you. “That’s it…How’s that, baby?” 

“K-keep going,” you breathed out, your eyes zoned in on where your bodies met, San’s cocks slipping further and further into your heat, ready to cum just from the pleasurable stretch you began to feel. 

“Look at you, taking all of me like this,” San chimed breathlessly as he bottomed out, his cocks twitching inside you, his hands rubbing your hips affectionately. 

San was definitely in your guts. You wanted him to mix them all up like he had already done with your emotions. “I’m so full, Sannie. It’s so good.” 

San smiled sweetly, beaming with pride. He began to knead your lower abdomen, feeling the outline of himself inside you underneath his fingertips. “Good girls like you deserve to be spoiled. I’m going to move now, okay, sweetheart?” 

“Okay, Sannie,” you answered softly, reaching up to caress his cheeks, slowly guiding his lips down onto yours. You looked into each other’s wide eyes for a second before your irises disappeared under your equally heavy eyelids, breathing yourselves out and taking one another in instead, melting together in a mess of carnal adoration and idyllic purity.  

And, just like that, he was fucking into you like a well-oiled machine, quick and consistent, making sure to go balls deep so you wouldn’t have to go one single second without both of his cocks rubbing deliciously against your inner walls, effectively lighting your insides ablaze. Groaning into your open mouth, he broke the kiss to express, almost drunkenly, “Fuck, your pussy’s so tight, baby, fits me like a glove. Like you were made for me, huh?” 

“Made just for you,” you replied against his lips, pressing a chaste kiss to them, only for him to press his mouth firmly back onto yours. You moaned onto his gliding sandpaper tongue when he grabbed the underside of your thighs and folded you in half, sinking deeper into your cunt, reaching places you never thought existed. 

Besides the repetitive gasps and whines San was forcing out of you with every snap of his hips, the distinct sound of your wetness could be heard squelching in between your joined sweaty bodies. San inevitably broke the messy kiss to whisper, “Hear that?” 

“Yeah, I can hear it,” you squeaked out, barely able to focus on the sound of your arousal over the sensation of being stuffed with two throbbing cocks at once, your core already strung so tightly it could snap at any second and propel you into an abyss of pleasure. 

“You’re so wet for me, Y/N, so fucking wet.” San gripped your thighs, pulling out in preparation for a deep thrust, one of his cocks accidentally slipping out all the way, allowing the other to grind along your cunt and across your clit. “Oh, fuck, I can barely stay inside, baby. It feels so hot, oh god, I might cum.” 

“Cum for me, Sannie.” You reached down and stroked his pulsing cock, causing San to toss his head back in ecstasy, your fingers slipping against his reddened, slick cockhead when ropes of hot cum shot out of it, coating your pelvis and dripping down onto your cunt. “Silly kitty, that was supposed to go in me.” 

Without hesitation, San pulled out completely and ran his fingers through the puddles of cum he left behind on your skin, eagerly slipping them into your hole and fucking the still warm liquid inside you, landing a critical hit on you with one sudden, filthy move. “There we go,” he beamed snarkily, holding his cocks and slowly pushing his cockheads back into your stretched cunt, but stopping halfway. “Are my cocks supposed to go back in you too, pretty girl? Or are you tuckered out?”  

“No, I want it, feels so good, Sannie. I love the way you make me feel.” You ran your hands down San’s back, feeling his muscles tense up against your fingertips as he pushed himself all the way back inside and got back to work, pushing his cum deeper into you, his tails occasionally brushing against your skin like a paintbrush. “Don’t stop, okay?” 

“Oh, baby,” he cooed into your ear, looking you in the eye. “I’m not going to stop until you fall apart for me. Remember that? Or is my princess feeling a bit forgetful right now?” He sighed against your fragrant, warm skin, slowly lowering himself to your neck to lick, suck, and lightly bite it, marking what was his. 

“Don’t be such a tease, Sannie,” you pouted, taking ahold of his tails near the base, stroking them in an outwards direction, hearing what were going to be words come out as groans instead — ones that grew softer and more drawn out, turning into pleasured moans the more you played with with his wavering tails. “Were you going to say something, Sannie? Who’s–nngh–the forgetful one now, huh?” 

San continued to moan and gasp for air, his once intentional thrusts growing sloppier and more desperate by the second, drool starting to drip down past his glistening lips. Feeling your fingers tighten around the base of his tails, San clutched your thighs tightly, his eyebrows screwing together. “W-wait, if you do that, I’m–”

“Aww, what’s wrong, Sannie? Cat got your tongue?” you giggled, squeezing his tails and rubbing them together like you would do with his cocks, about to tease him further when something hot and thick began to pour deep inside you and coat your inner walls with white, your breath getting caught in your throat. “Oh, San, oh my god, it’s so–”

“Cumming, I’m cumming for you, Y/N,” he choked out in between grunts, lowering himself down further to press kiss after kiss onto your swollen lips, groaning into your mouth form the way you hooked your legs around his slim waist, milking him of all his love with your clenching, throbbing cunt. “Fuck, I love you…love this…love you…” 

“Love you too,” you whispered against his moving lips, your overheated body shuddering against his as you both rode out your highs, finding yourself unable to swallow the lump that had formed inside your dry throat, not choosing to swallow your following words. “Please, don't stop, Sannie. Love me again.” 

San pulled back just enough to look down at your flushed, pretty face through his wet strands of hair, his fingers resting against your jaw. “I wasn’t planning on it, Y/N.” With his ears twitching slightly, San’s pink lips curled up just enough to let his fangs slip out, his cheeks dusted with pink. “I’ll love you until it’s pouring out of you. Until you’re so full of me, of my love, that you won’t need anyone else except for me. Does that sound good?”

Apply for the taglist here ⇢ ♡

© kitten4sannie, 2023.

[psychic-refugee]

Wenvier Bingo Freespace - Good Omens

Heaven and Hell were, at their core, corporate structures that one simply needed to learn how to finesse in order to get by, or in Crowley’s case, fail upwards.

He had made a hellish honest attempt to be a good demon, smote humans that needed smoting, inspire them to be their worse selves. It wasn’t his fault that every time he had made an attempt, humans had not only beaten him to their own damnation but had come up with something truly vile that he would not have thought of in six thousand years.

After the first few hundred years, he had decidedly given up and simply took credit. If anything, that was what being a demon was all about.

What true demon was honest in memos?

Unfortunately, his accidental achievements meant that the Demonic High Council thought he was competent at his job. In any corporate structure, being competent was the worst of sins and was punished with more work.

Case in point, he was now assigned an “intern.”

Wednesday was not a fallen angel, and Crowley was aghast at the thought that demons could procreate.

“No,” Beelzebub shuddered at the thought, “You’ve done such a damned job at tempting the humans into damnation and creating strife on earth, that she is the manifestation of all their woes. She emerged from the Pit fully formed, as is. She just needs to be shown around a bit.”

Crowly simply smiled and nodded, taking credit but knowing full well that humans had created Wednesday all on their own.

It just galled him that not only was he assigned an intern, but everyone was treating her as his de facto daughter.

As with all powerful demons, they had a dark aspect that manifested itself into things that slithered or crawled in the shadows. Wednesday’s was the spider, delicate white spider silk weaved into a beautiful dress. A gorgeous specimen of a black widow was her constant companion and stood sentry on her shoulder.

If he peered into her black obsidian eyes, he could see a speck of ruby at the center in the shape of an hourglass. If he looked past her and off to the side where the infernal aura was its true self, he could see a shadow of a thousand eyes and her true form.

Although practically a newborn, she had no trouble staring him down in his own poisonous serpentine eyes.

Crowley had no choice, so he showed her around and she learned quickly on her own that humanity was its own worst demon and she simply had to exist.

Meanwhile, at a bookstore in Soho, Aziraphale was being assigned his own heavenly intern.

Xavier was a new angel, a Principality. The first one created since the beginning of Creation.

“He’s supposed to protect communities and guide humanity. Most of us haven’t been around a human in millennia and who can blame us?” The Archangel Michael dropped in with Xavier without calling first and giving no real instruction or helpful information. “You are the foremost human expert in all of Heaven…so here you go,” she turned to Xavier, “Learn about humans and then guide them…or whatever.”

Without any further ado, Michael was gone.

Xavier was as most angels, wearing all white with handsome features and hair of starlight. He looked to be about in his late teens or early twenties, and his angelic attire left a lot to be desired in Aziraphale’s estimation, but at least his pure white hoodie would blend in with humans.

The only real hint of his divine heritage were the veins of gold in his green eyes, a unique feature as most had their heavenly marks on their person.

Aziraphale’s was in a place only Crowley had ever seen.

He wasn’t sure what else to do with the angel other than to take him about on his normal day. When they weren’t reading, they enjoyed walks at St. James’s Park, lunch at the Ritz, and plays. He was glad to see that Xavier enjoyed the fruits of humanity, although he was rather quiet.

The new angel didn’t seem to have any real desire or talent in inspiring humans to their best selves. Aziraphale was at a loss of what else to show him.

That was, until Crowley come to the bookshop with Wednesday.

Her snarky countenance reminded him of Crowley, so she held a special place in Aziraphale’s heart...or the approximate location of where a heart would be in his corporeal angelic form.

With how Xavier got tongue tied and wouldn’t stop staring at her, Wednesday had an affinity with angels it seemed.

The way she had no issue in getting in Xavier’s personal space, she returned his admiration.

Aziraphale was further enchanted when Wednesday turned out to be a voracious reader and lover of books. She even penned a few of her own, his book collection could now boast the entire series of Viper de la Muerte, the first and only murder mystery series written by a Demon.

A few months later, Crowley and Aziraphale had to create a 30 Lazarii miracle to hide the fact that Wednesday and Xavier had fallen in love and married. Any demon or angel who came by would see them snuggled up with each other, Xavier’s wings protectively surrounding her as spiders spun delicate doilies and the like around them. Now they were protected so that neither side would be able to see their love.

When asked why there was such a huge miracle, Aziraphale simply blamed it on an over enthusiastic intern.

“Well, I admire that it didn’t take them six thousand years and two near apocalypses to reveal their feelings for each other,” Crowley teased his angel.

Aziraphale rolled his eyes, but then gave his demon a kiss to make up for all the millennia they had missed.  

Card under cut

[phoenix-downer]

Touch Cravings Chapter 1

~1400 words. Set post-KH3. Terraqua, Aqua and Ven friendship, and background Sora/Kairi. Grief, Angst, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, Touch Starvation, Friendship, Romance.

Summary: Aqua is dealing with the effects of her time in the realm of darkness and then the grief of losing Sora. Thankfully, she has Ven and Terra to help her get through this chapter of her life.

Chapter 1 | Chapter 2

(Companion piece to Touch Hunger [Chapter 1 | Chapter 2]).

The events of the Keyblade Graveyard haunted Aqua. When that Demon Tide had come after them, she had frozen up like a coward. Locked in the past, stuck in a memory. It was like all those Heartless were her phantom selves, taunting her, tormenting her, reminding her of all those years she’d been stuck alone in the realm of darkness and her inability to do anything about it.

They all should’ve died that day, but Sora and Kairi had come to the rescue. Kairi by stubbornly refusing to let go and lighting Sora’s way, and Sora by tracking down every single one of their hearts until he reached her. Together they’d brought everyone back. And then Terra had finally broken free of Xehanort not long after. Hugging him and Ven again had felt so wonderful that the harrowing experiences of that day faded slightly.

Until they’d lost Sora. The price he’d paid to rescue them, to rescue Kairi…to go against what fate had ordained…he’d settled the debt with his own life.

Aqua sighed and curled in on herself. That brave, kind boy, risking everything to save her and Terra and Ven…she sometimes asked herself why he’d done it. She could still see his big bright smile in her mind’s eye, still picture the hand he’d offered to lift her up out of the water, out of the darkness and into the realm of light again. It didn’t feel like he was really gone. It had happened so suddenly. One moment he was sitting on the paopu tree on Destiny Islands, real as can be. The next he’d simply vanished. 

Aqua still couldn’t get Kairi’s cries out of her mind, and it had already been a week. Everyone’s tear-streaked faces would forever be etched in her mind and heart too. Some things you just didn’t forget. 

The other things you did. Time seemed to flow differently, much like in the realm of darkness, and Aqua felt like she was in a strange fog. The days blended into each other, and though Terra and Ven were here, she felt distant from them. They all grieved differently. Ven cried a lot, Terra withdrew, and she ruminated constantly. On and on and on, over and over again, wondering what she could’ve done differently.

There was a knock on her door. She sat up, the blanket falling off of her, the chilly night air making her shiver.

“Come in,” she said, and a moment later, she was greeted by Ven’s hollow expression and red, puffy face.

“Need a hug?” he asked softly. 

“I think you do, Ven,” she said softly, holding her arms out. “And yeah, I think I do too.”

They had an agreement: Ven would give her as many hugs as her heart desired. He’d figured out pretty quickly how starved she was for human contact after all that time spent alone in the realm of darkness.

If only Terra would offer hugs like that. At first he had. At first he’d been overjoyed to be reunited with her and Ven and had given them so many hugs it made her heart sing. But then Sora had disappeared, and she wanted to give him his space as he grieved. For the years lost, for everything he’d been powerless to prevent, for what she and Ven had gone through. For Master Eraqus’s final goodbye. And for Sora’s cruel fate.

The three of them had already made plans to search for Sora, but picking up the pieces was still tough. So she gave Ven a hug, and the ache in her heart and the years of loneliness faded a little. No matter how many affectionate touches she got from friends, it felt like she was still paying back a debt to herself she hadn’t realized she’d owed.

She wondered if she’d ever feel “normal” about touch again.

“I can’t sleep,” Ven admitted. The dark circles under his eyes were proof enough, but she was glad he was being honest with her. Irony of ironies that the boy who had spent so much of his life in slumber was now struggling to sleep.

“I’ve heard it’s common to either not be able to sleep or to sleep too much when you’re grieving,” she said, gently ruffling his hair.

“I wish I got the sleeping too much version of this grieving stuff then,” he muttered. “Then I could escape in my dreams for a little while at least.” 

“My dreams aren’t much better,” she told him sadly. “And then I wake up and I remember all over again that Sora’s gone. It’s like waking up in a world I don’t want to be in.”

Master Eraqus’s passing was heartbreaking, but he’d lived a good, full life, and Aqua had had a decade to come to terms with it. She’d gotten to say goodbye, too. But Sora? There was nothing she could rationalize about his disappearance. There was no closure. He was young and had had his life cut short due to the machinations of a cruel, selfish old man.

“Yeah, me too,” Ven said. “He saved us all. But at what cost?” He pulled away a little to search her face, as if she might have the answers. But she didn’t have the answers. How did you bring someone back who hadn’t died a normal death but had been completely banished from this entire realm?

“We’ll just have to save him too,” she told Ven, because it was the right thing to tell him. “That’s how we’ll make it up to him.”

She didn’t see how else they could do it. Maybe the collective strength of their hearts would be enough to save him. His heart had been enough to save all of them, after all. Granted, that heart was strengthened by all the connections he’d made, but she and Terra and Ven and all his other friends were those connections. They were his living, breathing legacy. Surely that counted for something.

“Yeah,” Ven replied. “It’s the least we can do.”

She and Ven comforted each other for a while after that, talking about what had happened and where they might find Sora. Ven went to bed a few hours later, exhausted at long last, and she couldn’t help the queasy, panicked feeling that rose in her gut as he closed the door behind him. 

Alone. She’d spent so much time alone. Terra and Ven’s backs were always to her. They were always walking away, always leaving her behind. She could reach and reach for them all she wanted, but they wouldn’t turn around and grab her hand. The one person who had grabbed her hand and pulled her out of the darkness was gone. He was in a pit of despair of his own now that no one could reach. Their savior needed saving, and she could only imagine how scared and lonely he must be. Cut off from everyone and everything he knew and loved.

She couldn’t help herself. Hot tears stung her eyes and wove sticky trails down her cheeks. For Sora and for herself. Sora deserved all her tears, but crying for herself was completely selfish. Irrational. The more she thought about it, the more frustrated she got with herself. Why was she crying? Terra and Ven were still here in the castle with her. They hadn’t left her behind and hadn’t willingly abandoned her to the realm of darkness for all those years. And yet she couldn’t help but feel completely and utterly isolated and alone.

“Stop that, Aqua,” she muttered, scolding herself. “You’re not alone. You’re back here in the realm of light with your friends. Sora’s the one you should be crying for, not you. You don’t deserve any tears. If you hadn’t frozen up in the Keyblade Graveyard, Sora wouldn’t have had to rescue everyone, and if he hadn’t had to rescue everyone, then saving Kairi later on wouldn’t have killed him.” She scowled angrily at the teddy bear holding a red heart that Terra had gotten her to make up for being such a downer about her Keyblade Master ceremony.

“Some Keyblade Master I am,” she told it. “I’m nothing but a failure. A weakling.”

“I disagree,” came a soft, low voice from the direction of the doorway. She squeaked and dropped the teddy bear. Ven must not have closed the door all the way, because she could make out someone else standing in the doorway.

“Terra?”

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A/N: I posted Touch Hunger a little over two years ago, and at the time a guest commenter said I should write a companion touch starvation fic about Aqua. Well, that stayed in my head ever since, and I finally found the time and spurt of inspiration to write it. The next chapter will be posted next Friday. Thank you for reading, and I hope you enjoyed!

[merrillapologist]

Fyodor sounds super cool! Could you tell me more about them?

oh boy. You’ve opened pandora’s box

Fyodor started as a Warden Amell, they were my shithead playthrough where I picked all the funny fucked up dialogue and did the fucked up choices (not the mage genocide but like, fucking the desire demon instead of saving Connor, poisoned ashes, etc) except I started making funny hcs about them and then accidentally got really attached to them and started making actually serious hcs about them until they stopped being a sillyfunny character for my bastard playthru and started being an actual oc

In their current iteration that’s developed through rp, Fyodor is the younger sibling of the Amell origin. They’re a half elven bastard who’s also related to the Lavellan origin on their dad’s side, and so when their mother disappeared and the rest of their siblings were taken to Circles, their stepfather kind of didn’t wanna deal with them, so he shipped them off to a friend in Tevinter. Lucky for them, they wound up being a magic prodigy and fairly quickly managed admission into the Minrathous Circle, but being raised in that cutthroat ass environment immensely fucked them up and made them really, really crave the fantasy of control and power over it. Eventually they caught the eye of a Magister who had produced no suitable heir and he began grooming them to be the perfect mage, getting them involved in his schemes and pretty quickly crushing whatever altruism and optimism they had left. But he did his job too well, because he was just a stepping stone to them, and Fyodor began slowly poisoning him, which presented as him falling ill - expected in his old age. Naturally, he named his prodigal student to be his heir, and Fyodor earned a seat in the Magisterium upon his death.

Anyways, come DA2, they find themself in Kirkwall to deal with the Tome of Koslun plot, and they quickly find that hey, they still have family in the city! One thing leads to another, and they end up getting pretty much adopted in the Hawkes. See, while they’re a domineering cunt in Tevinter, they know that doesn’t serve them in Kirkwall, so they let the mask down and present more as a silly zany cousin to the Hawkes. It’s actually kind of really good for them, gives them a break from the false niceties and backstabbing of Tevinter politics and lets them act like an actual person and be a little goofy and earnest from time to time. That, and they developed a big emptiness in Tevinter what with the huge importance placed on bloodline and familial ties, what with them not knowing their biodad’s side of the family at all, Revka being who knows where, and their siblings all being in Circles to their knowledge. So the Hawkes being blood relatives kind of fulfills that need, but the whole Kirkwall gang becomes a weird found family to them. That is to say, while they’re in Tevinter doing Magister business in between Acts most of the time, they wind up in Kirkwall as a companion for the main story beats to hang out.

Obviously, not a good person at all, and their friendly down to earth Kirkwall persona is just another mask. There isn’t really a real Fyodor, they have NPD like hell and don’t feel like they exist outside the perceptions of others, so every interaction is them bending to what they think their company wants them to be. Enter Fenris rivalmance because he’s the only one that really sees right through them, which is another thing that happened through rp pretty organically and kinda unexpectedly. I can talk about them in another post but TLDR: enemies to hatefucking to ghosting to husbands. They’re emotionally messy as fuck until Act 3 but not in a totally unhealthy way, just that they’re both unwell mfs who don’t deal with their issues like they’ve had 280 hours of DBT. It helps that, unlike the canon rivalmance, Fyodor doesn’t invalidate how Fenris feels ever, they actually really agree with a lot of his views on Tevinter and will openly tell Anders to fuck off and stop bothering him, which throws Fenris a lot but Fyo is really only in it for their own power and doesn’t actually like Tevinter, it’s just the only country where being a blood magic prodigy is grounds for rulership. Fyodor is a smug annoying little bastard, but they’re pretty respectful to him, his beef with them is more a moral revulsion to them. It takes time for Fenris to actually grow to trust Fyodor actually cares about him, but luckily, DA2’s time frame leaves room for that to happen. The hatefucking is because it’s a more mutually beneficial way to settle arguments, without any feelings attached until act 2-3 intermission except there very much are and both of them are in denial about it. Eventually they wind up together by act 3 :]

In DAI, Fyodor hears about the Venatori because they’re targeted for recruitment - they’re one of the most knowledgeable demonologists in Tevinter, and the Venatori need that. Except they know it’s bullshit, they think it’s horrific, so they join mostly out of morbid curiosity and for political partnerships with other Magisters in it while tipping off the Archon to their identities so he can hunt them for sport a la Magekiller. So when the Inquisition is founded, Fyo and Fen run off to join, Fyo as a quote unquote Venatori spy (except they straight up go to the Inquisition and up front say the Venatori want them to spy and arrange to be a double agent for Leliana instead) Basically in DAI they’re a very shady morally grey antihero playing both sides of the war but ultimately they want the Venatori out of Tevinter and they want to make the country better. They’re like a more self serving cunty morally loose Dorian basically. (They also happen to be catty exes with Dorian, fun story) Post game they end up being a founding member of the Lucerni!

Besides all that, some other fun details: They’re profoundly Deaf & autistic !! They communicate through sign language and they have a peppy apprentice named Minerva who travels with them to interpret for them and get in on their crazy magic bullshit. They have a lifelong special interest in entomology and publish research on local insects as a side hobby, all their outfits have some element of insectoid motif and they have big big hyperempathy for bugs because they were neglected by their adoptive father in Tevinter and it led to them having a really big love for “pests” and bugs most people overlook. They have a big love for roaches and they have pet hissers among other bugs :) They care for their pets more than anything and are very defensive of bugs in general. On more than one occasion they have genuinely deadass used blood magic to control the rest of the DA2 party to stop them from killing a bug. By the end of act 1 it’s a known fact that if you try to smash or step on a bug in their presence you Will get blood magic’ed into leaving it be while they take it outside. Also, loosely alluded to it in my tags for that other post, but they have a complex array of runes and sigils carved into their skin providing the effects of antimagic enchantments, mostly preventing blood magic use against them. It has the side effect of thinning the veil around them and making them kinda unnerving to be around to anyone sensitive to shifts in the veil.

TLDR: Silly goofy bitch Da2 fan companion who blood magicked and girlbossed their way into the Magisterium and winds up worming their way into the Hawkes’ hearts

[bbsundae]

Logs

(Dr. Mervin’s log, Aug. 7, 2003)

The genetic build was a success around the stone, the most perfect vessel we could manage for this divine payment. The Diamond will be most pleased by our delivery. As he shall be called, he will have the body of an athletic being, built to run faster than the eye can process, and go unseen to the eye if pleased to do so. The gem will produce his life and power, his desired weapon in hand, he is our greatest success yet.

It appears that we have celebrated too soon, or have we? Boss had gotten frustrated again with an uncooperative testing outcome of another subject, slamming down our tubes of the unknown chemicals into the machine, and my entire ink cartridge. =c There’s another being resulting from the completion of the stone’s build, (Should’ve turned off the machine when told to, Sullivan, you dolt.) Separate, different, unusual. It seems we have just created another “life,” with its own life source, which had created its vessel on its own. A few of us suggested having it terminated. Dr. Darkmore refused this motion.

We call it M.0807.

-

(Dr. Hartwick’s log, Aug. 9, 2008)

“Char,” as the Diamond will call him, has progressed significantly in training. He has mastered many small skills and abilities he has been given and is expected to only improve the more he is to engage in such activity.

Boss has long taken an interest not only Char, but M.0807 as well. They both interact closely, when one appears threatened, the other defends. Char plays with it as if it's a friend. Since the success/accident, the two have been inseparable. When separated, M.0807 acts out. The delivery is tomorrow, and Dr. Darkmore looks forward to it. I do not.

(Aug. 16, 2008)

The delivery was today. When it had come time for the Diamond to finally be delivered the stone, M.0807 lashed out, managing to give one of my partners a scuffle as “Char” was removed from the room. He’ll need his leg patched up, to say the least. 

Our pay has been great for this success, and the Diamond was thankful for our efforts. 

My partner’s efforts especially. He ended up losing his leg due to an infection caused by the wounds caused by M.0807. He’ll need a prosthetic if he is to get back to work.

-

(Dr. Elias Darkmore, M.D; Sept. 20, 2008)

M.0807 has been showing more aggressive behavior, it’s becoming more agitated by the sights of us. The boss had made the decision to give them a temporary companion to find a reaction, which had calmed them in time. Still, they show signs of hostility towards us. Silas has had them moved to solitary near room 667. He says the witnessing of tests should teach it to stay in line.

-

(Dr. Coltrane, Jan. 6, 2009)

As of the relocation, M.0807 has withdrawn from any interaction. From what we know, Boss was right, it’s learning to stay in line. “Using the technique of invoking fear always works,” He told us all. Fascinating how even this thing can feel such.

(Jan. 7, 2009)

I fear the Boss has miscalculated. It lashed out at him when he stepped near its cell, and as a result, we were informed to begin testing on its companion. 

We thought it would put them back in line, but there have been more consequences than benefits. We all can hear its shrieking and whispers throughout the lab, even through the walls. Its confinement is covered in claw marks and ink. It’s demonic. No one dares to go in. Dr.’s interest in it only grows every day.

(Feb. 1, 2010)

His curiosity has peaked. He made the announcement to all of us that M.0807 will be the next subject in testing, though he didn’t look concerned when no one volunteered. He will be doing it himself as it seems. 

Testing starts tomorrow. I wish him the best of luck.

[sabo-has-my-heart]

Guardian Angel

So I got this idea from another tumblr user who made a short post about being Luffy’s guardian angel, so I decided to write my own thing on it.

You sighed as you looked down at the boy who ran through the most secure prison in the world. His name was Monkey D. Luffy and you were his Guardian Angel. Every person on the planet had a ‘guardian’ whether it was a Guardian Ancestor, a family gremlin, or a summoned demon, everybody had one. But Guardian Angels and high level Demons were only assigned to those of either great power or great importance. You’d known a few such others, you were vaguely acquainted with the Demon that watched over the one known as Marshall Teach, you’d met the Angel that guarded Garp on many occasions, and were good friends with the Guardian Angels of both Ace and Sabo, both of whom were just as exasperated with their wards as you were. That’s not to say you didn’t like the boy, he was sweet, kind, always helping people, even when he was being selfish, his selfishness often had a sort of helpful innocence to it. Forcing Sanji to join him and chase his dream, egging Vivi on to admit that she wanted to take Crocodile down, following Robin and shouting at her until she was honest with herself about wanting to live. You couldn’t interfere, of course, it was against the rules for a Guardian Angel to interfere, no matter how many of them desired to do so. Others often weren’t so restricted by such things, ancestors who gave warnings to their families, demons who actively and frequently gave their humans much more power than they should. That’s not to say you couldn’t help, you’d helped Luffy heal from a large number of wounds and had even aided his companion, Zoro's Guardian in healing the green haired man. But you couldn’t help as much as you’d like, meaning when you watched the boy get covered by Magellan’s poison, you were forced to sit back and hope for the best. You knew praying wouldn’t do any good, you were the creature people prayed to when hoping for a miracle. You could try and heal him, remove the poison from his system, you looked down at the suffering boy, you couldn’t be expected to just let him die, could you? Not after 17 years of constantly protecting and helping him. You took a shaky breath as you lowered down towards him, a hand hovering over his body when you heard a familiar voice. It was his friend, Bon Clay. You gave him a hopeful look as he took Luffy away and out of the cell, looking for someone who he thought could help. Once again, all you could do was hope that this person could help Luffy as you followed the two boys.

You hovered over Luffy as he screamed, pouring your healing into the boy. The one known as Ivankov had given you exactly what you needed. A way to heal Luffy, a way to perform a miracle without breaking any rules. The sounds of Bon Clay and the sudden will to live from Luffy made you smile. When mortals prayed for a miracle, when mortals pleaded for help from a force, even if they didn’t realize it, it could grant you more power, the ability to help more. The will to live, the fight in a person meant that you didn’t have to focus on keeping them alive and keep them from giving up. You wouldn’t let this boy die here, Ivankov said he had a low chance of survival? No, Luffy had a better chance than anyone realized. You smiled and panted as Luffy’s screams stopped, the boy shouting for food a moment later. You’d succeeded, with the help of Ivankov, Bon Clay, and the rest of the New Kamas, you had saved him. He would not die under your watch, not so long as you could do something about it. Following him around after that became a little harder, your energy was spent, without the prayers of the mortals, without their help, all of your energy had been spent healing Luffy. 

Your eyes widened as you watched the war rage on. All across the battlefield ancestors, angels, demons, and spirits fought each other, each wishing to claim victory for their side. Even you fought, despite your fatigue, you fought on, for Luffy and for Ace. your breathing came out in heavy pants as you faced Ace’s Guardian Angel, the two of you laughing tiredly as you accompanied the two boys forward. The battle wasn’t over yet, Ace and Luffy still needed to get to safety, hell, you couldn’t even definitively say that the hard part was over yet. 

“If that boy and I get out of here alive, I’m going to kick the hell out of the demon that aided Teach.” Ace’s angel joked as the two of you followed the boys.

“I’ll join you for forcing Luffy to go through this hell.” you responded, pausing as a shiver ran down your spine. Something was very, very wrong. Your head turned to face Luffy and Ace once again. Ace was staring down Akainu, the older man taunting Ace into reacting.

“He still hasn’t grown out of that?!” you demanded, looking at his angel who watched on worriedly. 

“I can only protect him, I can’t change him.” Ace’s angel said, swallowing hard. You could only hope that neither boy would die today. You watched in horror as Akainu aimed for Luffy, time seeming to slow down around you. 

“NO!” you screamed, not even realizing you were moving until you were behind him, your wings wrapped protectively around him. A scream was ripped from your lips as you felt the searing heat against your wings.

Luffy stared up at the being that encased him and his brother in a protective shield of pure white feathers. Their beauty was ethereal, even as they screamed in pain, the magma from Akainu’s fist burning through the white wings. Luffy felt himself being pulled backwards, the boy grabbing Ace’s wrist as the two of them were pulled away from Akainu. The entire battlefield stared on in awe at the angelic creature that glared at Akainu. 

“The price I will pay for this will be serious, but I will not let him die here!” you shouted, grabbing both boys in your embrace before opening your wings to their full span, pouring every ounce of power you had outwards. You knew that every mortal in attendance could feel the full force of your divine power as many of them backed away. Those who didn’t were quickly blown back, their guardians unable to interfere without breaking the same rules you just had. Once those around you had been subdued, you pushed the boys forward, urging them to run. The shocked brothers complied with ease, running towards one of the ships as you stumbled along behind them. The fighting soon continued, the pirates suddenly bolstered by the appearance of an angel on their side. 

You collapsed to the floor of the ship as it sailed away from the battle, Ace and Luffy in tow. Smiling, you looked up at the two boys who kneeled by your side, holding you up.

“I… Thank you for saving my little brother.” Ace said, tears running down his cheeks. He didn’t know who you were but you’d saved Luffy, that’s all he needed to know.

“I couldn’t let such a reckless, sweet boy die, not after all I’ve done to keep him alive up to this point.” you laughed hoarsely as you looked at your hand, it was fading, small orbs of light floating from your being.

“W-what’s happening?” Luffy asked, looking at your body in panic.

“I broke the rules, it’s time to pay the price.” you said simply as you faded faster.

“But you can’t! You saved me! I won’t allow you to disappear!” Luffy argued, holding your hand tightly. You laughed at him, he was always doing things like this.

“Don’t worry, Luffy. You’ll have a new guardian soon, one much better than me.” you said, smiling at him. You didn’t want to disappear, you didn’t know what would happen if you did.

“I don’t want another one! I want you!” Luffy said, not entirely sure what he was even saying. He hadn’t met you until today, yet he felt like he’d known you his entire life, like a close friend, one he didn’t want to disappear.

“That’s not up to me.” you said with a small shrug, your body almost completely gone, your form so transparent you could barely make out your form.

“NO! You can’t leave! I… I won’t allow it! I’m Monkey D. Luffy, the man who will be the next king of the pirates and I say that you’re not allowed to go! You… you’re going to join my crew!” the boy shouted, one hand still holding yours, the other on your opposite shoulder. Your head felt like it was spinning with his declaration, your vision turning black. You were no longer his guardian angel, you were no longer an angel at all.

Super nervous about posting this one, but uh... I hope you enjoyed it. 

[aspiringauthorintraining]

Sands of Eon (2/2)

(A/N): hoped you liked the first part. Enjoy! Read with sad music cause I wrote it with sad music. I hope you cry lol.

Part 1 here!

Fighting in a battle changes a person. But surviving an Archon war destroys them.

At least now, you had a better understanding of what Xiao went through before. And seeing how it affected you, it made you all the more thankful that you could suffer in place of Xiao.

Once you arrived in the past, you had successfully prevented the contract between Kubira and Xiao from coming to fruition. It was simple really. Kubira wanted a servant to do his bidding, and figured Xiao would be perfect for the role. But if the god were to find someone before Xiao, someone who was willing to become his bloodhound instead, there would be no reason for him to actively search out the adeptus. In short, you took over Xiao’s role in the war. It was the only plan that would change the outcome of the war and the future the least, without having others get involved.

All it took was offering yourself. You had surprised the god, who was amused that a mere human would want to serve in his army. But he decided to humor you, and in exchange for your obedience to his orders, he granted you immortality and increased power. By the end of the forsaken war, your power had become strong enough to rival an adeptus’. At the price of insurmountable bloodshed.

You hadn’t seen Xiao during the war, something that you were thankful for later on.

Not a day would pass that you wouldn’t think of him; hesitating, wondering if you would be able to face him after all that you had done. If he would look at you in disgust, knowing of all the deeds you had done for your master. If it would be worth facing his hatred, just to get a glimpse of his face once more.

Once the long war reached its end, Rex Lapis freed you from the chains of your blood-filled servitude. You had considered asking the archon to bring an end to your curse of immortality, but decided against it.

You could have had a merciful death, spending the last of your days as a human. But you didn’t deserve such an easy death, not after all the inhumane sins you committed. What you truly deserved, was to live every day of the rest of your immortal life; remembering every life you had taken, every drop of blood shed with your polearm, never being able to escape the horrors you submitted yourself to. You would continue to roam Teyvat, neither human nor adeptus, barely surviving, barely hanging on the thread of sanity left in you. Never forgetting that you had chosen your fate.

And the selfish part of you urged you to keep your immortality as well. You held onto the selfish desire to see Xiao one day, smiling and celebrating, surrounded by the people of Liyue. Blissfully unaware of what you endured and suffered, in his stead.

And as a millennia passed, you never once regretted changing your fate with Xiao’s. You had made your choice, and you now lived with it.

Your life followed in the steps of Xiao’s original fate, spending your days and years protecting Liyue; an atonement for your sins, as well as gratitude to the Geo Archon who saved you. On quiet days, you ate Almond Tofu at the Wangshu Inn, finally understanding why the adeptus had craved the dish so much before. It was the texture, rather than the taste that made it so alluring.

Avoiding the yaksha in the millennia had been easier than you thought. The only way you would hear about Xiao was through the Geo archon, who came to visit every now and then, checking up on you from time to time. He would update you on the man’s whereabouts and health during each visit, keeping the adeptus nameless, per your request.

“I don’t remember my real name.”

“Xiao isn’t your real name?”

“No, it was given to me by Morax after the Archon War…”

Xiao wasn’t his name anymore, and you figured not knowing his name would prevent you from ever seeking him. The less you knew, the better.

“It’s the last night of the Lantern Rite festival, (Y/N).”

Verr Goldet informs you as you greet her on your way up the stairs.

“Is it that time already?” you asked with a small smile. You reached down to pet the cat who rubbed her back against your leg with a purr.

“The traveler stopped by to let you know his invitation to join him and his flying companion at the festival still stands.”

You looked out at the terrace, watching the violet, sunset sky turn darker with each minute.

“You know me. I’m fine watching from the roof.” you responded, shaking your head.

The Wangshu owner gave a sigh at your response.

“At least go to the mountains for a better view. I’ll pack you an Almond Tofu so you can eat dinner up there while watching the ending festivities.”

Seeing her pleading face, you couldn’t reject her suggestion.

You finally reached the top of the mountain, giving you a good view of the city of Liyue, as well as the lanterns floating in the sky. Looking down into the city square, you could see the people of Liyue celebrating the last moments of the festival: children running around with last-minute made lanterns, lovers gathered near the bridge hand-in-hand, and Ruijin explaining the rules of her new game to the curious crowd. But it was the crowd gathered in the center, dancing in a big circle that grabbed your attention.

You spotted a figure dressed in teal, playing a flute instead of his usual lyre, providing music for the crowd to dance to. You smiled seeing the anemo archon having the time of his life. And it seemed that one more figure was having the time of his life, in the center of the dancing circle, wearing a mask and dancing along to the bard’s wind music.

Your breath hitched at the sight of the figure. Even with the mask on, you could recognize him anywhere. It was your first time seeing him in over a millennia, and you could still remember his face, down to every last detail.

Before you knew it, tears streamed down your face, the sight of finally seeing him overwhelming you with emotions.  

“Looks like your wish was granted too.” you laughed happily through your tears, remembering what he had wrote on the lantern you once gave him long ago.

“For a day to come to wear the mask, not to conquer demons, but to dance to the tune of that flute amidst a sea of flowers.”

                                                                                           - Xiao

As he continued dancing, you were entranced, never being able to see this side of him before your time venture.

It was only when the ending rite began that he had stopped his movement, taking his mask off to properly watch the show. Your heart stopped at the sight of his face, a small smile gracing his features. And it wasn’t until the ending fireworks rang in your ears, that your heart was reminded to beat again, realizing you had spent the whole ending festival watching him.

You took a moment to look out at the vast sea of lanterns, wondering if Xiao had made one of his own, and what wish he had written on the lantern. Taking one last look at the brightly-lit night sky, you turned your attention back to the city, watching as a group of people surrounded Xiao with smiles on their faces. And at the sight of his responding smile, all the pain you had endured up til now was forgotten.

“Xiao.” you called out quietly.

It was the wrong name, but it was the only one you knew him by.

The yaksha darted his eyes around the crowd, seemingly as if he had heard you call out to him. Although, it was far too loud with festivities in the square, and the distance between the two fo you, that it wasn’t likely.

“Happy Lantern Rite.” you whispered, a tear falling down your cheek.

It was worth it. Seeing the smile on his face, surrounded by the people of Liyue who respected him. It was worth your loneliness and pain, to save him from his. Being the only one to remember everything would be a suffering you would gladly take for his happiness.

So, you forced yourself to tear your eyes away from the his figure, away from the lantern-lit city. And silently, you headed down the mountain, back to Wangshu Inn, alone.

(A/N): AhhHHH!, you’ve made it to the end! Thank you for reading! I felt so sad playing the story quest for Xiao during the Lantern Rite festival. I planned on having a happy ending but just ended up going on an angst spiral. Let me know what you thought! I’m thinking of doing another part with a possibly happier ending, but we’ll see if I’m up for it lol. Again thank you for reading! Safe readings!

Like, comment, subscribe, ring the bell for notifications for more videos. jk lol, this isn’t youtube. Just play some Genshin.

[inhuman-obey-me]

Jewel

Word Count: 1.9k

Description:

Lust - an uncontrolled or illicit desire or appetite.

The Avatar of Lust wants what he wants, and what he wants, he will bloody take.

[cw: violence, body horror]

"Oh, Lilu, you are just too much!" Asmodeus giggled, his hand brushing just subtly across the shoulder of the incubus across from him as he waved away the compliment he'd just received. "But please, don't let me stop you, go on."

"No, but really, it's unfair how pretty you are," one of his favorite succubi whined playfully back. "I mean, humans are so easy to seduce it's boring, but you can just walk right up to anyone you like and they'll fall for you! To have such power...oh, it's so sexy, Asmodeus." The ring of admirers around him hummed with agreement.

"A toast! To our beautiful jewel of a leader!" one cried, raising their glass.

Out of the corner of his eye, Asmo checked his reflection in one of the dark glossy tiles on the wall, making sure to position himself just so under the VIP table's lights to perfectly accent his features before responding. "Aww, thank you all. I mean, my skin does shimmer like a jewel, thanks to that rare new lotion Nevan got for me last week, but you don't have to point it out like that - after all, everyone can see that already for themselves."

And speaking of jewels, he thought, as a sparkle caught his eye from across the room, I think I see a gorgeous one right now...

Quickly, Asmo gave one of his usual flimsy excuses to flit away from the group and approached the demon who had just walked in - and, more importantly, the brooch on the demon's coat, which glimmered softly with the shine of a powerful magical gem. It was one of the most interesting things he'd seen in a long time, and he decided right then that he just had to have it.

Staring up coyly through his long eyelashes, he purred, "Well, hello there. Today's your lucky day - wouldn't you like to come join the table of the most gorgeous person here? Who are you, sweetie?"

"No thank you."

The response was curt, without even a name, as the demon declined to meet his eyes.

Asmo resisted a pout. He didn't often get such cold treatment from a stranger, and he did not like it. After all, he was the Avatar of Lust, the most beautiful demon in all the three realms. Not to mention, this lesser demon was utterly repulsive-looking! Who did this guy think he was, ignoring him this way?

But, he had a goal here and he wasn't going to give it up so easily, even if it did mean he'd have to do a bit of flirting with an absolute horror of a face.

"Oh, come on now. Why don't I get you a drink?" Determined, Asmo took the other demon's hand in his, placing a ghost of a kiss on his fingertips as he led him towards the bar.

At that moment, he noticed the ring on the demon's finger - bronze and iron, etched with intricate symbols. Very familiar intricate symbols.

Solomon. He knew about this ring, and by extension, this demon; his sorcerer friend had told him the story a long time ago. It was Solomon's very first pact, and one he regretted deeply, as he'd only made it to save a kid he'd been fond of. A lowly demon who craved the bodies and energies of effeminate young boys, targeting only weak prey, and who had once even tried to pull Beelzebub into a pact to save his own sorry skin, though thankfully Beel was smarter than to fall for the tricks of such a low-ranking demon.

Truly, Asmo's disgust for this guy just kept increasing. And the jewel kept enticing him in, glittering with magic power in the club's flashing lights. Didn't something so beautiful belong with him, rather than with this miserable rube?

For the lesser demon's part, he just sputtered a bit in surprise at Asmodeus's boldness, finding himself pulled along before he could even give a response. "Well, I guess I don't mind a free drink..."

The Avatar of Lust waved to the bartender as he nabbed a pair of seats, signaling to get them his usual "I'm flirting, don't interrupt us please" order before turning back to his new companion. "So, what's your name, handsome?" he asked with his most charming smile, suppressing the urge to vomit at having called that appalling visage handsome.

"...Ornias," the opposing demon responded carefully. "Aren't you...Asmodeus?"

"Heehee! Why, yes I am! Isn't it your lucky night?"

"...I guess." He seemed more wary than excited, to Asmo's annoyance.

Just then, the bartender slid two glasses of glowing orange drinks towards them, saving him from having to respond to the demon's lack of enthusiasm directly. "Oh, our drinks are here - the house special, Hellfirefly Sunset Demonus!" he chirped, thrusting the glass cheerfully towards the other. "Come on, let's drink!"

He quickly downed the whole glass, urging the lesser demon to do the same. "So, Ornias, why don't you tell me a little about yourself?"

Whether it was the alcohol, or simply because people always like to talk about themselves, Ornias started to relax a bit. "Well," he began proudly, "I'm an Officer of the constellation of Aquarius, and..."

He was soon on a very long monologue about himself - a monologue to which Asmodeus quickly found himself zoning out. "Oh, that's so interesting," he nodded along with feigned fascination, catching a mention of...something about strangling Aquarius men for liking Virgo women...?

Seriously, how does this guy just keep getting creepier and creepier? No wonder Solomon can't stand him, Asmo thought to himself. I thought it'd be a good idea to get him talking about himself, but this is even worse than how cold he was being earlier.

Deciding he was more than done with listening to this, Asmodeus grabbed the other demon's hands again and whisked him to the dance floor, this time saying, "Oh, I'm sorry, I'm sure you didn't come to the club just to chat all night, did you? Of course you didn't! Come, dance with me!"

Unfortunately, that didn't stop Ornias at all. "Sure," he said, making some awkward steps around while trying to continue his rambling. "Anyway, so as I was saying -"

Asmo placed a finger over the annoying demon's lips and a hand on his shoulder. "Shh, hush there cutie, let's just enjoy the music and each other, shall we?" He shimmied up against his dance partner, letting his body do the work of entrancing the lesser demon so he could give his ears a break.

His peace was short-lived, though. As Ornias got more into dancing with the Avatar of Lust, it seemed some new need to try to impress him welled up inside. He blurted out, "Hey, so actually, you've heard of Solomon, right? Greatest sorcerer in the three realms, Michael's favorite, yadda yadda? He's actually a close friend of mine. I'm sure he'd make some time to meet you if I told him about you."

It took every last bit of restraint Asmodeus had to keep his eyes from rolling right out of his skull at that. He needed to speed this up fast, or he was going to lose his mind.

"Oh, would you? That's so amazing, I didn't know Solomon was friends with such an impressive demon," he replied, voice dripping with saccharine charm to hide how far he was lying through his teeth. "And you're not a bad dance partner, either. You know, you just keep getting more and more attractive...what's an Avatar of Lust to do with himself?"

Satisfied that his little name-drop seemed to have done its job, Ornias smirked and took a slight step back. "Well, thank you. You're, uh, not bad yourself."

"Oh, come on now, I live for praise. Feel free to flatter me as much as you'd like," Asmo crooned, placing his partner's hands on his waist to draw him closer again.

The lesser demon managed just a couple more compliments as his lusty companion's hands started traveling more aggressively with his dancing, tracing his lower back and shoulder blades from beneath his coat. "Mm, y-your hands are kind of cold," he stammered out as he felt the lithe fingers brushing up against his neck.

"Oh, my bad! Want to help me warm them up then?" Asmodeus giggled mischievously, resting his hands now on the ugly face in front of him instead. He drew him into eye contact, not letting the demon shy away, and continued, "Come on, you're dancing with me after all - the Avatar of Lust. It's quite the honor, you know."

He placed a light, intimate brush of his lips along his neck, and the lesser demon practically melted in his arms. "W-well...if t-that's what you want..."

"It is," he answered breathily, voice imbued with magic to carry the sensual sound to his target over the loud music of the club. "I'm all yours for tonight, just the two of us, here on this dance floor. So focus on me, okay?"

"Yes, of course..."

He leaned in close to Ornias's ear and whispered alluringly, "Now tell me, what is it that you desire?"

At last, the words he'd been waiting for fell from the annoying demon's mouth, as he could no longer resist the Avatar of Lust's charms: "Asmodeus...I want you."

Asmodeus smirked, drawing Ornias into a dark corner at the edge of the room as he batted his eyelashes with a faux sweetness.

"Why, Ornias, did you fall in love with me?"

Ornias nodded through heavy-lidded eyes, hardly able to form words as desire rapidly clouded his mind. "Yes, I...I want you..."

"Am I just to die for?" Asmo whispered into the lesser demon's ear, caressing his cheek with one hand while entwining the other around the small of his back. This close, he could feel the pounding of Ornias's heart against his own chest, like sweet music to his ears.

"Y-yes...I...would die for you...."

"Am I just to die in writhing agony for?"

"Yes, Asmodeus..."

"Good. Then die for me, darling."

Ornias gasped as suddenly a wracking pain started in his groin, which traveled quickly like venom up through his veins across his torso and throughout his whole body. Blood dripped from his eyes and mouth as Asmodeus walked clawed fingers up into his back, tearing the skin beneath his coat to ragged ribbons. With the other hand still on the lesser demon's cheek, Asmo yanked his face towards him to meet his gaze. His charm powers quickly overtook the demon's control, and before he could stop himself, he thrusted his hand deep into his own chest, pulling out the still-beating heart to hold out like a present. The Avatar of Lust let the blood run down from his lips as he sank his fangs in for a bite.

"You really are too unsightly for something this beautiful," Asmo said with a sneer.

With that, he snatched the gem off of the demon's chest and sashayed away with a cheerful hum, not sparing another glance at the convulsing form left in the corner.

--

"Oof! Solomon, please! I told you to be more gentle with me when you summon me! What if you bruise my beautiful body?!"

"Great, okay, it's not you," Solomon sighed with relief. "I suddenly felt one of my pacts brea-- Asmodeus, what is that you're wearing?" There was something oddly familiar about the red heart newly adorning the top of the golden scorpion that encircled the demon's torso.

"Ahahaha! Isn't it pretty?" the demon crowed happily, blood still dripping from his lips. "And it has so much power stored inside, too! It's just perfect for me, isn't it?"

"Oh, by the way," he added with a mischievous glint in his eyes, pulling a ring off his finger to toss at the sorcerer, "I took care of your Ornias problem for you."

[your--isgayrights]

How about 999 yjh and uriel?

This went a bit past just 999, but I had fun with this prompt! Here's some cannon based Jonghyuk angst with happy ending lol.

The nine hundred ninety ninth regression was one that Yoo Jonghyuk planned based on his previous regressions, as he always did.

Although, it wasn't as if the previous two regressions, the nine hundred ninety seventh and eighth, were really the worst the starstream had seen of Yoo Jonghyuk. That title would probably be saved for the forty-first from which Yoo Jonghyuk was conscious of the fact he had to deliberately block memories from to stay sane.

No, the problem with the last two regressions wasn't the presence of any memories that were wretched to the point of novelty. The problem was the fact that Yoo Jonghyuk barely retained any memories of them at all.

It was all a haze… it was honestly hard to tell if those regressions had been even markedly different from the ones previous to them, as all of the repeated events seemed to mush together and meld with the centuries of anguish he had already endured.

He hadn't felt anything new. Done anything new. So much so that he would forget his place in the new regression and wander aimlessly thinking of the old until some high level constellation punk got a lucky shot at him.

And then all of a sudden, Yoo Jonghyuk woke up in that familiar train car. The one that no matter what would only last for the first thirty minutes of the scenario.

Almost out of habit, he looked for that boy he had been keeping an eye on. The one who always died.

He stopped when he realized.

999.

That boy had died one thousand times.

Yoo Jonghyuk had lived one thousand times. Been in this train car one thousand times. Failed to save anyone one thousand times. Died one thousand times.

Was he really that useless? Yoo Jonghyuk thought to himself, as he went through the motions of beating Choi Han-gyu to death before he could blow up the car.

Honestly, at this point maybe he should accept that he was just like the boy in this car.

No matter what he did, he was going to die anyway.

If he thought about it like that, then…

Well, what was the best thing that he could accomplish with his own death, knowing that it would come to him no matter what he did?

So in the nine hundred ninety ninth turn, Yoo Jonghyuk took more risks than ever before. He made choices and plans that he never would have before because experience had shown they were the antithesis to his former dogma. That which put his own means of survival above all else.

And little by little, Yoo Jonghyuk began to notice that things could be new again.

In this regression, his companions cared more about him. They respected him more, and opened up about things they never had. As if something in his actions connected to them. Made them think he acted out of love for them since his actions clearly showed no care for himself.

And maybe Yoo Jonghyuk wanted to believe them, too. That he was still capable of that sort of love. That desire for connection.

So he let himself fall into it. He made his decisions based on everyone's survival except for his own.

And his comrades continued to show new sides of themselves. The way Lee Jihye tried not to weep aver the bloody remains of his leg, even though no one had died that regression. How Lee Hyunsung's lips trembled while trying to stop the blessing where Yoo Jonghyuk's arm used to be. Shin Yoosung's open bawling, as it began to set in on Yoo Jonghyuk that he would never see this version of her's face ever again.

But Yoo Jonghyuk knew whose response to his actions had surprised him the most this regression.

"Jonghyuk. Are you ready?" The voice of a certain archangel was heard near his somehow still intact ears.

Uriel's face was close to his, a tight grip on his arm and waist along with the angelic wing steadied on his back the only support keeping him held upright as the others had followed his instructions in forging through the final battle ahead of them.

"There's no need to watch over me so closely, Uriel." He told her. It was, in fact, something he had been telling this strange angel recurrently ever since she had stepped down from Eden to join their group.

That was one thing he had never expected of the entity he had once known as the Demon-like Judge of Fire. In all the timelines he had been through Uriel had been just that, a silent judge. Reacting positively to his lawful actions in the early scenarios with coins, and expressing disappointment over his more morally dubious actions. Only descending after the destruction of Eden occasionally to cast judgement in person.

But something about this round had moved the archangel to act differently after the destruction of Eden this round.

"No offense, but there's obviously a d**n need for it, Jonghyuk." Uriel casually censored herself, as though the restrictions of Eden were still in place. "You can't see how the others are looking back towards you right now, but they know it too. That it's always times like this that you feel the need to go and take unnecessary risks."

Yoo Jonghyuk thought that he heard it in her voice, then.

That lilt in Uriel's voice that suggested she was talking to an old friend, even though the span of time in which he had met this version of her was infinitesimal in comparison to the life he had already lived before her, and perhaps compared to the life of a constellation as well.

Maybe Uriel, too, had lived through this all before. A war where she was called upon to support a comrade close to death.

Perhaps she also knew what it was like to be too helpless to save someone important.

Yoo Jonghyuk should be sorry that she would have to go through it again.

He could already feel it. No matter how close Uriel and her sword stayed by his side, Yoo Jonghyuk could feel his death coming to him.

It was because the outer world covenant wasn't an outside threat. It was something that was inside of him. A hole that came from the very center of him. Almost as if there were no outer world god involved, and Yoo Jonghyuk had really only done this to himself.

When everything was fading, and he could recognize her voice as one of the ones desperately calling out to him, Yoo Jonghyuk thought that he should apologize to her.

Instead, he died with a smile on his face.

.

.

.

The one thousandth regression was one that Yoo Jonghyuk planned based on his previous regressions, as he always did.

When he woke up on the train car again, he wasn't smiling as he had been when he died.

It was because he knew that he wouldn't let the events that let him get so far in the last regression repeat.

He couldn't live like that.

Suicidal idiot that he still was, he couldn't let the same thing happen to his precious memories of those friends in the nine hundred ninety ninth that had happened to every other memory he had of them from all those other regressions. Let them repeat until the point of oblivion. He couldn't do it. He just couldn't, even if it would be the right thing to do, even though it could save their lives, Yoo Jonghyuk just wasn't strong enough.

And he hated himself, for that weakness.

That was when Yoo Jonghyuk decided that he had to die, sitting there in that subway car before the scenarios started.

No matter what it took, killing every constellation in the starstream, losing distorted versions of old comrades, finding and wringing out his sponsor's neck…

Yoo Jonghyuk had to survive long enough to stand in front of that wall once more.

And join all of his once treasured memories in the deepest oblivion of death.

From then on, the only times he saw that Demon-like Judge of Fire descended from Eden was when she was sent with the express purpose to kill him in a way that didn't matter.

The only thing new he learned about her thereafter was how her corpse looked with a sword through the middle.

That was, until he met her as an outer god.

Secretive Plotter had wondered if it would please an angel like Uriel to know that he had prayed for the first time in that moment.

Prayed against all odds that her firey sword really could pierce through his curse of life and see him to his end.

But some dumb guy saved him that day.

And now, in the present, Yoo Jonghyuk was watching the kid version of that guy pick the green bits out of the omelette he had made him.

He had been trying to remember from the timelines where he had kids how he had tricked them into eating their vegetables, but like most of the times he tried to recall those deep memories of his, something in his brain had gotten caught up in that pesky number 999's time.

It was probably because his current company made those times hard to forget.

"Aaaaah I'm going to be late!" Uriel ran into the kitchen in a flash of blonde curls, going for the bread in the fridge as if she was going to run out of the house with toast in her mouth like a schoolgirl from one of her animes. "Jonghyuk do you know where Jihye is?"

"She already left." Yoo Jonghyuk reported, as he batted her hands off the bread and gave her a fork for the small omelette he had already put on the table for her. "Her first class this semester is in an early slot."

Even though he had told that girl to schedule her classes with the university early if she wanted good times…

"Shi-" Uriel seemed to remember there was no system to filter out her swears as she spared a glance toward Dokja before correcting herself. "Shoot. I mean shoot." She started speaking between bites as she scarfed down the omelette "I think that [munch] girl borrowed the shoes I was [chew] going to wear to my interview [gulp] without asking…"

"Does it really matter what shoes you wear?" Yoo Jonghyuk commented as he used his chopsticks to start placing Dokja's vegetables back into his omelette. "A former constellation is going to look strange submitting her manhwa manuscript to an editor for review no matter what."

"Give me a break." Uriel frowned. "It's not my fault that your world somehow made the mistake of making creative skills look more appealing on a resume than demon slaying skills."

Yoo Jonghyuk thought that there was truth to her observation, as he watched Uriel ruffle the hair of the pouting Dokja, before putting her clean plate in the sink for him to deal with later.

Everything about this world was new to Uriel. One could see it plainly in the very way she moved, unused to not carrying wings everywhere she went and walking ever so lightly on the earth wherever she went. Whether it was because she knew what it was to fly or because her shoulders had never felt so light before, Yoo Jonghyuk couldn't be sure.

"Good luck." He called, as Uriel walked out into the fray ahead of him, donning combat boots instead of the professional heel she seemed to have misplaced.

"Thanks Jonghyuk!" She replied, seemingly not compelled to look back to check on him as she walked out the door.

Yoo Jonghyuk had this certain feeling, then. A feeling that he often saw himself having in this new life of his, with these old friends of his.

Even though he thoroughly knew these people already, that fact made it all the more exciting to watch them grow into their roles in this world. Become the people that he never got to see them be.

"It's that look in your eye."

Yoo Jonghyuk almost startled, as he remembered he was being watched.

He turned to find young Dokja looking him with a gaze that seemed to see beyond his stoic expression.

"My father never looked at anyone like the way you looked at her just now, Hyung." He said, in that small, knowing voice of his, before a shyness seemed to come over him, and he looked down at his plate.

"That's why nine hundred ninety nine was always my favorite." He admitted, in a little voice

The emotion that Yoo Jonghyuk felt then was a rare one, but not entirely new.

A mixture of pride and bashfulness that only his own children had ever raised out of him, a glow that seemed to start from his chest and go on to cover his cheeks.

Perhaps an erstwhile familiarity with that feeling was the only thing that allowed him to save himself from smiling, as he tried very hard to tell Dokja sternly to eat his vegetables.

And when Uriel came home that evening to announce that her manuscript had gotten picked up… well, it wasn't hard to admit that Yoo Jonghyuk too was now living through a life that he never had before.

[akitokihojo]

Monster - Chapter 6

chapter index

Inuyasha walked carefully, the sun beginning its descent through the sky. He’d taken off from the spot of the attack quickly, but after so long, he couldn’t bring himself to keep the same pace. Not only was he physically drained, but the poor girl draped over his back wasn’t fairing too well. They’d had to stop three times so she could vomit. Kagome would apologize profusely afterward, crying, and Inuyasha felt absolutely awful.

Just in case, he’d asked if she’d eaten anything that had upset her stomach in the time since she left his side. She said no. He asked if she was sick before issuing her attack. She said no. He figured as much, but he had to be sure.

She trembled the majority of the way, doing her best to hang on as tightly as she could in the beginning, but now that he merely strolled, mindful of each step, Kagome sort of just slumped against him. She seemed to have calmed considerably, her burning cheek resting on his shoulder, fingers gently grasping him, and legs swaying with each stride. She wasn’t asleep; he could tell. She was still aware, she just didn’t have the energy left to keep her head up. And, who could blame her?

Thankfully, as of right now, he didn’t sense a single demon from before. They hadn’t followed. Yet, at least. That didn’t mean there wasn’t a chance it would happen, but the two of them would be hidden when and if they caught up to them.

He could finally see the little town he’d been heading toward up ahead. It wasn’t very lively. Never had been. It was quaint and sort of homey, but every person that lived there was wise to understand how not to attract attention their way. More importantly, they knew how to handle the attention that did stir up. It was why he frequented the place when he needed to lay low. The inn, the inn keeper, provided a safe space.

“Hey,” Inuyasha spoke softly, shifting his head to watch Kagome slowly raise her own to look at him. “Can you walk?”

“Mhm.” She hummed, voice raspier than ever thanks to the stomach acid that had charred her throat.

Inuyasha kneeled down, allowing her to dismount him. He was quick to stand and face her, holding her arm in case she got dizzy and lost her balance. She was still so pale, the sclera of her eyes pink, and the flesh of her lips muted in shade.

“How are you feeling?”

“I’m fine.” Her tone held no conviction. Again, he couldn’t blame her. She obviously wasn’t fine, but he took her statement to mean she wasn’t currently feeling too nauseous to handle.

“My friend is in the town up ahead, alright? She’s gonna help us, and you’re gonna be safe there. We have to bring as little attention our way while we walk through, though. Think you can handle pulling it together for ten minutes?”

Kagome nodded, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She appreciated his firm hold on her. The wooziness was kicking her ass, and each time she’d thrown up, she gradually felt weaker and weaker. Standing was hard enough, and walking was going to be a feat, but she could surely do it. Inuyasha saved her, kept her safe, so if he was asking her for a little help to insure things stayed mellow, she would pull through without a second thought.

“Need to get anything out of your system before we go.”

“Please don’t make me think about it.” Kagome groaned, cringing as her stomach churned.

“Sorry.” Inuyasha grimaced, holding his arm out for her. “Hang onto me, okay? I’ll get us there as quickly as possible.”

Kagome slid her hand around the underside of the hanyou’s forearm, taking the support he offered. There was a huge part of her that wished she could say she could walk on her own, but who would she be kidding? He knew as well as she did that she needed all the help she could get.

His muscles were firm, embracing the meager weight she leaned onto him. Still, Kagome made sure to stand up as straight as possible, swallowing any nausea remaining while she used her other hand to lightly smack her cheeks to bring a little life back into her face.

The walk through wasn’t difficult, and Inuyasha was proud of Kagome for appearing well and alight. Her head swiveled from side-to-side as she took in the sights of the town, the “cute” architecture as she put it, and even the cobblestone that she mentioned her village only had in certain areas; not all over like it was here. He could tell she wanted to move slowly, more out of how her legs wobbled than out of desire, but he found it particularly important that they get to the inn quickly, so he intentionally kept up a decent pace that he knew she could handle. Kagome didn’t complain. She didn’t grumble or whine. Though her body was protesting, she pushed herself to keep going.

“No talking.” He ordered just outside the door. He could hear the life from down the road, and though he knew it had to be coming from the tavern in the entrance, he still hoped it wasn’t. Not always was it rambunctious, but more often than not, the first level of the inn was spirited and loud. Kagome nodded, agreeing without question, and Inuyasha opened the door, guiding her inside.

The hanyou flexed his arm closer to his body, keeping Kagome near as he sauntered over to the edge of the bar counter. Most of the business was on the far side, not crowding the entryway, and the inn keeper seemed her usual level of unamused as she poured another drink. Catching the scent of a familiar demon, Inuyasha’s golden gaze landed on glowing, blue eyes, peeking over at him from his glass of ale. His long, brown hair was held in its usual, high ponytail, and as he set his cup down, watching him from the very corner of the angled counter, and arching a thick brow, Inuyasha spoke with just the steady shake of his head. Please, for the love of fucking god, not right now.

He felt a squeeze on his forearm, fingertips pressing into his skin, and Inuyasha glanced down at the woman by his side. He could see a thin sheen of sweat on her cheeks, her eyes cast downward, and her chest was rising as she took deep, controlled breaths. Fuck. She was feeling sick again, and this was her way of politely letting him know without speaking.

“Kaede.” He called. The young lady at the far end glanced over her left shoulder, and it was as if the moment she realized it was him her brows pinched together in conjecture. Her long, straight, dark brown hair was tied loosely in a low ponytail, strays falling free and framing her jawline, and as she turned away from the loud, drinking men to walk over, she revealed the patch that had sat over her right eye since well before he’d ever met her.

Kagome tried not to appear intrigued. This woman Inuyasha called to, Kaede, bore an incredible resemblance to Kikyo. It was astonishing how similar they looked, and if it weren’t for some obvious discrepancies, Kagome was concerned she wouldn’t have been able to tell the difference. Kaede had a little more color to her skin, and wore her hair in a different style. It was a bit shorter, lighter in shade, and she was either missing her right eye or no longer had the use of it. A mere coincidence was all it was; it had just caught her off guard. Given that, her focus wavered incredibly, the dizziness fogging her head making it difficult for her to put any more thought into the inconsequential matter.

“Well, well,” She began as soon as she was close enough, her attention bouncing carefully between Inuyasha and the girl on his arm. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah, yeah. No lip, Kaede.” Inuyasha groaned. He’d expected this. It was Kaede’s personal hobby to give him shit.

“Usually, you space out your visits better, Inuyasha. It’s been, what, two weeks this time around?”

“Look,” He leaned in closer, hearing Kagome’s thick swallow. “We need a room. With room service.”

Kaede understood the code he spoke, not reacting to keep suspicion at bay. She took one more glance at the girl on his arm, noticing her pasty skin that shined with dew. She kept a level gaze, one with a calm expression to accompany it, and Kaede could only tell something was definitely wrong with close studying. It was the way her fingers bit into the half demon’s arm, and the way her irises lacked glimmer. It was the way the hanyou allowed her to touch him, allowed her to be so close, and even so much as stroked the tops of her fingers soothingly. Nothing needed to be said more to express the urgency of the situation, and the code was taken to heart quickly.

She bent down, grabbing her guest book as per usual, moving as quickly as nonchalance would allow. This was customary, and Inuyasha was well aware. Still, he cleared his throat to push her faster and Kaede looked up at him to notice the steadfast stare he was giving. This was much more serious than she thought. She knew exactly which room she was going to put them in; it was one of the few designated for this specific scenario, so she pretended to look at the book for one more moment, scribbling down a quick, illegible note before shutting it, putting it in its rightful spot, and heading to the back for the key.

“Totosai, you’re up!” She shouted as she walked back out to the front, hearing the old man give a grunt of acknowledgement.

“What!? Kaede, baby, where you going?” One of the drunken men whined, pouting from the opposite side of the counter.

“Oh, hush. Totosai will be keeping you company for a while. I’ve got guests to tend to.”

“But, he doesn’t have tits!”

“Neither do I!” She laughed, gesturing to the small chest beneath her bodice. Her long skirt twirled slightly as she spun around to walk in Inuyasha’s direction, hastening her pace.

Kaede lifted the counter door to come out to the front of the bar, notching her head to the side for Inuyasha and his female companion to follow. They all kept quiet as they walked through the back doorway, down the hall, and up two flights of stairs, but from behind, she could hear Inuyasha whispering. Taking a little peek, Kaede saw the girl covering her mouth, seeming unsteady, nodding as Inuyasha spoke softly to her.

Inuyasha had grabbed Kagome’s hand as soon as he noticed she was struggling to keep her composure, allowing her to squeeze, the arm she once held onto reaching behind her back to support her around her waist. “Just a little further, okay? You’re almost there.”

“What the hell did you do this time?” Kaede ridiculed as she reached their designated room, sliding her key into the bolt.

“Open the door!” Inuyasha demanded, and Kaede threw it open, allowing them to rush inside.

Kagome was only able to make it to the small trashcan in the bathroom entry, crumbling to her hands and knees as her stomach twisted painfully to rid itself of the nothing it contained. Her throat burned horribly from the bile, and her chest and abdominal muscles ached from the heaving. Inuyasha never left her side, quick to scoop her hair out of the way.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” She whimpered through her bodies unmanageable retching.

“It’s fine, you know it’s fine. You can’t control this.” He replied, taking the small break in her vomiting to pull her bow, arrows, and bag off of her shoulders, freeing the space of her back to rub as she coughed, shuddered, and wheezed. He muttered the rest of his reply. “Fuck, it’s gotta hurt by now.”

After shutting the door behind her, Kaede followed the two into the bathroom, her heart aching for the discomfort the girl on the floor was currently in. She was careful in her approach, grabbing a washcloth off the shelf and kneeling on the opposite side of her as Inuyasha.

“Sweetie, what happened to you?” She asked, but the girl heaved and couldn’t answer. Kaede’s hand flew to her low back instinctually, matching Inuyasha’s rhythm and rubbing gently. She redirected her question to Inuyasha. “What’s going on? What happened?”

“I’ll be one-hundred percent honest with you: I don’t exactly know, myself.” He admitted. It seemed Kagome was finally done puking, so he pulled the trash bin from beneath her so she wouldn’t have to look at it and released her hair, allowing it to sit along her back, shorter strands falling over the fronts of her shoulders with gravity. Kaede handed Kagome the washcloth, and she took it gratefully, wiping her mouth but remaining folded forward. She was so weak, her quaking muscles felt throughout her entire body, and Inuyasha couldn’t quite bring himself to take his hand off her upper back just yet. She’d thrown up five times, and the violent convulsing her body had been doing was ostensibly painful.

“Give me something to work with.”

“Alright,” Inuyasha sighed. Kagome wasn’t going to like this. In preparation, he applied some firm pressure on her back where his hand now braced against her, his other hand grasping her wrist to keep her glued to the floor. “She’s a conjurer.”

Kagome gasped, her attention snapping his way, and he was glad he’d pinned her the way she sat because he felt her arm jerk like she was about to hit him out of reflex. He was quick to speak, to calm her down, saying, “Kagome, I had to! Nothing’s going to happen! I swear!”

“Sweetie, it’s okay! It’s okay!” Kaede jumped in, now wary of how she touched the jittery girl before her. “You’re safe here.”

Kagome’s brown eyes landed on her, her plush, bottom lip quivering as her bloodshot eyes watered. The world was ugly, and Kaede could tell, much like everyone else nowadays, that this girl wasn’t spared from a damn thing. She felt the fear that she wasn’t born with, but was forced to learn in order to survive. It was crippling. It was debilitating. How could Kagome expect to trust a living soul when they didn’t understand the life she lived or the spirit she harbored? Kaede knew all of this from personal experience.

“Listen to me, I’m an ally. No one outside of this room will find out who or what you are, I can guarantee that. I know the importance. I used to have a conjurer in my family.” Kaede said, making sure her message was coming across clearly. She may not know what it was to be a conjurer, but she knew the details involved. She grew up with it all.

Kagome studied her, still trembling but gradually calming. “You did?” She finally asked, barely above a whisper.

“Yeah.”

She said used to. Kagome’s heart twinged thinking of who could have been taken from her. Not even she was pardoned from the harsh reality that they faced. She couldn’t bring herself to say something aloud, though. She couldn’t imagine it was an easy topic to talk about, and as much as she wanted to express her sorrow that Kaede had lost someone she may have been close to, she just couldn’t right now.

Inuyasha’s grip eased off of her, his hand releasing her wrist. As soon as she was free, Kagome turned and swatted his stomach with the back of her hand, making him wince.

“A warning next time!”

“You would have just said no!” Inuyasha argued.

“I would have had every right to!”

“I’m trying to help, you idiot!”

“With proper warning, at least I wouldn’t have been caught off guard! I might have agreed if you had just taken a moment to explain things to me!”

“Go back to throwing up! You were surprisingly less annoying!”

“Oh, look at that! Your maturity level is showing again!”

“Shut up, dumbass!”

“Great comeback, genius!”

“Uh - hello?” Kaede chimed, interrupting their yelling match. As soon as Kagome’s head whipped her way to take notice, it seemed some dizziness caught her, her eyes shutting as she swayed slightly, and a small groan coming from her throat. Both she and Inuyasha reached to stabilize her, and it was easy to tell Kagome’s nausea was biting. Whatever energy she had remaining should not be spent arguing with this half demon nitwit.

“Hah! You can’t even fight back without getting sick.” Inuyasha teased, his arrogant expression falling as soon as Kagome shot a glare his way. He reached for the trashcan just in case, but Kagome shook her head, saying that she wasn’t going to throw up.

“Look, Inuyasha did the right thing by bringing you here.” Kaede spoke, taking away any opportunity from Inuyasha to instigate anything more with Kagome. “I’ve saved his ass many, many times.”

“Excuse you. You make it easy for me to lay low. I wouldn’t necessarily call that saving my ass.” He objected.

“The only reason you ever need to lay low is because you’ve pissed someone off and given them cause to hunt you down. The justifications don’t matter; the facts stand. For every action, there’s a reaction. And, that’s where I come in. You stay here so they won’t detect you while you’re vulnerable. Therefore, I’ve saved your ass.”

“You’re looking too deep, but whatever makes you feel better.” He huffed.

“You know what would make me feel better right now?”

Inuyasha rolled his eyes dramatically, grinding his jaw to the side and releasing a slow, grumbly exhale. He knew damn well Kaede was only going to tell him to stop talking, so he threw in the towel. She was good at winning arguments, and he wasn’t in the fucking mood for it. He leaned his back against the wall, letting Kaede’s attention fall back on Kagome.

“As I was saying, I know a thing or two about enchantments. I’m no expert, and if I’m being honest, my speciality lies in plants and their potentially-magical properties, but I get by enough for this inn, specifically, to be known as a resting point for those who need to take it easy. Not well known, of course. Couldn’t have that. But, known enough for some of the damned to wander through. Outside, there’s a deterrent. It sort of pushes all scents away and throughout town where it’ll dwindle, so if anyone is tracing you that way, they’ll lose it. I’ve also got a few, exclusive rooms, this one included, that have specially created flower bundles in the closets that mask the smell of the occupants. They’re not potent, so they neither harm the sensitive noses of dog demons, nor attract attention by standing out. They simply mask. Took forever to figure out the proper assortment, but I eventually got it.” Kaede shrugged humbly, hoping all these tidbits would help Kagome feel more secure.

“How did you learn all that?” Kagome inquired softly, pushing herself back to lean against the wall of the bathtub. Inuyasha bent forward as she did so, pulling her things out of her way to clear the spot for her.

“Well, I admired my sister for being a conjurer.” Kaede began to explain, smiling fondly. “She found out who she was in a time when it wasn’t kill or be killed, and she took every opportunity to learn what she could do from whomever could teach her. I followed her everywhere; it didn’t matter how much it annoyed her. I wished so badly to be like her, but of course that wasn’t possible. So, we found something else for me. Something I could teach myself along the way so long as I was disciplined and dedicated, and to be anything near resemblance of my sister you had to be. It’s not new age or modern practices either; I reached for the ancient texts that taught me things that seem to have been lost in translation over the centuries. That’s what helps me get away with it. It’s old magic, so it’s harder to figure out when you’re in the presence of it.”

Kagome gifted a faint smile toward Kaede. Truthfully, it was all extremely enthralling, and Kagome wanted to know more. She just couldn’t concentrate all too well at the moment. Asking for more details required a level of energy she didn’t currently obtain, and if she ever heard the expansion of Kaede’s background, she wanted to be perfectly cognizant. More importantly, she didn’t want to invalidate the message the woman was putting across. She was describing why Kagome was secure to let her guard down, she was being straight forward in letting her know that Inuyasha didn’t let her secret slip to the wrong party. He had reason, and he didn’t betray her. He’d brought Kagome to the safest place he knew of, and Kagome wasn’t unaware of how far he’d gone and traveled to bring them here. Shifting her head to the side, she transferred her grin to Inuyasha in a silent thank you. His head rested against the wall, his eyes hardly open and unfocused on her.

“So, you’re a conjurer.” Kaede mentioned, bringing the issue back to the forefront. “That doesn’t really tell me what happened.”

She waited patiently for either of her guests to speak, and Inuyasha’s eyes blinked fully opened, an arm perched on his raised knee.

“Again, it’s kind of hard to say. Everything happened so fucking fast. One minute I was being ambushed, the next I wasn’t. Kagome showed up and cleared the field.”

“Cleared the field?” Kaede asked, reaching for clarification.

“Yeah. She cleared the field. Not a single bandit left in sight.”

“What do you mean? How?”

“With an arrow.” He said.

“A-as in, one?” She switched her attention to Kagome. “Sweetie, you only used one arrow?”

“Mhm.” She hummed unenthusiastically. Kagome was so exhausted, so drained, that reactions were far from her reach. She could barely manage a nod at that point, her eyes half-lidded as she looked at the woman across from her. Within, she felt slightly bashful and still a little uneasy about talking about everything. She reassured herself that it was okay, though. She was safe. Kaede and Inuyasha were allies.

“I’m sorry, I’m having a little trouble wrapping my head around this. How many men were there?” Kaede asked, the look of shock written all over her face.

“Fuck if I know.” Inuyasha answered with a shrug of his brows. “A shit ton, and that wasn’t even all of them. A second wave was hiding within the trees.”

“Against one person!? What the hell did you do!?”

“Killed their leaders. They were rapists.” He stated simply.

“Oh. Fuck them then.” Kaede waved off, unsurprised and heading right back toward their main topic. “With one arrow, though? How did you do it?”

“I just did it.” Kagome replied.

“That’s - that’s incredible.” Kaede nearly laughed out of astonishment. “That’s so strong - you’re so strong. I’ve never seen that done. How long have you been able to do something like this, if you don’t mind my asking? This is just so fascinating to me.”

“Um -“ Kagome wasn’t quite sure how to answer that. She didn’t really know what she’d done to conjure that much power in the first place, so it felt weird merely taking credit for it even though it came from no one else but herself. The truth was all she could give, and as anticlimactic as it was, there was nothing more to it. “Since this afternoon.”

“Oh.” Kaede blinked, a little confused. “You’ve never done that before?”

Kagome hummed a no, adding a minor shake to her head.

“I’m sorry if this seems like an interrogation now, but um…” Kaede’s amazement waned as she digested what Kagome had just admitted. An entire series of new questions were coursing through her head now, empowering her need to gain a better understanding of Kagome’s power, what had taken place, and the reason for her current state. Truthfully, she was pretty sure she’d figured out the mystery already. She just wanted to be absolutely certain before saying it out loud. “You knew you were a conjurer before this, right?”

“Yeah. I’ve known since I was a little girl.”

“Okay, and I’m assuming you’re a practicing conjurer?”

“Yeah.” Kagome confirmed.

“What was your biggest move? By that I mean, how much power have you ever exerted at one time?”

Kagome was a little perplexed by that one, unsure how to answer. Was she looking for a percentage? Because, Kagome had no clue. She glanced over at Inuyasha, hopeful that he would be able to simplify the question, but he seemed to be waiting for her response just as much as the woman opposite her. “Like, how many demons have I exterminated at one time?”

“Sure.” Kaede complied, bobbing her head. “What’s the most you’ve taken out with one strike?”

“Three or four.” Kagome said. “Though, it wasn’t in the same manner as today. I didn’t just sweep my power through; I sort of skewered them.”

“Were they big?”

“I mean, in size, sure. They were long. They weren’t very strong, though. Most demons I’ve encountered and practiced on were incompetent. Not humanoid by any means. They were the mindless killing machines that flocked in pairs and liked to eat whatever they could encounter. Really gross-looking. Not too hard to take out. My cousin could kill some with just his hands and staff, if that helps paint a picture at all.”

“Not really giving yourself much credit, kid. Those fuckers are easy game.” Inuyasha said.

“I’m being honest. I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve taken down larger demons, but they were alone. One at a time. I mean, even before I got back to you today, I took out three guys, but again, it was one at a time. That’s easy for me. I figured, the more I kill at one time, the more power I’m using, right? So, that’s my answer.”

“Wait, wait. You faced three demons before clearing the field!? Who?”

“No,” Kaede interrupted, holding her hand up toward Inuyasha so he’d stop talking. “That’s not important right now. Sweetie, did you just say killing larger demons was easy for you?”

“Oh god, no. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean it was easy, per se. I didn’t mean to sound so insensitive. Taking a life is never -“

“That’s not what she meant, dumbass.” Inuyasha interjected, rolling his amber eyes. “She was asking if it was an easy task. Like, does it make you break a sweat?”

“Oh. Well, no not really.” She said, her worry of offense fading away. She’d realized how what she’d said could be twisted to sound as if she were a heartless, killing machine of a conjurer, which would be painted dark, so she’d panicked that that was what Kaede had thought. The moment her concern was dispersed, she breathed out a sigh. “Not anymore, at least. I really utilized all of my time training on the lower-grade demons to figure out how much power is too much, how much is too little, so on and so forth. So, by the time I ended up incidentally facing my first - er - competent demon in a sense, I had an approximation of how much spiritual power I should need to eliminate them. I was wrong, of course. But, from that point on, I had a general idea of what to do and how to do it, so it got substantially easier. Why? Where are we going with this?”

“And, how much power was in that punch?” Inuyasha pressed.

“I don’t know what you’re looking for with that question.” Kagome huffed. “I can’t give you a percentage, because I apparently don’t know where one-hundred sits for me. I thought I was giving my all, but then today happened and Kaede’s been giving me that look for five minutes now.”

“It’s just - Kagome, has there ever been a time where you’ve been in a charged match and gotten exhausted or sick afterward?” Kaede inquired.

“Tired, yes. That’s kind of normal, though. It’s physical exertion. Sick, no. Never. Wait, are you linking the occurrences together?”

“Doesn’t it make sense?”

“I mean, I figured it was because I freaked out?” Kagome asked more than stated, completely uncertain of everything now.

“What?” Inuyasha’s expression twisted incredulously.

“Haven’t you ever been so nervous it made you feel nauseous?”

“No.”

“Well, lucky you. I have. I honestly thought it was the combination of the stress of being found out on top of all the horrible demonic energy in the air, and it made me sick.”

“Okay, that is a possibility. I won’t dismiss that.” Kaede said. “Or, it was because you pushed yourself way passed your normal limits and this is the backlash.”

Kagome looked at Kaede, waiting for further explanation. What did she mean by backlash?

“Think of it this way: Let’s say what you did to save Inuyasha was your one-hundred and what you’ve been doing averages between twenty and forty percent. You’ve never gone passed forty, but today, somehow, you jumped all the way to one-hundred. That’s more than just your typical, physical exertion. You completely depleted your body and took from backup sources you may have, as well. Keeping up?”

“I - I think so…”

“Any sort of power you have has to be maintained through exercise. Just like muscle and strength; it’s all in the same realm. You just need to practice what fits your needs best. You can’t just decide to get toned and go straight to lifting fifty-pounds. You have to work your way up. Start small and build stamina. If someone regularly lifts thirty pounds but then jumps for something significantly heavier, let’s say twice that, they run the risk of hurting themselves. Well, it’s unfortunately the same for those with supernatural abilities.”

“But, if someone tries to lift something out of their scale, they usually can’t. Like, those huge sacks of rice, for instance. It’s too heavy for me to carry. I can drag it, but lifting it onto my shoulders like my cousin is damn near impossible because I don’t have the muscle for it. So, how would someone go from thirty to sixty? In that same regard, how would I go from forty to one hundred?”

“If you’ve got enough endorphins running through you, you sometimes lose the ability to mind the boundaries your body sets. You don’t feel the limitations of pain and strain.” Inuyasha added.

“So, what happened, Kagome? What happened before you did it?” Kaede asked.

“I - I don’t know. I honestly don’t know.” She answered, her brown eyes drifting to the bathroom floor beneath her legs.

“How the hell do you not know?” Inuyasha ridiculed. “It’s your body, your power, so where’s the miscommunication?”

“I mean, I don’t know. I’m doing my best, Inuyasha.” Kagome snapped back, glaring at the hanyou, nearly matching his tone and scorning demeanor. “I didn’t have anyone to help me while growing up. I had zero resources to learn from. When we found out that I was a conjurer, my family chose to shelter me. I was too young to understand, and I wasn’t the type to rebel, so I minded my father’s requests to keep it a secret. He was the only link to knowledge about my powers that I had because he traveled, and personally, I thought I was thriving. It wasn’t until I was around ten or so that I realized he was merely teaching me how to control, conceal, and channel it into my arrows. Basic-level techniques. After he died, and especially after Naraku rose to power, I took it upon myself to figure out what I could do, but that meant my one and only resource was trial and error. I will openly admit that I don’t know everything I should know, but I am also trying. I don’t know what I did because I had never done it before. I heard you were being attacked and ran to make sure you were okay. I saw you were swarmed and didn’t have your big, fancy sword, and I can tell you the only thing going through my mind then was that I didn’t want them to kill you. I felt something unrecognizable inside of me, but there was no time to understand it. If I had stopped to figure out where the sensation was coming from, you could have died So, I just went with it.”

Inuyasha stared at her, a look of disbelief on his face. He’d wondered how she’d known about his predicament in the first place, but he hadn’t found the opportunity to ask. Still, it wasn’t the right time to get all the details he currently lacked and desperately wanted to understand. Kagome had really ran to him to help? She didn’t want him to die? He could tell her passion was from her irritation with him, but that didn’t mean he wasn’t dumbfounded by her admittance. That didn’t mean he wasn’t awestruck by the way she heatedly expressed herself in the moment, despite her paled skin, dark under eye circles, and noticeable enervation. Despite the way she held onto her stomach and frowned at him, the way her bangs clung to her forehead from the sweat soaking her flesh, there was still a fire behind her vibrant irises while she waited for him to reply with an argument. He had none, though. His lips sealed and his cheeks flushed, feeling the newfound heat of his own face as blood rushed through, and he brought his hand before his mouth, looking away from her ardent gaze.

“So,” Inuyasha spoke, his attention now on Kaede. “What happens if she does more?”

“What do you mean?”

“Saying her attack today was her one-hundred was merely hypothetical. Truthfully, I think she’s got more potential than that.”

“Oh, I agree. For all we know, that could have been her seventy percent.”

“Right. So, what happens if she does exhibit one-hundred percent before she’s fully capable of handling it? What sort of repercussions would she be looking at?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure. My knowledge is limited, and I never saw my sister do anything as strong as what you said Kagome had done. She’ll probably get incredibly sick; much worse than she is now. And, it’ll take a while to come back from it. Might even physically hurt her. Again, these are all guesses, so none of my answers are definitive. Hopefully, we’ll never have to find out.” Kaede answered. She watched Kagome nod in acknowledgment, her eyes closing as she sighed out and slowly dropped her head back to lay against the rim of the bathtub. The way her eyebrows pinched together slightly spoke of her concentration to subdue the nausea she was battling, probably inwardly pleading with her body not to puke anymore.

She took that moment to crawl a little closer to the girl. Very gently, Kaede placed her hand against Kagome’s cheek, feeling the scorching heat of her skin. Her palm traveled to her forehead to confirm her fever, then the side of her bruised neck. The poor girl was burning up, gaze half-lidded as she blinked her eyes open.

“Alright, first things first, we need to get you cleaned up. I’ll run a bath, and -“

“No, I’m fine. It’s okay, I’ll be fine. Thank you.” Kagome didn’t want to trouble anyone anymore than she already had. She just needed to sleep this off. If her body needed recuperation, then a bath could wait.

“You’re slick with sweat and dirt, Kagome. You’ve been physically ill. Please, just trust me. I want to help.”

“You’re doing what she says.” Inuyasha instructed, pushing himself to a stand as he grabbed her things to remove them from the bathroom. “You look about ready to keel over, kid. Let her help you.”

How did she get here? How did all of this happen? Since the day she’d left home, Kagome felt like everything had gone so wrong. It was all so close together, one thing after the next. Was this really what was meant to happen, or had she taken a wrong turn somewhere down Murphy’s Law Lane? Kagome swallowed thickly, but this time it wasn’t bile she suppressed. It was the unmitigated density of failure. It was the urge to cry, to damn herself, to give into the pressure of everything that had occurred since Naraku’s henchmen visited her village. She wouldn’t be in this position if she were stronger, if she were remotely as experienced as Kikyo was.

How could she have avoided this? What could she have done differently to prevent this outcome? How could she improve? Was this nature’s course, or was Kagome a basket case? All of this applied weight to her shoulders, her stomach, and she again swallowed, pushing the thoughts as far away from the forefront of her mind as she possible could for the time being. There was nothing she could do about it at the moment, and the last thing she wanted, on top of everything else, was for the two people who tried to help her see her breakdown.

“Alright, Inuyasha. I’ve got it from here.” Kaede assured him, smiling gently as she got the water flowing.

“I’ll be right out here if you need anything.” He said, closing the bathroom door behind him.

Once the tub was full and ready to go, Kaede assisted Kagome in getting undressed, unwrapping her bandaged hand, and getting her in the bath. The silence was a little uncomfortable, but nothing else could be expected. There was no need to force conversation or make Kagome talk. As long as her eyes were open and she was expressing awareness as she washed up, it wasn’t necessary to press her further for more. So, Kaede gently washed her hair, wanting to do anything she could to help provide a small sense of comfort for her.

“Do you have a change of clothes, dear?”

“Yeah. In my bag.” Kagome nodded.

“Inuyasha took it with him. I’ll go grab something for you.” Kaede smiled, heading toward the door. “You stay in the bath. I’ll be right back.”

“What’s up? Need something?” Inuyasha asked as Kaede came out and headed straight for Kagome’s belongings.

She sort of hummed a reply, not much of an actual answer though as she shifted through, pulling out some clothes. “None of these look very comfortable. Does she not have pajamas?”

“Given her circumstances, I don’t think she planned for comfort. I’m thinking she was leaning more towards practicality.”

“Her circumstances?”

“She left home. Long story. Not mine to tell.”

“Gotcha. Well, she’s bedridden until further notice, so practicality is out the window. I’ll go grab her something of mine real fast. Can you listen out for her in case she needs anything. The door’s cracked, so you can hear better.”

“Mhm.” He grunted, pointing to the ears atop his head. Opened, closed, didn’t matter. He’d hear her. As Kaede left the room, Inuyasha propped his temple up with his fist, his elbow resting on the arm of the cushioned seat he took residence in in the corner of the bedroom.

If he was exhausted, he could only imagine the deteriorated stamina of the human in the other room. A conjurer. She was a fucking conjurer. Guess she really wasn’t joking when she said she could take him. If she could empty a large area full of enemies, he wondered what she could truly do. If Kagome was fully trained, confident, and as powerful as she was meant to become, what were her limitations - if any? He was colored impressed, intrigued, and also a little terrified. Not because of what she was. It was because of her strength, the head on her shoulders, and very clear level of determination.

He knew there was something more to her, he knew his gut hadn’t led him astray. It was never wrong, she was just good at keeping secrets. According to her, she’d had plenty of practice with this particular one. And, she’d only let it slip in order to save his life. She’d made that sacrifice despite her own potentially being on the line. Kagome was undeniably brave, and when he thought deeper into it, Inuyasha could see just how mentally strong the girl had to be. He wondered what made her head out on her own. Was she actually looking for somebody? If so, who? What sort of business was this conjurer up to? What had she been through?

Truthfully, that’s what scared him. The answers to those questions. From her, he expected nothing but some impactful response in the fewest words imaginable. He didn’t know a damn thing about her character other than her attitude, and yet he was still capable of saying that he’d never met anyone like her. It unsettled him. It made him uncomfortable to think highly of another. Especially in such a short amount of time. He wanted to continue on thinking she was just another weak human. He wanted to go forward believing she couldn’t take care of herself, that she was a magnet for trouble, that she was nothing short of sloppy, and stupid, and reckless, and while some of that may actually be true, an uncontrollable part of him attempted to dissuade those thoughts.

From his spot, the smallest sniffle reached his ears. It was trembling and hushed. It was broken, the shuddering inhale proceeding it grasping at his heart. And again, the question presented itself to Inuyasha. What had Kagome been through? What broke her right now? Was she hurting? Scared? For the first time in ages, Inuyasha felt sympathy for another. He wished whatever pressed her in this moment lifted. He didn’t want her to feel fear, he wanted her to believe them when they swore she was safe and protected. He didn’t want her to feel pain, because that’s all he’s seen sketched on her flesh since he’d met her. Inuyasha sincerely wanted Kagome to rest, to trust him, to feel comfortable, and to heal.

Kaede returned promptly, and Kagome cleared her tears, rinsing her face with the warm water she soaked in.

“What’s that?” She asked, noticing the garment that Kaede unfolded and set out.

“It didn’t look like you had anything comfortable to sleep in, so I went and got you a night gown of my own. Hopefully it fits you.” She smiled. “Come on, let’s get you dry.”

Grabbing a towel, she helped Kagome out of the tub, allowing her to dry herself off as she stabilized her. The gown draped down to her shins, the sleeves ending at her forearms, and the white complimenting her sweetly. She’d definitely sleep better in this than she would in a tight pair of pants. Kaede took to drying Kagome’s hair, really ringing it with the towel until she got the majority of the moisture out. The last thing they needed was for her wet hair to get cold and potentially worsen her fever.

“Thank you so much for this. All of this.” Kagome softly spoke, her lowered gaze communicating her bashfulness.

Kaede brushed the girl’s hair behind her ears, replying with a gentle grin before grabbing her hand to slowly guide her out of the bathroom and to the bed.

Inuyasha stood in case they needed help, having personally witnessed firsthand Kagome’s unsteadiness, but Kaede got the blankets pulled back and helped Kagome move on her own just fine.

“Alright, I’ll be back in a bit with some food and medicine. Inuyasha, you wash up next. You stink.” Kaede said.

“Dick.”

“Yeah, that’s it. That’s what you smell like. The musty kind that hasn’t been washed in -“

The hanyou groaned loudly to cut her off, shoving her head aside as he stomped past her and into the bathroom. Kaede laughed, turning back to make sure Kagome was comfortable before heading out of the room.

For the moment, it was quiet. Kagome could feel her body sinking into the bedding, but she was blisteringly hot beneath the layered blankets. As much as she wanted to let go of her grievances and close her eyes, ignore the burden of her fever and just go to sleep, her stomach twisted and bunched painfully, making it impossible to relax. As if she wasn’t uneasy enough as it was, her body seemed to have a goal to worsen the experience for her. Why was it that when she overextended herself, she got physically sick? What an abnormal reaction to have. Sure, if someone pushed themselves to run a faster mile, they could potentially throw up. But, have flu-like symptoms? Unheard of. Being a conjurer was weird. Supernatural powers were weird. Everything that was happening to her, all weird.

Taking her mind off of the sleep she so woefully wanted, Kagome raised her left palm to take note of the progress of her healing cut. It really wasn’t all that bad anymore. She was glad there were no signs of infection. It wasn’t very pretty, the edges of her nicked flesh harboring a bit of pink coloration, but it wasn’t bleeding or oozing anything, so that was definitely a good sign. She’d give it another two days before she didn’t need to bandage it up any longer. For the meantime, she should take the proper precautions to keep it improving.

She moved slowly, minding the weakness of her muscles as she sat up and uncovered herself, moving her legs to sit on the edge of the bed. Kagome stood to cross the room to get to her things, pretending the dizziness wasn’t there, pretending the room wasn’t wobbling from side-to-side in the slightest, taking one firm step at a time.

“Hey!” Came Inuyasha’s loud voice at the halfway mark, and Kagome froze, jolting slightly from how direct his shout was. She’d almost thought he was behind her for a moment, but after glancing around, she realized he was yelling from the bathroom.

“Inuyasha?” Kagome asked timidly.

“The fuck are you doing?”

“Huh?”

“What - the fuck - are you doing?”

“What do you mean?” She wasn’t even raising her voice to make sure he heard her through the walls. That sort of energy was out of her reach. She was indisputably confused, though. Why was he yelling at her? What was wrong?

“You’re out of bed. For what?”

How the hell did he know? Could he actually hear her with those ears of his? Were they that sharp? Or, was he just paying such close attention to any sounds of movement that he caught the pads of her feet hitting the wooden flooring? Or, both?

“I wanted my medical kit. I need to wrap my hand.” She responded with a little more tenacity in her tone.

“Is it bleeding?”

“No.”

“Then get your ass back in bed. It can wait.”

“But -“

“Lay down.”

“Inuyasha -“

“Lay down!”

Kagome groaned and she did it loudly, stomping her feet as she went back to the mattress and plopped her butt down. Was it childish? Absolutely. But, she hoped each noise she’d intentionally made hurt his stupid, dog-like ears. Woozy repercussions be damned.

She adjusted the pillows against the headboard so that she could comfortably prop herself up, sitting back against them and pulling the horribly hot blankets over her legs again. She was old enough to know that it was best to stay covered while you had a fever, but that never once stopped her from wanting to kick them off. With everything irritating her right now, her head beginning to throb, Kagome felt the aggravated pout form on her face. She’d never been the type to like to stay in bed and wait out an illness. Her brother could sleep for days and be perfectly comfortable, but she hated not being able to do basic things to take care of herself.

“God, you’re such a baby.” Inuyasha murmured, coming out of the bathroom moments later. He wore the same pants as before, but was shirtless, water dripping down the ends of his long, silver hair and over the skin of his chest. He used his towel to rub through his tresses, and thankfully his amber eyes were aimed at her things while he crossed the room so he wouldn’t notice the way Kagome glanced at him only to quickly redirect her gaze at the surprise of his half-naked appearance.

The fever was going to her head. Had to be. Her eyes seemed to have a mind of their own as they drifted over to his back as he passed her, taking notice of the swell of his defined muscles while he walked, crouched down at her bag and dug out the box she’d wanted. She appreciated the way little movements made him flex, the way his physique contoured when he stood, even the definition of the arm he used to dry his cleaned hair. It wasn’t until he turned back to her that she noticed the cut on his shoulder, deep and angry and swollen. Little bruises littered his flesh, small scrapes adorning his sides and the right half of his chest. He hadn’t left the battle unscathed - of course, he hadn’t - and she felt horrible for just now noticing.

“Your arm.”

“It’s fine. Give me a sec and I’ll bandage your hand.” He said absentmindedly, dropping the kit on the far edge of the bed as he sauntered back to the bathroom.

“But, doesn’t it hurt?”

“Not really.” He replied from the other room.

“Rotten liar.”

“I’m not lying. I can barely feel it.”

“Then let me look at it.”

“You just saw it.”

“No, I mean let me look at it.”

“Hang on.” He said, ringing his hair as dry as he could before pulling it back into an untidy ponytail. Inuyasha came back out and presented the cut to Kagome, sarcasm written all over his face as he gestured to it carelessly so she could see, and then reached over to grab the medical supplies to completely disregard his wound.

“Inuyasha, you know what I meant. Let me see it. Please.” Kagome tried, biting back the annoyance in her tone. With a huff from the half demon, he sat down beside her, allowing her to get a good look at the wound on his shoulder. While she had the chance, she jabbed her finger just above it, receiving the full reaction she’d expected as he jerked away with a pained groaned, snatching her hand with a vice grip. “Looks like that hurt.”

“Fucking duh!” He snapped.

“I knew you were lying.” Kagome giggled lethargically.

“You’re not supposed to touch it!”

“You should let me bandage it up.”

“That’s not necessary.” Inuyasha said with clenched teeth, tossing her hand away. “It’ll be gone by morning.”

“I know you have the ability to heal faster than humans do, but I still think this will last a solid couple of days. Everything else will be gone by morning, sure. But, this? Probably not.”

“That doesn’t mean it requires bandaging. It’s not even bleeding anymore.”

“It’s still prone to infection.”

Inuyasha scoffed.

“Want me to poke it again?”

“Do it and I’ll poke your stomach and talk about vomit.”

“You fight dirty.” Kagome grimaced, protecting her core. “Just let me -“

“No.”

“Please?”

“Why?”

“I want to help.”

“I don’t need any.”

“Looks like you do.”

“I don’t.”

“Please?”

“Oh my god, Kagome.”

“Please?” She knew she was aggravating him, and as good as she didn’t feel, it was hard to hide her grin. Every huff of irritation he gave, every scrunch of the skin between his brows from the way they furrowed together, and every roll of his eyes was amusing to her right now. He was reaching his limits, but he wasn’t going to snap. He was going to fold.

“Will it make you shut up?”

“Yes.”

“I really don’t need it.”

“Please?”

“Stop it.”

“Ple-“

“Jesus fuck, just shut up and do it already.”

Kagome beamed with a prideful smile, taking the kit from him and reaching for the cleaning solution and cotton balls. “Jeez, if you wanted me to bandage you up so bad, you should have just asked, Inuyasha.”

The hanyou slowly turned his head to look at her, an infuriated expression written into his straight-set lips and glazed, amber eyes.

“I’m kidding, I’m sorry. I’m shutting up.” She promised, laughing but also taking his warning to heart.

He didn’t say a thing while she cleaned his wound. She knew the solution stung only from the minor flinch in his muscles, but other than that, he stared at the ground, allowing her to work. Kagome didn’t expect nor need any form of gratitude from Inuyasha for dressing his wound; she’ll admit it was more for herself than him. It made her feel more comfortable knowing his chances of infection were slimmed down, and it also made her feel better contributing to anything she could in her debilitated state. Maybe he knew that was what she wanted which is how she could tell he was going to eventually let her bandage him up. Or, maybe she just genuinely annoyed him and he truly did want nothing more than to silence her. Either way, when he addressed her with a mere shrug of his brows as she finished, Kagome wasn’t offended.

She didn’t wait for him to take anything from her to wrap her hand. She could do it on her own, and she took to cleaning it out. Inuyasha remained beside her, watching her struggle a little with the bandages and anticipating a reason he’d need to interfere and take over. When she gave him none, the hanyou reached up, pushing her bangs aside to place his palm to her forehead.

“Fuck, you’re burning up.” He commented. “How’s your stomach?”

“Hurts. I’m queasy, but I don’t feel like I’m about to throw up.” She responded, putting everything back into her kit and shutting it.

“You should lay down.”

Kagome shook her head, slightly disgruntled. “Not comfortable. Don’t want to.”

“Alright, whatever. But, after Kaede comes back with medicine, I don’t want to hear it. You’re going to sleep.”

“Mhm.” Kagome agreed. It was fair, and she really did want that much. She was so unbelievably tired, her body just ached. The sooner she laid down, the sooner she was going to be completely covered by blankets, too. With only half of her body covered, it was sweltering enough. The last thing she wanted was to be buried within the heat right now. On the other hand, she was grateful she wasn’t battling chills on top of it all.

A knock on their door was the only warning that Kaede was entering before she opened it up, carrying a tray with two bowls and a couple containers on the side. The girl set the tray with all of its contents on the little table beside Kagome, handing a bowl to Inuyasha and waving him off.

“Rice and chicken for you.”

That had to be the happiest Kagome had ever seen the half demon, even as he was pushed aside and dismissed to eat his food across the room. He even gifted a “thanks,” before digging in to eat on the cushioned seat in the corner.

“Where’s your shirt?” Kaede asked speculatively.

“It’s torn and has blood all over it, so it’s soaking in water. As much as I trust your witchcraft bouquets, I don’t want to take chances of my blood attracting the wrong noses.”

“Fair enough. I’ll go buy you another from the shop in town tomorrow morning and add it to your tab. Pink would look nice on you.” She teased.

“Yeah, so would that dress you lent Kagome but I would only end up showing up all the women in town with my gorgeous looks, so make it black.”

“Yeah, yeah.” Kaede rolled her eyes and smiled, her attention falling back to her task. “Alright, sweetie. You’re totally gonna hate this, but please just trust me, okay?”

“Uh oh. What are you about to make me take?” She grimaced, eyeing the little containers.

“One of these is for nausea. Tastes awful. The other is to break your fever. Tastes worse and will make you super drowsy pretty quickly. After the medicine, you’ve gotta eat, which I know is probably the last thing you want to do. It’s the only way to keep your strength up though, so you’ve gotta stomach as much as you can. It’s soup and it’s light, so hopefully it won’t upset your nausea too bad before the dose kicks in.”

“Great.” Kagome remarked sardonically, her lack of enthusiasm painfully obvious. Just the smell of food was causing a lump in her throat to swell, an unsettling feeling blooming, but she swallowed it to the best of her abilities.

Kaede opened the first container, a little bottle, pouring a thick liquid out onto a spoon. “Don’t spit it out, okay?”

“That bad?”

“Horrible.”

“I appreciate the warning.” Kagome cringed, mentally preparing as she welcomed the spoon into her mouth. The taste slid onto her tongue and it was a disgusting mixture of spice, what you would imagine manure to taste like, something metallic, and a hint of grape. It took so much, almost too much, willpower to swallow, a burning sensation gliding over her tongue and down her throat, and Kagome brought her knees to her chest as she fought back a whine, burying her face in the blankets that draped over her legs.

Inuyasha chuckled at what he’d seen of the girl’s ghastly expression before she’d dramatically hid it, but prior to anything funny or sarcastic he could say, Kagome shot her middle finger up in the air at him. It only made him laugh harder, snorting slightly, but he shut his mouth and refrained from teasing her. Lord knows it would only send her over the edge.

“Here. Water.” Kaede offered. “Just take a sip.”

And, Kagome did just that, hoping the liquid would wash her tongue of the horrid taste. It did not.

“Ready for the next?”

“You said this one is worse?”

“Sure did.” Kaede grinned apprehensively. She shut the nausea medicine and opened up the small container at its side. It was a fine, tan powder, and Kaede took a sheet of paper she’d folded in half, distributing a healthy amount within the crease. “You have to hold this one under your tongue until it completely dissolves. After, you’ll get the soup and forget all about this torture.”

“Until you have to do it again in the morning.” Inuyasha teased a little too happily.

“Shut up or I’ll make you take some.” Kaede reprimanded.

“Not on your life.”

“Try me.” There was something about the calm way she threatened him that actually made Inuyasha uncomfortable, and he heeded it, once again silencing himself as he shoved a spoonful of rice and chicken in his mouth. Kaede was completely human, petite in stature, and looked sweet as can be, but she had the attitude that helped her keep up with your average man. She’d grown up alone for the most part, never let her handicap of one eye slow her down or hold her back, built her business from the ground up, and Inuyasha respected that enough to know that she could put him in his place. She’d done it before. The girl was tough as nails and had to be in order to run the inn that she did, giving a place of refuge for those in need and defying Naraku and his henchmen. He may be physically stronger than she, but still, he’d prefer not to test her.

“Alright, Kagome. Open up.”

Kagome did as she was told, lifting her tongue and allowing Kaede to slide the powder beneath it with the thin, creased paper. At first, it wasn’t so bad. It sat beneath her taste buds, so the worst part was the bubbling of the powder as it mixed with her saliva. But then the saliva rose around the sides of her tongue to pool on top, and the taste hit her. Immediately, it tested her gag reflex, but she resisted, swallowing profusely as she, yet again, buried her face in the blankets on her knees. Kaede soothingly rubbed her back, coaxing her with hushes and apologies. It tasted worse than the bile she’d vomited. It tasted indescribable, and gingery, and pungent, and she wished, as each second passed, that it would just finish dissolving already. It brought tears to her eyes, her nose sniffling from the spiciness, but she waited, and waited, and fought back her nausea, and swallowed over and over and over until the powder was completely gone.

“Here you go, sweetie. Take a bite; it’ll help.” Kaede offered Kagome her food, pushing it closer to her on the tray so she could lean over and take a spoonful in her mouth.

Inuyasha wouldn’t deny that he felt sort of bad for Kagome after that one. As she sat up straight to come out of hiding, taking deep, concentrated breaths to calm herself down before slurping a little bit of soup, he saw some pink on her cheeks. He knew it was an inadvertent reaction to the medicine, but it was still nice to see color on her face again. He knew it would wash away momentarily, her pale features would return until the remedy kicked in, but it was still nice to catch a glimpse of the woman he’d seen just that morning.

“Better?” Kaede softly inquired after Kagome swallowed some soup. Her shoulders had sunken back down, her muscles unclenching, and she hoped the bowl of broth and vegetables was enough to quell the awful taste Kagome had had to endure.

She nodded, swallowing thickly. She was grateful, so grateful, for the flavorful and hot liquid that rinsed away the medicine, but that didn’t mean her stomach was very accommodating to it. With just the few things she’d swallowed, the organ churned and clenched painfully, threatening her to push it all back up her esophagus, so Kagome knew the last thing she could do if she was going to keep the medicine down was eat too quickly. She decidedly set the spoon down to give her body time to steady.

It wasn’t the first Kaede had noticed the markings around Kagome’s neck. She wasn’t blind or daft; she’d seen it the moment she saw the girl standing beside Inuyasha at the counter. Gently, she hooked her finger beneath Kagome’s chin, tilting her head back so she could get a better look at the handprint that encircled the front of her throat.

“Is this from today?”

Kagome’s brown eyes didn’t hold against her own, shying away though she didn’t pull her chin out of her meager grip. In answer, she shook her head.

She didn’t want to talk about it. Not again. Please, not again. Not right now. In no way, shape, or form was she in any mental condition to think about the little conjurer who’d died so violently. She didn’t have the capacity to handle hearing the mother’s screams echoing through her head, to revisit the day she’d watched the light fade from those innocent, blue eyes. Kagome was already battling with herself and how she felt like an absolute failure, and the last thing she wanted was to have each letter tattoo’d into her skin as she recalled how she failed to protect the young girl.

Kaede reached down, holding and examining Kagome’s bandaged hand, remembering the small wound she’d gotten a brief look at along her palm.

“What happened to you, Kagome?”

“Kaede.” Inuyasha’s voice was low but firm. It was both an instruction and warning. He was protecting Kagome, and Kaede swallowed the remaining curiosity she had. He’d mentioned Kagome had left home, mentioned it was a long story that wasn’t his to tell, and considering he seemed to know it well enough to remind Kaede to respect the invisible boundary was all she needed. She wasn’t one to intrude, and the last thing she wanted was to make things worse for Kagome.

“Never mind, sweetheart. Forget I asked.” She smiled compassionately, releasing her as she walked over to the closet. She slid the door open, pulling out a futon and setting it out along the floor. She grabbed a blanket from the top shelf, unfolding it and laying it on the futon, and then grabbed an extra pillow from the shelf, as well, to drop on top. “Inuyasha, your bed.”

He grunted as a response, and Kaede understood the weak excuse of a thank you. “Do you need anything else?”

“Nah,” He shook his head. “Go tend to the pigs downstairs. Let me know if any of them want to get handsy.”

“I can handle it.”

“I don’t care.”

“Go to sleep, you look like a mess.”

“You’re mouthy tonight. Fuck off.”

She giggled, rolling her eyes, taking his empty bowl, and ambling back over to the sick girl. “Kagome, sweetie, please eat as much as you can. Don’t worry about the dish, I’ll come back in the morning and grab it when I check in. Can I get you anything else?”

“No, thank you.” She smiled appreciatively. “You’ve done more than enough.”

Kaede left the room, quietly shutting the door behind her, and Inuyasha was quick to follow over, locking it. He picked up the trashcan on the far side of the bedside table, dropping it closer to Kagome. “Just in case.”

He turned before she could thank him with a grin, walking away and heading straight for the curtain-clad window. The moonlight hit his face as soon as he pulled the edge of the curtain back, eyes studying the outside world, and she wondered if he was checking to see if they were followed. Inuyasha stood there for several minutes, analyzing the streets, his good shoulder leaning against the wall.

Thankfully, her stomach had settled a bit, and Kagome found it a good opportunity to try another bite of her soup. Her muscles still trembled unsteadily, the bowl proving to be heavy, but she clutched it carefully and used her legs as a table for stability. The food was good, but her body really wanted to reject it. The smell of it, as homie as it was, was enough to cause her abdomen to tense rigidly, and even the broth hitting her tongue was sufficient in making her throat warn her that if she pushed herself too much, she was going to end up losing everything she’d just consumed. Just to say she tried, Kagome took one more spoonful in her mouth, avoiding the actual bits of vegetables and just swallowing the broth. That was it; that was all she could handle. So, she put the bowl back on the nightstand and rested her head against the headboard.

Inuyasha watched the streets below cautiously. There wasn’t life out; they were empty, hazed in a blue provided by the night sky and the full moon. The unfortunate reality of being safeguarded by Kaede’s deterrents was it worked both ways. Demons hunting them down would lose their scents, and he couldn’t smell them coming from within the barrier either. It was hard for him at first to really let down his guard, to be completely vulnerable, but just because he didn’t have one of his senses didn’t mean he couldn’t rely on his others. He could hear plenty, and he trusted that if anyone got inside, he’d catch them coming before it was too late.

A soft sigh caught his attention, and Inuyasha glanced back over to Kagome on the bed. Her eyes were glazed over, almost closed, and she seemed to be slumping down in her spot. Kaede wasn’t kidding when she said it was quick.

“Lay down, kid.”

She looked over at him wonderingly, blinking sleepily before sluggishly scooting her butt forward so she could lay down properly. She was struggling to readjust her pillows, and Inuyasha couldn’t help but chuckle before heading over to assist her.

“Jesus, this shit’s really kicking your ass.”

“She said - she said it would be fast.” Kagome mumbled.

“Mhm.” He agreed, slipping his arm around her side to help support her weight as he fixed her pillows. Kagome’s feverish head rested against his shoulder, and he slipped his hand behind it as he slowly laid her down. “She didn’t mention how strong it was though, did she?”

Kagome hummed a no, sinking into the bedding.

“You’re so pathetic.” Inuyasha joked lightly, pulling the blankets over her upper body.

“Am not.” She muttered, eyes closing. “Saved your life.”

“I saved yours right back.”

“Not.”

“Alright, alright. Go to sleep, you dummy.”

He left her alone, sauntering back over to the window to watch out for a while before he’d give in to his own fatigue. It was silent. Comfortable. Kagome’s rhythmic breathing was considerably soothing to him compared to the discomfort she’d been in for hours.

“Inuyasha,” The conjurer breathed, and his ambers eyes darted over to her resting form. Her eyes were still closed, blankets raising with each inhale from her chest, and even though she was shadowed, he could still make out her pale skin.

“Hm?”

“Thank you.” She murmured, bringing a slight flurry to awaken in his chest.

| previous chapter | <- -> | next chapter |

[thehangeddemon]

Waiting for a Tuesday || Self Para || September 14, 2021

☠ WARNING ☠

This work contains graphic descriptions of violence, gore, and torture

Reader discretion is advised

“More tea, sir?”

Xavier glanced up from his newspaper and gave the waiter a pleasant smile. He shook his head. “I’m fine, John, thank you. You can bring me the check as soon as y—”

“Actually, John. Why don’t you go ahead and bring us another pot of tea? Anything but English breakfast,” he added with a chuckle that almost sounded condescending. “I don’t share my son’s fondness for it.”

The waiter watched as a man, who had seemed to appear out of nowhere and was dressed head to toe in black, invited himself to sit opposite Mr. Rossmara. He’d said ‘son’, but he didn’t really look old enough to have a son Mr. Rossmara’s age. He didn’t really resemble him either but that seemed less strange somehow.

What was strange was the way Mr. Rossmara was looking at the man across from him. He looked…stunned, like he’d seen a ghost or something. But beneath the surprise was an indiscernible emotion on Mr. Rossmara’s face that John thought looked just a little like fear.

At the stranger’s expectant look, John collected himself and cleared his throat, addressing Mr. Rossmara. “…Sir…?”

Xavier seemed to collect himself as well, though far more subtly. He folded up his newspaper and put the pleasant smile back on his face, determined to make it seem like nothing was wrong. Only someone who looked very closely would see how forced the smile was, or how measured his movements were.

“Yes, of course. Does earl grey meet with your approval?”

The man smiled like the proverbial cat who ate the canary. “It does.”

“Very well. A pot of earl grey then, John.”

The waiter nodded. “Right away, sir.”

Xavier waited until John was well out of earshot before he spoke again. “Hello, Father. I didn’t expect you.”

Zagan let out another of those condescending laughs that set Xavier’s teeth on edge and dragged him right back to all his memories of Hell. “No, I’m quite certain you did not.”

“How did you know I was here?”

“My dear boy, it was hardly a mystery worthy of Sherlock Holmes. For as long as you’ve had your shipping business, you’ve come to San Francisco every Tuesday without fail to check in. And without fail, you finish your work just before teatime. By your own admission, this hotel has the best afternoon tea in the city. All I had to do was remember the name of the hotel and wait for a Tuesday.”

Zagan helped himself to one of the cucumber sandwiches that remained on the tray. “You’ve become predictable in your old age, my boy.”

Xavier had to fight to keep from shifting in his seat. Not any-bloody-more. He’d be changing that particular habit immediately. It didn’t suit him at all for someone outside his household to have such intimate knowledge of his movements, especially if that someone was his father. Such information was dangerous in the hands of a man like Zagan. It didn’t matter if it was only the day and location of a standing reservation for tea and cake, Xavier knew from experience that the less his father knew, the better.

Which was largely why he didn’t take any great pains to see him. Unless, of course, he was forced to.

“I see,” Xavier said, settling for an amused smile since a laugh was impossible. “I suppose I am becoming a bit predictable. Anyhow, it’s nice to see you, Father. Have you been well?”

“Well enough.” Zagan was watching him carefully, studying every nuance in his expression, listening to the tone and inflection of every word. Becoming familiar with anything that had changed since the last time he’d seen his demonic progeny.

Thankfully Xavier didn’t have to endure it for very long. John soon returned with their tea, giving him a reprieve from paternal scrutiny as it was poured. It was the only thing that would for the next little while.

This time it was Zagan who waited until they were alone again before he spoke. “So. Tell me. How is that shipping business of yours doing? And your myriad other ventures?”

The next hour or so was spent in what one could call easy conversation. They spoke of Xavier’s businesses, the sights he’d seen, the things he’d collected, the weather, the state of the world. Perfectly light, perfectly casual. At least from an outsider’s perspective.

From Xavier’s point of view things were far more fraught. Everything he said had to be carefully weighed, and there was a desperately thin line between revealing too much and appearing withholding, between looking at ease and projecting discomfort.

Having a conversation with his father hadn’t always been this difficult. In fact, just a few years ago Xavier would have been—and had been—completely comfortable not only talking to Zagan but spending entire days in his company. He’d even sought him out once or twice. But then, Xavier had had far less to lose a few years ago. He hadn’t had a child, a fiancé, staff that depended on him, friends he cared for.

He had all those things now. He had more than he’d allowed himself to have in fifty years, and the memory of how things had gone then still lived all too vividly in his mind.

Getting back to a point of comfort with Zagan after that hadn’t been easy, but he’d done it. There hadn’t been a choice. It was either swallow his pain, grief, and desire for vengeance and make nice, or tempt his father into carrying out his threats.

Sitting here now, Xavier felt much the same as he had then; trapped, resentful, and desperate to get away.

He had no illusions of being able to do that any time soon, however, even when his father finally asked for the check. After such a long absence, Zagan was sure to take up as much of his time as possible.

His suspicions were confirmed almost immediately.

“Come,” said Zagan, getting to his feet. “Let’s take a walk.”

Xavier remained at the table while his father stepped outside, indulging himself with a long, weary sigh the moment it felt safe to do so. It had only been an hour and he was ready for another five-year interlude in their relationship.

What had brought Zagan up from Hell anyway? Surely this visit hadn’t only been for tea and a walk with him. His father hated humans, hated looking at them and being amongst them. There had to be another reason and no doubt it was something Xavier really didn’t want the know the details of.

“Probably scouting his next project child,” Xavier muttered to himself as he pulled his card from his wallet.

Bill settled, he stepped out into the late summer evening and breathed deeply. There was a chill in the air that said autumn was well and truly on its way. Soon the days would grow shorter and the nights longer. His collection of coats would emerge from storage. Every hearth in the manor would roar to life with cheerful, welcoming fires.

He sighed again, longing for the comfort of home as he looked for Zagan among the crowd of people in front of the hotel. That expression of disdain was easy to spot.

“Where shall we go?” Xavier asked, approaching him.

“I don’t know how you can stand it.” His father’s tone all but dripped disgust. “Being here day in and day out among these…creatures and the stench of their cities. It’s revolting.”

“I’d rather smog than brimstone.”

“I think I prefer brimstone.”

Right. That nipped the notion of walking on the street squarely in the bud. If only that were enough to dissuade his father, but alas.

Fortunately, there was a park nearby.

Zagan didn’t say a single word as they made their way there, clearly preferring to stew in his distaste until they were well clear of anyone who might catch a snippet of their conversation. Of course, he hadn’t been nearly so averse to it back at the hotel.

Xavier would just chalk that up to the difference between a well-appointed dining room and a crowded street.

His father’s demeanor seemed marginally more pleasant as they entered the park. It wouldn’t be empty for a good while yet, but it was an improvement from the street. Hopefully it wouldn’t be enough of one to tempt him to stay much longer.

A few long minutes of not-quite-companionable silence passed before Zagan saw fit to fall into conversation again. The additional privacy meant they could discuss things that were far more relevant to his father’s interests than the weather or the goings on at a shipping company. Namely, any magic Xavier had learned, magical artifacts Xavier had acquired, and any kills Xavier had made.

The latter would perhaps prove to be a bit of a disappointment. Not only did Xavier kill less frequently these days, his choice of quarry had changed. The people that he’d once hunted were those he found interesting or amusing or intriguingly intelligent; only on the very rare occasion did he hunt someone who truly deserved it.

That was no longer the case. Lately when Xavier hunted it was only people who truly deserved it. He went for rapists and abusers. He went for people who hurt children, including and especially priests. There was immense satisfaction in knowing exactly where those people were going and what awaited them when they arrived, and even more in describing it in vivid, excruciating detail as they bled to death among the debris of a forest floor.

Hell was a far greater torment than anything he could visit upon them, and he was more than happy to send them on their way.

Zagan let out a loud, derisive laugh at that. “Are you indeed?” The old demon laughed again, putting Xavier’s back up and setting his teeth on edge. “My dear boy, you have been away from Hell too long. Who would’ve imagined? My son, the divine hand of justice for ne’er-do-well priests the world over. Never mind predictable; you’ve grown positively moral in your old age.”

“I wouldn’t say that,” Xavier said softly, fighting to unclench his jaw.

His father gave him an amused look. “No?”

He shook his head. “No. I’ve merely…unearthed an intolerance I didn’t give sufficient regard to before.”

“Have you? Well.” Zagan chuckled and adjusted his sleeve, looking positively chuffed in a way that both infuriated and unsettled. “You never did like priests. Who would, having had your childhood? I suppose that particular aspect of your personality was bound to rear its head again eventually. Perhaps…it’s entirely appropriate that it should do so now.”

Xavier didn’t register the movement until it was too late. He only had a moment to feel his father grabbing his arm before he was whisked through the familiar vacuum of demonic travel, and even less to register his new surroundings before he was thrown bodily against something cold and unyielding.

“You unearthed an intolerance, did you?” Zagan’s voice, so casual and amused just seconds ago, now quivered with rage.

Xavier went flying again, this time into something that splintered beneath the force of his weight. Wood?

“And when exactly did you do that, Xavier? Was it perhaps around the time that you became a father?”

Again, back into the unyielding cold. Stone. “Father, plea—”

“Not that I can even tell, since I’ve scarcely seen the child—my grandchild—more than twice since the day he was born!”

Xavier cried out as he was flung for a fourth time, several bones breaking upon landing forcefully on a stone floor. There was something soft beneath him, but whatever it was, it hadn’t been enough to cushion his fall.

He braced for another hit, relieved when none came. He could still hear the echo of his father’s furious footsteps, however, which meant the torment wasn’t over. Far from it. The pleasant Zagan of earlier was gone, and who had remained in his place was someone Xavier was very, very familiar with.

Familiar enough to know that he had only a few precious seconds to catch his breath and orient himself.

There wasn’t much he could see from this position apart from the ceiling of whatever edifice they were in but, not wanting to draw attention to himself too soon—or move lest he worsen his breaks—he observed what he could by turning his head.

Said ceiling, high and crisscrossed with thick wooden beams, appeared to be constructed of the same stone as the walls and floor. Dusty chandeliers covered in thick cobwebs were hung every few feet, the candles in them long unlit. The same went for the metal sconces on the walls.

He appeared to be lying in the middle of an aisle bordered on either side by what he could only assume was the wooden something he’d been thrown int—

No. Not just wood. Pews.

Xavier struggled into a sitting position, heedless of his broken bones and desire for inconspicuousness in his rush to confirm his suspicions, to confirm what he already knew.

Panic rose in his chest as he saw the cross silhouetted in stark relief against the waning sunlight streaming in through the stained-glass window.

They were in a church.

Had this been any other time on any other day Zagan wouldn’t have missed the opportunity to mock and use his son’s fear against him. Xavier’s childhood memories of being harrowed and abused by his stepmother and local priest amused him to no end but on this day, he didn’t so much as comment.

He just stalked down the aisle toward Xavier and slammed him back against the floor with a flick of his hand.

“After all,” he said, voice dangerously soft as he crouched beside his son. “I can hardly drop by for a visit now, can I? Not with all those wards you have on the estate that threaten to annihilate anyone who comes in unannounced.” He almost smiled. “You’ve amassed quite the bag of tricks over the last fifty years.”

Xavier could only shake his head. “The wards aren’t—”

“Aren’t what? Aren’t meant to keep me out?” Zagan scoffed, giving Xavier a dubious look as he grabbed a handful of his hair from the back of his head and stood. “Dear boy, do you really expect me to believe that?”

He gave Xavier’s hair a good hard yank, ignoring his son’s cries of pain as he dragged him down the aisle and deposited him on the small set of stairs leading to the altar. “You didn’t ward against me fifty years ago only because you didn’t know how to. If you had, you would’ve done it in a trice to help keep that pathetic little slave of yours out of my grasp, but I’m sure that’s already occurred to you.”

Indignation fought its way in beside pain and panic, and Zagan noticed. His son’s emotions had always been pitifully easy to read, moreso when they ran as profoundly as he knew this did. The servant was still a sore spot even after all this time.

Zagan paused.

“Had you realized?” he asked, crouching again to run a single finger down Xavier’s cheek, those ancient eyes gleaming with cruel amusement. “That this year marks the fiftieth anniversary? Had you realized, my beautiful boy, that half a century had passed since you came so close to defying me?”

Fifty years of pain and rage and grief so rarely expressed churned in Xavier’s gut and pulled at his soul. That his father could speak so cavalierly of Maximus and his loss made him want to scream and be ill in equal measure.

Had he realized? How could he not, when every day for the past year and a half had been a battle against remembering? How could he not, when every day he walked halls and sat in rooms identical to those Maximus had once drawn breath in, only to remember that they had burnt to the ground?

How could he not, when dead leaves and rose petals and ash were still enough to bring him to tears?

The same tears that streamed down his face now. Xavier was powerless to stop them and even if he could have, he likely wouldn’t have. After what he’d done to Maximus, an acknowledgement of his grief was the least Xavier could give him, even if his father was the only one who witnessed it.

“Oh my, look at that.” Zagan stroked his son’s face again, collecting those tears and rubbing the moisture between his fingers. He tsked, shaking his head. “My dear, it’s been an absolute age since then. How can a measly little servant still cause all this upset, hm? There now.”

Zagan slipped one arm under Xavier’s knees and the other behind his back, lifting and carrying him the rest of the way up the steps as if he weighed absolutely nothing. He gathered Xavier close, even took care not to jostle him too much.

Such loving gestures were not uncommon for the old demon. There were times in Hell when he had been the absolute image of gentleness and paternal affection, when he had held him as he did now and given him a reprieve from the torture.

But more torture had always followed. Showing him affection was rarely meant to comfort; it was meant to torment.

“I’m sure you feel like the past few decades have been a trial, but you see, I don’t think that’s entirely accurate.” Zagan set Xavier down as carefully as he’d picked him up, petting his hair as that indignant look returned to his son’s expression. “Don’t misunderstand me. I don’t doubt you’ve suffered a great deal over your servant. I don’t see why you would when they’re so readily available, but I don’t doubt it. I just think you haven’t quite…put things in perspective.”

With of wave of his father’s hand, every sconce, chandelier, and candelabra flickered to life, allowing Xavier his first real look at the derelict church. Not that there was much to see. No one had set foot in here for a very long time, let alone used it as a place of worship.

But when he turned his head, Xavier saw something that made his blood run cold.

Until now he’d felt trepidation, resentment, emotional anguish. Only when he saw the lines of a demon trap scorched into the threadbare carpet beneath him did he finally feel fear.

“Father…?”

“You see, my dear, I don’t think you realize how easy you got off all those years ago.” Zagan shed his coat and rolled up his sleeves.

“Father, please—”

Zagan knelt beside him. “My own son considers rebelling against me, disobeying me, gives a servant pride of place over his father, and what does he have to pay for it? Absolutely nothing.” He unbuttoned Xavier’s suit jacket and shirt, undid his trousers. “My son defies his father and still he gets to keep his estate, his businesses, his treasures. His life. All these things my son gets to keep, he goes virtually without punishment for fifty years, and does he realize that? Does it occur to him how generous his father has been in his infinite mercy? No. Rather than show gratitude, he has the childish audacity to believe he is the aggrieved party!”

Xavier didn’t see Zagan move. There was just an awful squelching sound, then searing pain as his father, having pierced his torso with a bare hand, sliced it upward and gutted him like a fish from groin to sternum.

“Which doesn’t mean I haven’t noticed your efforts,” Zagan said calmly above the echoing din of his son’s screams. Casually. “You’ve been such a good boy, treating your papa to afternoon tea and accompanying him for a walk. But I have been far too lax with you. You see that, don’t you?”

He gripped the jagged edges of Xavier’s wound and forced them apart to another chorus of screams. “All those wards, the prolonged absence.” Zagan shook his head. “There comes a point where it all gets to be a bit too much. What’s that expression? Getting too big for your britches? I think you’ll agree you got too big for yours a very long time ago. What’s more, I think you’ll agree that it’s high time that you paid the piper.”

Zagan got to his feet and made his way over to the wooden table beneath the stained-glass window at the head of the altar. He retrieved a hammer, a covered metal bowl, and a set of railroad spikes and brought them over to the demon trap, kneeling again.

Xavier could only watch him, borderline delirious as his chest heaved and his wounds bled. He didn’t dare lift his head to look at the damage; he’d seen enough of his own insides in Hell.

There was a vague hope that his blood would break the demon trap and allow him to get away, but he knew it was impossible even as he thought it. Zagan had prepared for this.

There was no getting away, especially once the first spike was hammered through one of his feet, piercing shoe leather, flesh, and carpet as it was driven into the stone beneath. Xavier bit back another scream, only to give in as his father pinned his arm above his head and drove the second spike into his hand.

“A necessary precaution,” Zagan explained, moving around to repeat the process on Xavier’s other side, barely reacting to the scent of demonic flesh charred by iron. “To make things easier for both of us. Remember what I always used to tell you?”

The third and fourth spikes were driven into Xavier’s free hand and foot, rendering him not quite immobile, but significantly limiting his range of motion. He was left completely vulnerable to Zagan.

“Well?”

He turned toward his father. The demon was looking at him expectantly, warmly—a complete contrast to that cold smile on his face that never quite reached his eyes.

“The more you struggle,” Xavier began, breathing raggedly, “the more it will hurt.”

“That’s exactly right. Good boy.” Zagan bent to kiss his brow and set the hammer aside. “Now be a love and stay still for your papa while he works.”

“What are you going to do?” Asked in a voice too soft and timid to belong to a demon.

“I thought you might ask. You see, I needed to come up with an appropriate punishment.” Zagan reached into his abdominal cavity and tore out a chunk of his liver, placing it on the carpet beside him while his son howled in agony. The shock and blood loss weren’t enough to kill him, of course, but there would be a great deal of both before Zagan was done.

“It had to fit the crime, else how could the lesson be truly felt?” His stomach joined his liver, spilling its bloody contents as it hit the floor with a sickening plop.

Xavier hadn’t felt pain like this since Hell. He wondered for a moment if he was in Hell. That endless red sky and the ceiling of the church blurred together in his mind while the stone under his back became the rocky banks of that boiling river of blood. He heard a scream—or perhaps a thousand—but no longer registered it as his own.

When his father spoke, he heard it as only an echo.

“I mentioned taking your estate and your belongings but upon reflection, that wouldn’t be a practical solution to the problem. You could always acquire more, and really, what do I want with a bunch of wine and trinkets and land?” The other half of his liver followed, then his spleen and pancreas, all added to the growing pile of viscera.

Zagan turned to Xavier, whose screams had quieted to pained whimpers as he began coughing up torrents of blood. “No matter how you look at it, it would only be an inconvenience to us both. An inconvenience, not a punishment. That was when I realized that there was something I could take from you that would serve as an appropriate punishment.”

The old demon reached into Xavier’s body with both hands this time, ripping through sheet after sheet of connective tissue as he worked to tear out Xavier’s intestines. Messy work but very necessary, although he did find himself wishing he’d brought a blade to speed up the process. But that’s what happened when one was forced to move with haste; things were bound to be forgotten.

To Xavier, that process seemed to take hours. Perhaps it did. He couldn’t help but think it would’ve been kinder to just kill him.

His only comfort was that the shock setting in made his body go almost numb, a small mercy for which he gave profound thanks. It was liable to be the only one he got. He only wished he could go deaf as well, or better yet, fall into blessed unconsciousness so he wouldn’t have to listen to or feel the rending of his flesh.

More hopes he knew would be dashed.

Such was Zagan’s concentration on his task that he fell silent. Humans did have such a lot of parts, but he had gotten most of it. It would do.

He gathered the slippery mass in his hands, considering adding them to the pile before deciding to simply drop them on his son’s lap. They didn’t need to be removed entirely, just moved out of the way.

“Right,” he sighed, looking around at his handiwork while he gathered his thoughts. “Where was I? Ah, yes. Your punishment.”

Zagan scooted a bit closer and tenderly took Xavier’s face in his hands, smiling beatifically as he stroked his son’s cheeks and smeared that handsome face with blood. “I believe you’ve lived in poor dead Christian for quite long enough, my precious one. Don’t you?”

For the second time since this ordeal began, panic took hold of Xavier. Not just a trickle of it, but huge, violent waves that made his adrenaline surge and had him struggling against his restraints despite the burning pain of the iron.

Please, God, let him not have heard correctly. Surely it was the delirium, the blood loss making him think his father had said what Xavier thought he’d just said. Or if had said it, perhaps Xavier just didn’t understand his meaning. It could mean anything, everything. Too much. Was it to be his life, a return to Hell? Was it—

“Settle down, Xavier,” Zagan chided, placing his hands on his son’s shoulders. “What did we say, hm? The more you struggle the more it will hurt, and this is going to hurt quite enough without you thrashing about like a landed fish. Settle.”

“Wh-what is?” Xavier’s voice was a raspy, choked sound, devoid of its usual elegance. For all that he struggled—or tried to, before pain and fatigue forced him to stillness—it was a battle to get out every single word. “Fath…father. What are y-you going…?”

“What am I going to do?”

At his son’s jerky nod, Zagan smiled and stroked his face again. “Just what I said. You’ve been living in Christian Deidrich’s body for far too long and it’s time for a change.”

“But w-what—”

“I’m going to take you out of Christian, Xavier. You will be removed from this vessel and placed into a new one.”

Xavier looked at this father in abject horror for a few silent, eternal moments before panic and adrenaline flooded back in with a vengeance.

He began to struggle to free himself in earnest as his father’s words and their full implications sank in. Whatever he’d suffered so far—gut-wrenching reminders of the past, the sear of iron, the removal of his organs—it would be nothing compared to what he knew awaited him now.

At this very moment, even the full weight of what it meant to lose Christian as his vessel couldn’t hold a candle to Xavier’s fear.

This reaction pleased Zagan immensely, and unlike before, he was perfectly happy to let Xavier wear himself out. In this weakened state it was all he’d manage to do, which would only make things easier once the real work began.

Besides, even if by some chance Xavier did tear the wounds around the spikes and freed himself, he was still inside the trap. He wasn’t going anywhere.

Zagan hummed to himself, giving his son’s cheek one last pat before getting to his feet.

One by one, he brought candelabras over to the altar. Not many remained after so many years of the church having been abandoned, but they were enough to give him the light he needed. The larger ones were placed around the perimeter of the trap and the smallest just inside. A single candlestick was placed beside Xavier.

Had he been able to, Xavier would’ve knocked that stupid candle over and set fire to the rug. Something his father probably would’ve considered if he wasn’t so obviously confident that it wouldn’t happen.

Xavier couldn’t deny that he was right to be. Already he was exhausted to the point of giving up. Physically, at least.

“Father…” he wheezed. “Plea…please…don’t—don’t do this to me…”

“Ahhh, I see we’ve moved from anger to bargaining,” Zagan chuckled, returning to his son’s side. “I understand, of course. A new face will be an adjustment after so many decades spent looking at the same reflection in the mirror, but don’t worry, my dear one. You’ll get used it.”

Xavier shook his head, swallowing back more tears. He didn’t want to get used to it. He wanted to remain in his body. No matter how mangled it was, it was his, and leaving it would mean suffering beyond measure in more ways than one.

“The spell…”

His father nodded patiently. “Yes, yes, I know. You locked yourself in. An excellent notion, truly. After all, one can never know who does and does not know an exorcism rite. No doubt it would have spoiled your fun if in the middle of a hunt, your quarry dispatched you back to Hell.”

Zagan stroked his hair again. “Pity that your good judgement should have to hurt you now.”

Tears began to flow freely again as Xavier tugged at his restraints with all the might he had left. It was precious little. “Fat-ther, please…please d-don’t…please…”

“Hush now. Begging won’t save you, Xavier.” Zagan picked up the bowl that until now had sat untouched beside the revolting mess of entrails. “As I’m sure you’ve gathered from the very fact that you’re able to be here, the church we are currently in is no longer consecrated ground. Faith left this place…” he shrugged, “a century ago, perhaps more. But despite that, there is one thing I’m so terribly curious to know.”

He removed the lid. “I wonder…despite the decades of absent devotion…if this water is still holy enough to hurt you.”

“N-nononono wait, don’t—!”

An awful steaming hiss drowned out his protests as Zagan slowly began pouring the bowl’s contents into Xavier’s abdominal cavity.

“You’re making it worse,” he said, raising his voice to make himself heard over the cacophony of tortured screams and howls of demonic pain.

His admonishment fell on deaf ears. The moment the first drop of holy water had touched his mutilated insides, Xavier had begun thrashing about in a desperate, mindless effort to escape from the torment.

Exhaustion had no hope of stilling his movements, even if those movements caused the water to splash and slosh about and cause even more pain. This was beyond the physical, beyond the human. Short of an exorcism this was the greatest suffering that could be inflicted on a demon, and Xavier had the great misfortune of knowing that was precisely what awaited him next.

He screamed, he sobbed, he begged his father to stop. At some point he even succeeded in tearing free of two of the spikes. But still the ordeal continued and would until the bowl was empty.

It would continue even when the bowl was empty, because for all that Xavier had moved about, a good deal of holy water remained on and inside of him. As long as it did, nothing would stop the screaming.

“Shhhh, darling, shhhh,” Zagan cooed at his son, pulling out the spikes that still restrained Xavier’s limbs so he could turn him on his side and empty out the water. It had completed its intended purpose and was thus no longer required.

He eased Xavier onto his back again and picked up the candlestick. “Right. I would very much like to say that’s the worst of it over, but we both know that’s not the case. Tell me, should I bother asking where you carved it?”

Although agonized groans and broken sobs had replaced blood-curdling screams, Xavier wasn’t in any condition to listen to his father, much less respond.

“I thought not. No matter. I have a fair idea which rite you used, and I believe that particular one calls for the inscription to be placed on the spine.”

At last, the true reason for the evisceration revealed.

Zagan brought the candle close to the gaping void that was Xavier’s torso, using its light to find exactly where the spell had been carved into the bone—a slightly easier task now that the holy water had rinsed out most of the blood.

“Ah, there it is.” Zagan tried to make out the symbols to confirm his suspicions. “What did I tell you?” he chuckled, setting aside the candlestick. “Predictable.”

Xavier had been left even weaker than before. His chest barely rose. His skin, already pale from loss of blood, looked gray and lifeless. There wasn’t a part of him that wasn’t burning in agony. The dread and fear and grief he should have felt eighty-six years ago when the hangman’s noose had been placed around his neck fell upon him now, far more heavily than they would have then.

Still, he had to try just one more time.

With what little strength he had left, Xavier turned to his father. “Please,” he begged, the barely audible whisper ragged and frail. “Father. Please…please don-n’t. You don’t—don’t kn-now…” he gasped for breath, “…what you—you’re take…tak-king…”

There was a beat of silence during which Xavier thought, just for a second, his father looked apologetic.

“But I do,” Zagan murmured, taking Xavier’s bloody, tear-stained face in his hands. He stayed like that for several moments, studying his child’s features one last time. He loved this face. It gave him no pleasure to destroy it. “I know exactly what I’m taking. My beautiful, beautiful boy.”

He bent to place a tender kiss on Xavier’s forehead. “Don’t fret. The pain won’t last. You’ll still be beautiful, I promise. I could never take that from you. You’ll even look like your brother.” He kissed Xavier’s forehead again, his brow, his cheeks, allowing them both the indulgence of true affection for just a moment.

Perhaps it would offer some comfort in the days to come.

Sighing, Zagan took the candlestick again and made another examination of the spell his son had used to lock himself in. It was simple, but perfectly effective against exorcisms and other such attempts to dislodge a demon from their vessel.

The symbols themselves were spread across four vertebrae and, upon closer inspection, appeared to be burned into the bone rather than inscribed. He had no doubt the process had been rather painful; things like this always were.

He reached in and carefully tore the first vertebra from Xavier’s spine, ensuring he removed only bone and nothing else.

Painful, yes, but not as painful as its reversal. Not in his hands.

Zagan recited a small incantation under his breath, brushing his thumb back and forth over the symbols as if merely rubbing away a bit of dust. With every swipe the symbols grew fainter and fainter until they disappeared altogether, leaving behind nothing but clean, unmarred bone.

He held it up to the candlelight and examined it again. Pleased, he tossed it away and pulled out the next one.

Xavier, no longer strong enough to scream, could only groan and sob as his father ripped yet more parts out of his body, overwhelmed by fear and pain.

But there was another sensation as well; an odd, supernatural pull somewhere deep inside his being. It seemed to exist independently of the pain, and had nothing to do with what was happening to him physically.

It did, however, have everything to do with what was happening to him magically. This body, having been technically dead for so many decades, was dying again. In all reality it had already died again, and as his father methodically did away with his lock, Xavier’s hold inside his vessel began to loosen.

By the time the last vertebra was torn from his spine and the symbols on it erased, that hold was all but nonexistent.

“There we are,” said Zagan, sighing again as he smiled to himself. “Now the real work begins.”

Even if he’d been inclined to bother with an exorcism, it was no longer necessary. Given enough time Xavier would be forced to leave Christian’s body on his own, but Zagan wasn’t inclined to wait.

Instead, he reached into his son’s abdominal cavity one last time, thrusting through dead flesh and fractured bone and into the very core of him, physical and metaphysical, feeling around until his hand closed around what he sought.

Making sure to maintain an iron grip on his prize, Zagan ripped Xavier free from what remained of his moorings. When Zagan’s hand emerged, bloody and singed, it held a cloud of oily black smoke that crackled with electricity.

There were no anguished screams to mark this final parting, no sobs or desperate pleas to echo off the stone.

There was only the burnt out, mutilated husk of a body, the scent of sulfur, and a cloud of oily black smoke.

Zagan smiled at the smoke and released it, leaving it free but still stuck inside the demon trap, before pushing the husk out of the way to give himself more room to work.

What came next would require every last ounce of his will and concentration. This was magic he did not inherently possess, and if he could not see his vision clearly, if he could not believe in it wholly, it would not bear fruit.

He closed his eyes, steeling his will as he began to draw every bit of energy in the room outside his own toward him, no matter how small. The remnants of Xavier’s emotion, the electricity of a demon in true form, the lifeforce of the plants surrounding the church—all were taken and absorbed.

Even the candles were drawn in, extinguishing themselves one by one as Zagan pulled their heat and energy close, inserting his will and chanting ancient magic to manipulate the mass of energy to his whim.

And there, in the middle of the demon trap, it slowly began to take form. A single point of light that pulsed and grew as yet more light surrounded and encased it, becoming a womb for an old demon’s creation.

With every pulse, the air shimmered as it regained its charge, making Zagan’s skin prickle and burn to the point of pain. But still he did not buckle, digging even deeper and giving even more of himself as he watched the light become something at once both liquid and solid, something that elongated and molded itself until it resembled a human body.

Almost done.

He looked up at where the cloud of smoke hovered above his head. It would be cleaner to do it in one fell swoop. Faster. Even for a being as old as he was, keeping this level of concentration took its toll. Mere seconds could be the difference between success and miserable failure.

The new vessel was almost complete; the moment it was, he would draw Xavier into it and seal him inside. He had to move quickly, but gingerly, with the precision of a surgeon.

Zagan took a deep breath. Clenching one hand as tightly as he could to hold his creation in place, he used the other to draw his child down and guide him into his new vessel.

A different kind of light began emanating from the body as it was slowly given life. Zagan grit his teeth against the strain as it grew in strength, as he was pushed to the very edge of his limits by the effort of controlling so much raw energy.

No sooner had the last wisp of black smoke disappeared from view than the light burned out with enough force to shatter every window in the crumbling church.

Zagan fell back, utterly exhausted but brimming with triumphant hubris as he gazed upon his creation. His vision, made flesh.

It was perfect.

Zagan spent a few moments catching his breath and recuperating some of his strength, after which he got to his feet to gather himself. He adjusted his sleeves and went to retrieve his coat, brushing off bits of colored glass before slipping it back on. He placed the bowl and the candlestick back on their table, took a piece of glass and sliced through the carpet, breaking the demon trap.

And when he finally approached the unconscious, supine body that now belonged to Xavier, and watched as he drew his first breath, Zagan bent to place a kiss on his forehead.

“Perhaps now you’ll learn,” he whispered. “My beautiful boy.”

A rustle of wings, and Xavier was left alone in the darkness.

[delicioussshame]

Too long for tumblr, too bad to be posted by itself on AO3, have this ABO future AU where LBH and SY never got together.

There is always something bittersweet about Shizun visiting.

Luo Binghe loves having him here. He loves that Shizun obviously feels comfortable enough around him that he doesn’t mind being in the demon realm, away from allies and friends.

He hates knowing that no matter how pleasant their time together was, Shen Qingqiu will eventually leave to return to his bamboo house.

He tries to put that last thought out of his mind and just enjoy his shizun’s company.

It’s just that there is something else going on today. Something that is incommoding Shizun. He keeps twitching as if he can’t sit still. His skin has a pinker shade than usual. His gaze sometimes lingers on Luo Binghe in a way that is very hard to ignore.

Luo Binghe does all he can to do so anyway. Why raise his hopes up at this point?

When his usually graceful shizun manages to send a cup rolling, spilling tea over the table, Luo Binghe cannot blind himself anymore. “Shizun isn’t feeling well today. Is there anything this disciple can do to help?” He can’t help the eager tilt in his voice. He wants to help Shen Qingqiu so badly. He still wants Shen Qingqiu to smile at him kindly and pet his head gently, praising him for being good, the way he used to do when Luo Binghe was still a child.

Shen Qingqiu stumbles. He flushes, embarrassed. “This isn’t something Binghe should bother himself with. It will pass. It’s just unexpected. I should have remained home today.”

That’s strange? What condition could he be talking about? “What is Shizun suffering from?”

Shen Qingqiu sighs. “Well, Binghe is more than old enough to know. He probably figured it out already, didn’t he? He must have experience dealing with this with others.”

Luo Binghe stays silent. He has no idea what his shizun is talking about, but he’s not going to tell him that. He doesn’t want to appear stupid in front of Shen Qingqiu.

“Your master is an omega. I am currently feeling the first symptoms of an unprompted heat. I was already here when I first felt it, so I thought it would be rude of me to leave without seeing you, but it’s been more distracting than I would have expected.”

Luo Binghe tries not to white out at this unexpected knowledge. “Shizun doesn’t smell like it.”

Shen Qingqiu waves it away. “I’ve always hidden my natural scent. Easier to live without attracting attention that way.”

“I see.”

Shen Qingqiu rises. “Since Binghe understands, I will take my leave.”

“Where is Shizun going!? He should be careful! His condition makes him vulnerable!” If someone were to cross paths with his shizun so impaired and decided to take advantage… He couldn’t stand it.

“Back to my peak. As I said, this is unexpected, so I have no other arrangements. It will just pass. I’ll be fine.”

“Qing Jing Peak is much too far! Shizun should remain here. I can make sure he’ll be comfortable and undisturbed, if that’s what he prefers.” It will be a trial like no other, having Shen Qingqiu so close, knowing his body is begging for an alpha’s touch, but it will be better than having him on the road, pretending to be unaffected and failing miserably.

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “I couldn’t inconvenience Binghe so.”

“It would be no bother! The palace has personnel used to providing adequate care for omega guests.”

“Binghe, it’s not a good idea.”

“Why not? Shizun would be safe and taken care of.” Luo Binghe isn’t letting him go, and that’s final.

He can’t make himself do so.

“Binghe, are you really going to make me say this?”

Now, Luo Binghe is confused. His master had just admitted he was going into heat? What could he find more embarrassing than this? “Shizun can tell me anything. I wouldn’t tell a soul.” He would also make sure anyone witness to his shizun’s secrets wouldn’t be able to betray them.

Shen Qingqiu rubs his temples. “You’re not the child I raised anymore. You must have more self-awareness than this.”

Self-awareness? “I don’t know what Shizun is talking about.”

Luo Binghe recognises that the gruffness in Shen Qingqiu’s voice is a mask to hide deep embarrassment. “I can’t be around an alpha of Binghe’s calibre when I’m like this. I’ll shame myself.”

It takes all of his energy to keep himself in control. Too much enthusiasm and he’ll scare Shizun away. “Is Shizun implying he thinks he would proposition me?”

Shen Qingqiu’s lack of composure gives him away. “Binghe!”

Keep yourself in check. Don’t scare him. Don’t act like this is a favorite fantasy of yours you’ve been entertaining since you were thirteen and found out you were an alpha. “If Shizun prefers not to be alone, I would be honored to be his companion.”

Luo Binghe knows that Shen Qingqiu isn’t quite in his right mind. That the way he’s responding to his overture doesn’t mean anything in the long term.

But here, in this moment, Shen Qingqiu cannot deny he wants Luo Binghe. It’s written all over him, from the heat on his face to the tightening of his fingers on his robes.

Luo Binghe charges on. “If Shizun would allow me to, I would love nothing more than making sure that everything goes perfectly for him, in all aspects.” Luo Binghe reaches for his shizun, holding his delicate, warm, trembling hand in his. “I will take him to his room, where he can safely wait for the right time to come. Meanwhile, I will discreetly arrange for all he might need, and only when this is done will I join him.” His fingers tighten their hold on him. “As an alpha, I promise I will fulfill all his needs and desires.”

Luo Binghe cannot tell if his teacher’s scent is fluctuating under the influence of his words, but he’s almost certain Shen Qingqiu can smell his own attraction. He will know Luo Binghe is honest.

“Binghe… I cannot compare to the ladies you usually spend time with.”

Luo Binghe has no idea what ladies he’s referring to. “Shizun has nothing to be ashamed of.” Luo Binghe could easily sing Shen Qingqiu’s praises for hours, but he knows he would scare him away.

“Are you certain? Binghe shouldn’t feel obligated. I can wait it out.”

Shizun, in what world would bedding you be an obligation? No one on this earth would think so. “I’m certain.”

“Then, I will be in your care.” There is a hint of hesitation still in his voice.

Luo Binghe will make sure none remains by the end. “I won’t disappoint.”

____________

Luo Binghe visits Lin Lian himself.

She isn’t startled by his sudden, unannounced appearance. She is known for taking everything in stride, which is one of the reasons why she is so good at her job. “Junshang.”

“Shizun is going into heat. Everything needs to be perfect.”

She doesn’t even flinch, never mind asking why beta Shen Qingqiu was going into heat.

Then again, Luo Binghe now suspects he probably employs a few hidden omegas himself.

“Alone?”

“No. I’ll mind him.” Luo Binghe might have banned any mention of Resentment of Chunshan from his palace, but he doesn’t expect his servants not to be aware of it. She won’t need more than this.

While Lin Lian is officially just another senior servant, she is the one in charge of omega affairs. Be it making sure schedules allow for planned heats, providing supplies for inconvenienced guests, or keeping alphas at bay where they’re unwanted, Lin Lian was the one handling it all. She, more than anyone in the palace, would know what to do.

She nods. “A sudden heat?”

Luo Binghe acquiesces.

“It won’t last long then. They show up fast and pass just as quickly. When did he start feeling it?”

“A few hours ago.”

“He’s almost there, then. No time for ample preparation. I suppose you won’t let my people in the room?”

Luo Binghe answers that question with a growl that menaces to turn into a roar at any second. No one will be allowed near Shizun in this state. Not even another omega.

“If it lasts only a few hours, you won’t have to do much. If it’s longer, please make sure he eats and drinks a bit. His heat will be hard on him. Even a cultivator should feed to replenish themselves. We keep food that is both easily eaten and kept for this kind of occasion.”

Luo Binghe hates that he won’t be able to cook for Shizun himself. The feast he’d planned isn’t appropriate for the current situation.

Later, then.

“You might also wish to bathe him, and change the sheets as he soaks. Omegas expect alphas to tend to their physical needs. Anything more can come at a pleasant surprise.”

Luo Binghe bets Shen Qingqiu won’t be surprised. He had taken care of such tasks for his shizun for years, when they were still sharing a roof.

Unless his “other arrangements” weren’t as attentive. Luo Binghe hadn’t missed that sentence. Who did Shen Qingqiu turn to in his time of need, if not Luo Binghe himself? Liu Qingge? Yue Qingyuan? Someone else, unknown to Luo Binghe?

Whoever they were, they won’t have him now.

If he treats Shen Qingqiu as lovingly as he should be treated, maybe he’ll never turn to them again. While it isn’t what he wanted, calling Shen Qingqiu his omega every time his nature overwhelms him is much better than what he has now.

He gathers everything Lin Lian prepares for him, carrying food and sheets carefully via hidden passageways. The less people knew of the situation, the better. If Shen Qingqiu’s long-kept secret was exposed because of Luo Binghe’s carelessness, Shizun might not forgive him.

As soon as he opens the door to his shizun’s room, he is hit by what he assumes must be his teacher’s natural scent, so strong Luo Binghe finds himself following its call mindlessly until he reaches Shen Qingqiu, lying on his bed only in thin white inner robes glued to his skin.

Luo Binghe unceremoniously dumps everything on a nearby table, too distracted by the spectacle of his shizun flushed and panting to care about anything else. “Shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu lifts foggy eyes toward him. “Binghe…”

Shizun is calling for him. What could he do but answer? Luo Binghe climbs on the bed, throwing off jewelry and pieces of clothing as he approaches.

He freezes just as he’s about to touch. Will he really do this? Can he really, finally press his lips to Shen Qingqiu, discover the taste of his skin and the sound of his moans? Worse, will he become intimately familiar with his scent as it crescendos? Shen Qingqiu said the heat was unplanned; is there a chance their union will bear fruits?

He has to ask. “Shizun, is this really all right? Will you permit your Binghe to cherish you as you should always be cherished?”

Even through the fog of heat, Luo Binghe can tell the blush is born out of embarrassment, not desire. “Binghe! Don’t talk! Just… do what you have to do.”

It’s as much permission as his beloved will ever give. “As Shizun wishes, then.”

At least Shen Qingqiu is too out of it to notice Luo Binghe’s own nerves as he finally kisses him for the first time.

But not the last.

____________

Luo Binghe wants this to never end.

Shen Qingqiu is nestled on his chest, still exhausted from their activities. He smells different now that the heavy pull of his heat has lifted. Bamboo and orchids on a rainy day, perhaps.

Luo Binghe had been a bit reluctant to bathe him, once the heat had broken and Shen Qingqiu was close to sleep, but he was familiar enough with his shizun’s temperament to know that he would much prefer to wake up clean than still covered in sweat and semen. And what Shen Qingqiu wanted, Shen Qingqiu got.

He doesn’t quite regret it. Fresh sheets and clean skin meant that Shen Qingqiu had no incentive to wake up, instead curling up against Luo Binghe to keep awareness at bay.

It is paradise on earth, holding Shen Qingqiu such. Petting his soft hair as he wishes. Feeling his slow, steady breath on his chest. Hearing the contented beat of his heart.

Of course, all good things must come to an end. Shen Qingqiu starts to move, obviously fighting off sleep.

Finally, he blinks cloudy eyes at Luo Binghe. “Binghe…?”

Luo Binghe refuses to flinch. Instead, he tightens the arm thrown oh so carelessly across his shizun’s side. “Shizun. Did you sleep well?” Because if he didn’t, Luo Binghe will happily hold him to sleep again.

Instead of flustering, as Luo Binghe expected, Shen Qingqiu snuggles a bit closer. “Yes, but I’m not ready to rise yet.”

Ah. As far as Luo Binghe knows, it is not unheard of for omegas just over their heat to still feel bonded to their alpha, demanding closeness and comfort when they would usually demure. “We can remain here as long as Shizun wants.” His heat was too short for him to need food right now. He’ll be hungry, but that can wait.

(This has nothing to do with Luo Binghe’s desire to feed Shen Qingqiu proper food instead of aging snacks made without love or care.)

Shen Qingqiu lets out a sigh that is almost a giggle. “Binghe doesn’t have better things to do?”

Nothing could be more important than this. “They can wait.”

Shen Qingqiu… tuts? “Aren’t you the ruler of this realm? Do you push your responsibilities aside anytime you help an omega in need?”

“Why does Shizun think I do this regularly? I would only favor someone worthy so.”

At this, Shen Qingqiu does fluster. “Surely I am not ‘someone worthy’?”

Luo Binghe scuffs. “Who could be worthier than my shizun?”

Shen Qingqiu does laugh then, a light, airy thing that rings into Luo Binghe’s ears. “What a diligent disciple Binghe is, willing to take care of his shizun even in this.”

There are no circumstances where Luo Binghe wouldn’t be willing to take care of Shen Qingqiu.

But if he tells him this, he will run. Luo Binghe knows. He remembers too many of his attempts failing as Shen Qingqiu remembered something urgent he had to do, or a person he had to meet, whenever his disciple tried to express his less-than-platonic interest.

It has finally been long enough that Shen Qingqiu has managed to make himself forget. Luo Binghe cannot risk his teacher avoiding him again by being too forward.

He can, however, offer exactly this. “This disciple is indeed diligent enough that he would gladly care for his shizun again, when his proper heat arrives.”

Shen Qingqiu looks up at him from where he’s still resting against his heart. “Really? This master is grateful for his disciple’s help, but he doesn’t have to force himself by sleeping with an old man.”

This is painful. “Shizun can believe me when I say nothing about last night was me forcing himself. Or are his memories so hazy that he does not remember my enjoyment?” Because Luo Binghe would certainly not mind reminding him of it with actions instead of words.

He gets a light slap on his side. “An alpha enjoys any omega in heat. I know it’s not personal.”

Luo Binghe has to bite his lips not to cry in dismay. If anything, any alpha would enjoy Shizun no matter what the circumstance were. “It was personal for me.”

He sees it instantly. A tightening of Shen Qingqiu’s expression; his body sliding off Luo Binghe’s as Shen Qingqiu apparently decides he has had enough of lazing around. “Binghe is being ridiculous. This master is nothing special.”

He can’t let this stand. “I apologise if I offended Shizun, but he has to know I care for him deeply. He cannot consider himself as just another stranger I take to bed. His well-being is important to me.”

As he expected, his emphasis on Shen Qingqiu’s well-being, an expression of platonic concern instead of romantic interest, soothes some of Shen Qingqiu’s nerves. “Binghe is really too good a pupil. I don’t deserve him.”

Luo Binghe suddenly wonders if those words might be more than a rote phrase. “Shizun deserves the world. I’m nothing compared to it.”

Another light slap. “Really, ridiculous.” He finally lifts off the bed, looking for his robes, almost unmindful of his easy, effortlessly seductive nudity. “I’m hungry. Does Binghe know if it’s time for dinner?” He finds the abandoned snacks. “He brought food! Binghe really did a good job.”

“Shizun, no! I will go make Shizun a proper dinner. He shouldn’t spoil his appetite with these. Who knows who made them. They might be bad for him!”

Shen Qingqiu puts the bun down. “Binghe didn’t make these? I’ll wait then.”

Luo Binghe trained his teacher so well. “Does Shizun have preferences? I’ll cook whatever he wishes.”

Shen Qingqiu shakes his head. “Anything Binghe makes is delicious.”

If Shen Qingqiu decided to stay, Luo Binghe would prepare his every meal and relish doing so, as he used to do so long ago.  

Alas, Shen Qingqiu won’t. Instead, he will return to Qing Jing Peak and teach Luo Binghe’s shidi.

Luo Binghe can’t even blame him. Others deserve to have the same chance he got.

In the meantime, Luo Binghe will make his stay as sweet as possible.

Maybe if he does well, Shen Qingqiu will tell him when his regular heat is expected.

If he does really well, he will return here for it.

It’s a start.

[quazartranslates]

Welcome to the Nightmare Game II - CH57

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

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

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Chapter 57: Purgatory Reunion (IX) {cw: torture}

At this moment, Qi Leren’s shock was completely written on his face, and this surprise and shock sent the wrong message—Ning Zhou's hand trembled and suddenly let go.

"Wait!" Qi Leren realized that he had made a mistake and quickly took Ning Zhou's hand. "I was just a little surprised. I didn't mean it. I'm, I'm very happy."

This joy was sincere. Although Qi Leren thought this progress was too fast, unexpectedly, he didn't want to refuse, but thought that this was also quite good. They had experienced too many separations and tortures, so these people who loved each other should be together. Besides, he had already received Ning Zhou's ring—one on his tombstone at Undead Island and one on his left hand when he’d woken up in the tree tomb. He had also wished to give this heart to Ning Zhou in return—in the letter he’d written to Ning Zhou that was not received.

"Really?" Ning Zhou asked.

Qi Leren nodded hard: "Really!"

Ning Zhou smiled; the gloom in his heart immediately dissipated, and the uncontrollable thought of wanting to destroy everything quietly sank to the bottom again.

Qi Leren was still looking at him, and his brown eyes were a little uneasy, but there wasn’t even the slightest reluctance, which convinced Ning Zhou that he really was willing.

The person he loved had returned to him with the same strong and meaningful emotions. Even if God didn't bless them, they were still inseparable.

This thought had given him peace of mind, and his world was no longer withering and dead at last. The warm sunshine illuminated this barren land and made him reborn.

So he took his hand again and walked forward firmly.

　　&&&

The underground casino mentioned by the contact Celia was located in a remote part of the lower Underground Ant City. The rail cars weren’t directly connected to the lower part of the city, so Qi Leren and Ning Zhou had to get off the bus outside it and enter on foot.

The chaos of the Underground Ant City became more and more prominent in the lower city. Within the boundary of the upper city, there was at least a basic order, and there were few violent conflicts in the streets. However, when the two entered the lower city, the world they could see was almost a hell: dirty old streets, ragged pedestrians, and eyes that were numb or malicious... In the shadows of the street corners, Qi Leren even saw several bodies, which seemed to be an inescapable element of this place.

There was the scent of blood in the air, and Qi Leren's five senses had been enhanced after breaking the shell. The consequence of a keen sense of smell was that he could smell these unpleasant smells more easily than before.

Following the clue given by Celia, the two people who were dressed in disguises came all the way to the underground casino. The skinny doorman standing by the entrance secretly glanced at the two strange guests wearing masks. The tall one stood straight and was out of place in the lower city. The shorter one was dressed in an exaggerated sexy leather coat, and glanced at him and gave him a tip of copper coins.

The doorman hurriedly pushed open the door, and with its opening, the bloody and absurd world behind the door appeared.

It was like a greedy beast driven by desire, constantly devouring life.

Both human beings and demons became confused once they entered this trap, would lose their senses, bet everything on their person, and be ruined.

The world behind the door was a crimson hell, and the strong scent of blood made the people who had just set foot inside hold their breath. The floor of this dark underground casino was soaked with a layer of blood! Stepping a foot down, the sticky blood splashed on his shoes, and even slowly seeped in, and the sticky and disgusting feeling made Qi Leren's hair stand upright.

Crazy cries echoed in this dark underground world. Both humans and demons stared at the chips on the table excitedly, and went crazy whether they won or lost.

There was also a gambler who was being punished in the corner of the casino. He was stripped naked and hung upside down from the ceiling. Several lower demons laughed and urged him to bet: "There’s a 'leg' missing, will the next one be the left leg or the right leg!"

The gambler who had fainted from the severe pain of castration had a bowl of pain-killing medicine poured down his throat, and he choked up with tears, whining and groaning.

A little hellhound knelt in the pool of blood, licking its lips and excitedly watching the blood bubbling up between the legs of a castrated gambler. Fresh blood was as delicious as wine for demons.

"I bet my left leg! Left leg! Betting high! This one must win!" The gambler who had been called back by the pungent demon blood widened his bloodshot eyes and shouted at the top of his lungs.

The dice on the gambling table were lifted, and the gambler's fanatical expression instantly solidified on his face.

The demons smiled grimly, and cut off one of his legs. The gambler screamed hysterically, but he only got a casual glance from the other gamblers. They laughed and laughed at the unlucky goner who had lost everything, and didn’t feel that every time they bet, they were moving closer to him.

Ning Zhou frowned, and all the absurdity and depravity here made his skin crawl. This wasn’t the first time he had come to the demons’ territory, nor the worst place he had ever seen, but...

Ning Zhou looked at Qi Leren beside him. His face was hidden behind half a mask, showing his tight mouth. From his body language, his mood at the moment was just as heavy and tense.

However, when a scantily clad female dealer came up to them, Qi Leren’s manner changed immediately.

In a moment, Qi Leren half turned, and committedly took his arm. He looked up and whispered in his ear: "You keep quiet, let me ask about things."

Ning Zhou's ears turned red, and he couldn't help but feel glad that the lights here were dim enough. However, Qi Leren, who had already broken his shell, could completely see his red ears and shouted “cute!” in his heart.

The dealer stood in front of the two men. She should have stood closer, but these two gays may not welcome her approach, so she politely asked, "Is this your first time here?"

"Why, are we not welcome?" Qi Leren's voice changed. Although it was still a male voice, it was more delicate and feminine than ordinary men. The deliberately drawn out tone was full of ambiguous dissatisfaction.

"How can that be?" the dealer quickly apologized. "What do the two of you want to play?"

Qi Leren pointed to the table with the most people: "Let's play whatever’s there."

The dealer led the two men to go forward with light steps, her slender high heels sticking on the foul blood.

The gambler who was being punished in the corner had already lost his legs. He was put down, whining and crawling in the pool of blood. The little hellhound opened its mouth and bit his wound. The lower demons laughed and talked over their glasses while urging it on.

"Whether I bet big or small, you double your chips and bet against me," Qi Leren whispered to Ning Zhou.

Behind his mask, Ning Zhou looked puzzled.

"Believe me, getting rich depends on this trick." Qi Leren showed a weak smile.

“……”

The dealer handed them exchange chips and enthusiastically helped two people place their bets. In her eyes, the two men were really strange. Not because they were wearing masks, but because...

"Low." This person wearing a half-mask casually gathered a few chips and carelessly threw them into the low area.

The dealer silently turned her attention to the other person, and sure enough, the man put double chips in another area.

The other gamblers at the table made random bets, and no one noticed this slightly weird scene.

The dice rolled, and the result was self-evident.

The chips in front of the man wearing a half-mask decreased at a speed visible to the naked eye, but the chips in front of his companion were increasing. After several rounds, he finally felt bored. He pointed to the chips in front of the two of them and motioned for the dealer to put them away. He held the man's arm and whispered with him, and he also giggled.

As if he was aware of the dealer's sight, he turned his face slightly, and his eyes hidden behind the mask swept over her coldly, but there was a charming smile on his mouth: "I don't like you looking at my man with eyes like that. Next time you look at him like this, I’ll dig them out."

"I'm sorry." The dealer immediately lowered her head, intently looking at her blood-stained feet, and never looked at the two men.

"Good girl. This is a reward for learning politeness." The man stuffed a chip into her bra and laughed maliciously. "When I look closer, your makeup is really thick. I’ll remind you that your facial features are really not suited for this kind of heavy makeup."

With that said, he returned to the man's side and he muttered a few words.

The dealer kept her head down and let herself be silenced under the strong aura of these two men. 

"By the way, I want to ask you about someone." The man wearing a half-mask lazily uttered a name.

The witness had been a frequent visitor to this underground casino, and he is also the last person to see the illusionist. He had claimed to have met the Illusionist who wore women’s clothing in this underground casino. After that, both the Illusionist and this person disappeared, and even the informants who came to verify had disappeared.

It was risky to ask directly. Qi Leren didn't expect to get the answer he wanted from an ordinary dealer. He just wanted to test how deep the water here was.

"I’ve heard the name... but I haven’t served him before. Let me ask for you?" the dealer asked carefully.

"Sure."

So the two men sat down in front of a coffee table in a quiet corner of the underground casino, and there was no overwhelming scent here. Qi Leren just squeezed into the same sofa with Ning Zhou—he had a very honest reason: it was so that they could quietly communicate at any time.

The female dealer who had just left came back with a tall male dealer. He looked like a higher-up and his face was reserved and arrogant: "Hello, I heard you’re looking for someone?"

"Trying to find a friend," Qi Leren said lightly.

"He hasn't come for several days. Maybe he walked into the pub and couldn’t climb back out." The dealer seems to be familiar with the missing witness, but his tone was full of the coldness and indifference particular to this place.

"Which pub?" Qi Leren asked carelessly.

The male dealer's expression changed slightly. He asked with slight suspicion: "Aren't you his friend?"

A mistake, he had said the wrong thing. Cold sweat flowed down Qi Leren, and Ning Zhou held his hand tightly.

Qi Leren's nervous brain was running at a rapid speed, and he switched from a state of casual handling to a state of first-level alert. He had to round up his words and at least explain why he was a "friend" of that person, knowing the underground casino he loved but not the pub he loved.

"Friend?" Qi Leren's smile was even more fake. The deep ridicule and disgust beneath it were completely written in his smile. "Can you call someone who doesn’t pay back his debt a friend?"

The male dealer suddenly realized that he was a debt collector.

This wasn’t surprising. In this place full of gamblers, the debts of this group of people added up to an extremely horrible number, which was enough for them to sell everything they owned, whether it was their wives, their children, or their own bodies.

"I heard that he often comes here. It's a pity. If he used the time he spent gambling here to sell his ass instead, he wouldn't owe so much." Qi Leren dragged out an ambiguous sound and looked at the gambler amidst the crowd in the distance. His smile grew colder. "Or does the fool prefer to lose his hands and feet here, but doesn't want to work hard to pay his debts?"

The two dealers also looked at the man. He had already lost his legs and arms, leaving only a bare head hanging from his neck as he slowly died in a pool of blood. The demons around him were cutting his tongue and belly, and choosing the best parts from the blood-covered table.

The light steps of a woman came from behind them.

Qi Leren didn't look back, but Ning Zhou did, looking at the shameless woman.

The two dealers stood up from their chairs together and said respectfully, "Manager."

The female manager took a few steps forward again, gave Qi Leren an appraising look, and saw his slightly exposed leather coat from his half-mask, and then saw his boots covered with silver ornaments.

"Mr. Red?" Her face pulled into a grandiose smile, "is it really you? I haven't heard from you for a long time."

Qi Leren was startled. Red? How could this fake identity he had fabricated while undercover with the Slaughter Secret Society have acquaintances in Underground Ant City? He had never seen this woman at all.

"The Mrs is waiting for you, please be sure to join us."

-----

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[keeroo92]

Breaking Point

My SFW contribution to @jackpot-dantezine, where Dante falls apart on the way to confront Urizen.

Word count: 1,909

-------

The air hung stagnant around him, oppressive and unnaturally warm. Shades of red and brown, grey and a sickening green encroached up the walls. When he called the smell, “hot garbage”, he’d been far too kind. Veins pulsated a stern drumbeat as Dante stepped forward after his two female companions. 

“Bet you both I bag the first Queen!” Lady taunted. Trish responded with a cool smirk and a quickened pace, but Dante’s mind was elsewhere.

What if it was Vergil?

Dante had his doubts, despite what the weirdo client told him. What were the chances, right? Vergil’d been gone for years, stuck in hell after their last meeting. Getting back here, let alone in good enough shape to pull off this bullshit, was a longshot.

Still. His brother had a way of popping up and causing trouble. 

The first boom of battle ricocheted off the nauseating walls, reminding him where he was and what he still needed to do. He’d better catch up. Thinking about shit wasn’t his style; killing demons was. 

Time for a good ol’ fashioned beat down, that’d get him out of this funk. 

Dante cracked his neck, hands twitching to grasp the twin handles of his beloved Ebony and Ivory. The staccato thud of his boots mirrored the thudding of his heart, hastening as he got closer to a fight.

He turned a bloody corner just in time to see Trish deal a death blow to a Hell Judecca, its skeletal arms dissolving into ash as she spun to find her next prey. Her signature yellow sparks glowed brightly from her hands, her body dashing across the blood-stained ground to strike a pair of Antenora. Show off.

“That puts me ahead by two, Lady! What, are you taking a nap?” the blonde called.

“Not even close!” Lady replied, firing her bazooka straight down the throat of a Caina.

Dante grinned and picked a target, spinning on his heel as a scythe hunted his flesh. Too easy. He twirled Ebony and shot the ugly bastard in the face behind his back. Why did all demons look like the ass end of a bad burrito, anyway?

Eh, who cared?

His heart lurched. Vergil would. When they were children, Dante’s brother never ran out of questions about the nature of demons. He’d asked everything imaginable, from how they fought to how they multiplied. 

Dante tried not to think about that part.

And for every question Vergil asked, their dad had an answer. He’d stop whatever he was doing to explain, smiling proudly all the while. Like Dante wasn’t even there. It used to annoy him, but now the memory only brought bittersweet longing. What he wouldn’t give for them all to be together again…

“Dante, duck!”

Leather snapped as Dante instantly dropped to a crouch. A stream of fire licked his flesh, a Hell Bat above screeching its displeasure at the near miss. Annoying bastard. He never should've let it get so close. 

I gotta keep it together, he thought cynically, or the girls will get on my case.

Plus, banter always helped keep his mind from visiting its darker corners.

The man in red summoned a smirk and fired a few rounds, his bullets poking holes in the bulging orange belly overhead. A sound not unlike a whoopee cushion signaled his success. Nice.

“Sayonara, sucker!” he crowed, watching as the bat’s leaking body propelled it into a wall to explode. “Let’s call that one twenty points.”

“No way, lazybones! You don’t get extra for making fart noises,” Lady called with a scowl. 

Dante raised his hands in a placating gesture as soot settled to mark the deaths of their foes. He hoped Ver- Urizen sent a few more their way; he needed to warm up before kicking the king’s ass. Maybe he should stretch, just to keep his blood flowing.

Dante sighed and shook his head. He’d never hear the end of it.

It turned out he didn’t need to worry; as the trio progressed, they encountered wave after wave of demons, all vying for fresh blood. Trish and Lady didn’t falter, picking off one after another as Dante did his best to stay on task, but his mind kept drifting back to his brother.

For decades, Dante held only anger at his twin for not being there, for forcing their mother to search for him. To a child, the immature logic made sense. If Vergil hadn’t run off, things would’ve turned out differently. Simple cause and effect.

But time dulled the blade of his rage, and a broader understanding of life took hold. Any number of choices may have changed the outcome of the attack, but obsessing over it wouldn’t change what happened.

None of them had the power to predict the consequences, or to change them. All he could do was keep fighting, and hope that by doing so he spared other families from sharing the fate of his own. 

If Dante was being honest, the constant battles tired him. His body didn’t move like it used to, and the first aches of middle age warned him it was time to slow down. He couldn’t chase demons forever, and part of him didn’t want to. It was a lot of work.

It might be time to leave it to someone younger.

Then again, what the fuck else was he going to do all day? The only thing worse than being tired was being bored.

And the thought of retiring while Vergil was still out there somewhere, doing who knew what… it didn’t feel right, as if the balance would shift to the demons and they’d go unchecked. As a descendant of Sparda that gave a shit about humanity, Dante felt a certain responsibility to bear the weight of defending them. It was what his dad would’ve wanted.

What his mother would’ve wanted.

Besides; if he didn’t, then who would? Nero sure as hell wasn’t ready, not yet. 

But above all else, if it came to a fight to the death, his brother deserved to go at the hands of his family. Someone who understood what he’d gone through and all that he’d lost. It was Dante’s responsibility, and he damn well wasn’t hiding from it. Not this time. 

The thought left a hollow ache in his chest, a bitter sorrow he desperately wished he could ignore. If there was any alternative, any chance of helping his brother instead of ending his life, Dante knew he’d take it. That he had to even consider killing Vergil showed how twisted life could be. It made him want to scream. 

“Aw, shit,” Trish said, breaking his rambling thoughts. A quartet of Nobody’s waited in the next clearing, scurrying back and forth like excited cats. Perfect timing - Dante hated these guys.

And he really needed to kill something.

He flew at the demons with a cry of fury, drawing all four to him as he pulled Rebellion out. The girls followed in his wake, but he saw nothing save the nearest mask as his blade struck home. It left a deep crack in the clay, but the prick backed off before he had the time to kill it.

He really hated these guys. 

“Lady, finish him!” he cried. The other three were already swarming him. Damnit.

He dodged a stray arm and slashed at another as a blast reached his ears. The grotesque floor shook from the force and Dante roared, unleashing a vicious series of slices at the stumbling Nobody closest to him. It whimpered and tried to back off, but he refused to let it go that easily. Rebellion’s heavy blade sank deep into the creature’s core, splattering hot blood on its fellows and its killer alike. Two down. 

Two to go. 

There were days he didn’t see the point of it anymore; no matter how many would-be demon kings he took down, there’d always be another, and the peons were even worse. Useless, feral things, their only desire to destroy and kill.

It only added fuel to the fire of his rage. He needed to get closer.

Dante sheathed Rebellion and pulled at the thread of dark energy connecting him to Balrog, summoning the metallic pseudo-armor even as he threw a powerful punch. A rapid kick followed, his feet cracking against the reddish mask of the third nobody. He’d kill it before it fought back.

But a fiery blast on his left hurled him to the side, the last demon cackling as he fell. Years of getting pummeled proved their worth as Dante rolled with the blow, using the momentum to get on his feet a beat later. He grimaced and flipped a finger at the laughing jerk. 

“Is that all you got?” he shouted. Who knew if it understood.

It screeched and slammed a limb at him, slashing at his chest. He stepped aside and brought his arms together, crushing the appendage and tugging the beast closer for a solid headbutt. He punched and kicked, again and again. Demon blood splattered his face, each drop like a balm to his wrath. The chaotic battle surrounding him faded away; it was just him and the demon and the sounds of his strikes pulverizing its desecrated body. 

“Dante?” Lady called, her voice barely piercing the fog of his anger. He ignored her and punched the Nobody in the face again. “Dante, it’s dead. You can stop hitting it now.”

How many people had this one killed? How many families did its hunger shatter? For all Dante knew, it might be the bastard that killed his mother. He punched it again.

“Dante, come on…” Trish said. 

Maybe this was the demon that left nothing but smears of blood on the playground outside. Or the one that tore through a local grocery store, or that small house where he found those god awful husks. Another punch. He didn’t notice his female companions coming to stand beside him.

“Dante, knock it off. We need to keep moving,” Lady said, her palm coming to rest on his shoulder as he pulled back for another punch. Trish mirrored her.

The edges of the creature’s face began dissolving, a fine grey powder all that remained. Dante’s panting breath sent the dust aflutter as he slowly lowered his arm. His jaw ached; had he been gritting his teeth the whole time? Fuck.

Better crack a joke, something to keep it light.

“So, that’s what, four points to me?” Dante said. Both women shot him fierce glares.

“What the fuck, Dante?” Lady began. 

He wiped away the blood still clinging to his face and sighed. “It’s nothing.”

“Didn’t look like nothing,” Trish chimed in. “You good?”

The red-clad man released the tendril of energy connecting him to Balrog, the blood-stained metal vanishing a beat behind. He didn’t know what to say. His rage still flickered within him, an ever present ember waiting for the right moment to flare into an inferno. It might give him an edge; it might consume him. 

Talk about a double-edged sword.

It didn’t matter what was happening in his heart or what it did to him. There was a big ass demon tree growing in his city, ugly bastards swarming the place and who knew what else. It was his job to clean up the mess, no matter who made it. 

Dante snorted. He was, in essence, a janitor. 

He cracked his neck. It was time to clean. “I’m good.”

[wooyunhwa]

kingdom of welcome addiction | two

view pinned post for masterlist for links to the rest of the parts!

Genre: smut 

Pairing: demon!san x fem!reader

Word Count: 6k

Warnings: blood drinking, choking (like some serious choking you’ve been warned), crying kink, corruption kink, praise kink? idk, mentions of alcohol, virgin mc

Synopsis: When you accidentally summon a bloodthirsty demon boy to your bedroom, you form an unexpected contract with him.

A/N: Thank you for reading and comments are super appreciated as always!

It had been a few weeks since you’d last summoned San. The last time you’d seen him, he’d gone kind of crazy after tasting your blood. You couldn’t forget the darkness in his voice, his all-black eyes shining demonically as he lost it. He had left without even giving himself a chance to explain himself, he just disappeared to, well… wherever it was that demons went, you supposed.

Every so often, your hand would find its way up to check the scar where he’d punctured your neck. Honestly, you just wanted to make sure you hadn’t dreamt it all. As the days went on, you really couldn’t be sure. Eventually the scar dwindled to a faint red mark, and then to nothing at all. 

The sticky note was still pinned to the wall above your desk, taunting you every time you saw it. Each time you’d think today was the day you’d call him back, and yet, you hadn’t been able to do it.  

Until you were drunk, that is. 

You had a particularly rough day of classes. Your professor had called you out in front of the whole class for a mistake you made on an assignment, and it ripped you apart. When you got home, you had poured out a few pathetic drinks to drown the pain of the day, wanting nothing more than to curl up in your bed and disappear. But you forgot one vital thing. When you drank alone, you got sad. Like, really sad. The tears seemed to flow endlessly, and there was a point at which you even forgot why you were crying—or drinking—in the first place. 

There was a part of you that needed in that moment to not be alone, even for just a second. Embarrassed to call any of your friends over, you turned to the only companion who couldn’t turn you down.

Your demon boy.

You ripped the post-it off the wall, finally ready to use it, drunkenly singing out the Latin a few times until it was comprehensible enough to work.  

He was perched on your desk when he appeared. You stumbled back drunkenly, startled by his sudden appearance despite knowing you were summoning him. You just forgot how jarring it was. 

“Oh, you have to be kidding me,” San grumbled. You weren’t sure if he was responding to your sudden summoning, or the fact that you were leaking tears all over the place pathetically, but you couldn’t even manage to choke out a response through your blubbering. 

“This is way out of my pay grade.” He hopped off the desk, sauntering slowly in your direction. “Have you been drinking, hmm? I can smell that cheap liquor from a mile away. It’s fogging up your pretty little scent.”

You wiped the tears from your eyes pitifully. “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have summoned you. You can leave.”

“I did miss your cute little human face, I suppose,” he said softly. He was standing close now, towering over you. You pulled your gaze up to meet his eyes, and he gave a gentle pet to your head. In any other situation, it would be sweet, but the look in his eyes was chilling. He looked at you like prey, a piece of meat—and yet his words dripped off his tongue like the sweetest honey. “Don’t cry, okay?” 

His thumb drew across your cheek, passing faintly over your lips, collecting tears. He brought his hand up to his tongue, licking it clean of the saltwater, not breaking eye-contact for even a second. “Virgin tears. Almost as good as the blood,” he sang, eyes rolling back in his head in a quick moment of bliss for just a moment before fixing back on your face. “Almost.”

You forgot how alluring he was, his sharp-featured face in particular. There was something magnetic about it, you couldn’t pull your gaze away no matter how intense he was. 

“So why’d you call me, hmm, darling?” He flashed his teeth villainously. “Missed my bite that much? Have something new to offer, perhaps?”

You dropped your gaze, but he tipped your chin up to meet his again almost immediately. “Look me in the eyes, darling. You’re the one that summoned me, the least you could do is give me that.”

“I shouldn’t have called you here. I shouldn’t have even thought—I should have known you wouldn’t care beyond your own interests,” you said, voice hoarse and shaky through your tears. 

He shrugged. “You’re probably right.”

“Asshole.” 

His brows furrowed. “Okay, a little uncalled for. But not entirely untrue.” He placed his hands on your shoulders, guiding you to the bed. It took only a small nudge to plop you down. You felt the effects of the alcohol wash over you. “We can make a contract. If it makes you feel better.”

“What, you’re gonna ask for my blood again?” you scoffed.

“No.”

“Then?”

“Your tears.”

You paused, considering the stakes. “Fine, take them. What do I get?”

He took a seat next to you on the plush blanket, placing a surprisingly comforting hand on your back. “I’ll listen to you. Like, uh… a demon therapist,” he smiled at you from your side, flashing his fangs cheekily. “I promise I’ll do my best to stay serious. I’m contractually obligated.”

“Fine,” you agreed, slightly annoyed at how difficult you found it to resist him. His devilish charm was too much for you—even sober, but especially drunk. 

“Tears first,” he said decidedly, and you caught a glimpse of desire spark in his eyes. 

You nodded, shuffling your butt on the bed to face him. You expected him to run his fingers over your face, like he had earlier. Instead, he brushed his thumb over the side of your face slowly, dancing along the cut of your jaw, then leaned in to brush his lips over your cheek. You flinched as his lips connected with your skin softly, and you felt the distinct wetness of his tongue brushing over the surface. He lapped at your tears through deliberate, drawn-out kisses, and the cold metal of his lip ring felt unexpectedly nice drawing over your cheek. 

His hand came around to the back of your head, lacing his fingers in your hair to steady you. It was incredibly sensual, whether he meant it to be or not. He moaned pleasurably at the taste of your tears, though he didn’t have the same animalistic hunger he seemed to have when he’d tasted your blood. Probably for the best. 

“You’re so cute when you’re crying. Like a helpless little lamb. If I weren’t supposed to be nice to you right now, I’d have a half a mind to make you cry again,” he purred against your ear. 

His other hand threaded around the small of your waist, like he’d done when he drank your blood before. And you couldn’t lie, you kind of loved it. His position was unexpectedly romantic: one hand cupped around your waist, the other laced in your hair, delivering soft kisses and licks across your cheeks. You closed your eyes to get a better idea of the sensation, fisting your hands needily in the silky fabric of his button down. 

You felt him pull away suddenly, an amused smirk dancing up on his lips. “Someone’s getting spicy. This wasn’t in our contract.” 

Fuck. Something in your mind was telling you to kiss him. Not just telling, but more like screaming at you. Fucking kiss him. His lips looked so soft and alluring, so dangerously off-limits. You leaned in slightly, magnetized by his aura, only to feel him pull away entirely. 

“Okay. I’ve had my fun,” he said. He ran a hand through his hair, roughing it up messily, giving you a perfect view at the cut of his jaw. “Now I hold up my end of the deal. You talk, I listen.”

Do we have to talk? you thought, annoyed. I’d rather just make out.

You gritted your teeth together as you tried desperately to shift your thoughts away from kissing him. But you couldn’t help but think about how his lips would taste against your lips, how his tongue would dance sinfully against yours, his fingers laced in your hair—god, what was wrong with you? It was probably all the drinks you had, making you unnecessarily sad and even more unnecessarily horny for your hot demon errand boy. You needed to get it the fuck together. 

You pushed away your fantasies for the night, as hard as that was. For the next hour or so, you lamented to him about your rough day, even going into a few things that had happened in the past week. He listened thoughtfully, carefully, though in the back of your mind you knew he was only being so attentive because he was ‘contractually obligated.’ 

You poured your heart to him, feeling incredibly vulnerable under his concentrated gaze. Though this time it wasn’t entirely predatory, but more like interested. Caring, even. You doubted that even was possible. Even so, as you talked, you felt more and more connected with him. 

For a moment, he seemed almost human. 

Summoning San became an almost nightly routine for you. 

You’d summon him, have him help you with mundane activities like homework, cleaning, cooking—whatever task you could think of to keep him around as long as possible. Of course, he couldn’t turn you down unless you didn’t have a reasonable counter to give him. 

Each time you summoned him, it seemed as though he cared less and less about the contract and seemed to enjoy your company a bit more. Not that he’d ever unveil that information to you—he always gave into your mundane proposals begrudgingly, but there was a glint in his eye that said he wanted to be there, even if he wouldn’t admit it yet. 

“You know I have other clients, right?” he’d joke. “You can’t summon me every night.”

“Oh, so you’re cheating on me?” you’d tease back. 

“Don’t worry,” he’d say with a charming wink. “You’re my favorite human.” 

“Not that there’s any competition, but you’re my favorite demon.” 

You loved the playful banter between you. He felt somehow easier to talk to than any human you’d met, perhaps because there was little to no social pressure involved. Something about your dynamic felt almost boyfriend-ish, in a way—if you could consider being a glorified errand boy a boyfriend-ish thing to do. He rarely divulged any personal information about himself, but you got to know him through the littlest things. His small habits, the things that made him laugh. 

You couldn’t believe it, but you were falling for him slowly, like some sort of pathetic schoolgirl crush. The highlight of your day was the minute you could conjure him, even just to see his face smiling in front of you, that familiar devilish grin as he appeared in your room. 

There was still something that felt entirely off-limits, though. Sure, you’d let him drink from your neck a few more times—each time he’d get better at controlling himself—but you weren’t sure how to cross the line from there. He’d been so forward on the very first night you met him. He even asked to take your virginity, which of course you outright denied. But even if it was a joke, if he was just messing with you, the idea swirled in your mind every now and again. You even dreamt of him a few times. But he hadn’t mentioned it since. 

It was late in the night. You had summoned San to do some menial house chores, as you usually did, in exchange for dinner and a back massage—something you weren’t even aware demons needed. San had explained it to you, but you still couldn’t quite wrap your head around the inhuman-soul in a human-vessel dynamic, so you chose not to question it too hard.

Today, something felt different about him. He was flirtier, sexier, more outlandishly charming than usual, if that was even possible. You watched him scrubbing your countertops like your hot demon maid—you even went so far as to dress him in an apron you spent a little too long picking out at the store—marveling at the small of his waist cinched in with the fabric tie. 

“Enjoying the view?” he teased with a playful glance over his shoulder, wiggling his hips. 

“Ugh, I was until you did that,” you joked back. “C’mon, that countertop isn’t gonna scrub itself.”

He gave his hips another shake, chuckling as you trained your gaze on his ass. “You’re so cute when you’re drooling over me. Get it together, darling. You’ve still got a massage to give.”  

He was just joking around with you, you knew that. He was probably just as charming with his other summoners, or his ‘clients’ as he called them. But he was right, you couldn’t help but drool over him. It was moments like this where you fell for him, hard, pretty much flat on your face. You wished so desperately for him to be human right now, just for a second. You wanted him to give you a sweet, squeezing hug, kissing your forehead. You wanted to feel his arms around your waist, pulling you in close. You wanted to ask him on a date. You wanted him. 

But you’d have to settle for watching him clean your house. God, what was wrong with you? You couldn’t have caught feelings for a human boy?

And now you had to give him a massage, which wasn’t going to make it any better. 

He laid himself face down on your bed, face resting gingerly against your pillow. You straddled him, setting yourself down gently on the back of his thighs. You had admittedly never given a massage before, but you weren’t going to let that stop you. Your hands explored below the hem of his shirt, lifting up slowly to reveal the soft, perfectly tanned skin underneath. You were able to get a better view of his proportions, the way his waist curved in so delicately and then up into his beautifully broad shoulders. He was fit, but not too muscular, slender, but not too thin. He was absolutely immaculate. 

You rubbed circles in his back, drawing out the sweetest moans from his lips as you massaged down on his muscles. “I may be cursed with this human body—ah—but this does feel kind of amazing,” he admitted in a voice slightly muffled by the pillows. 

You worked at his muscles until he seemed satisfied, even rolling your palms around his neck and shoulders to hear his sweet groans of pleasure. It was unbelievably enticing, and you felt dampness pooling between your legs.  

When you were done he rolled on to his stomach. You watched in awe at the rise and fall of his chest, the tip of his chin accentuating his sharp jawline. You didn’t want him to leave. 

He stood himself up from the bed, shaking his muscles out a bit before smiling cheekily, flashing his fangs as he always did. “Looks like our contract today is complete. See you tomorrow, hmm?” he winked. 

“San wait—”

“Yes?”

“I want another contract.”

He paused to contemplate, dragging his tongue over his bottom lip in thought. He cocked his pierced eyebrow up, stepping forward to close the distance between you. “What’s that, little lamb? Are you finally gonna let me take that pretty little soul?”

You swallowed, mustering up the courage to make your move. “I want you to kiss me.”

“You—what?” he sputtered, clearly caught off guard by your proposition. 

“I’m asking you to kiss me,” you repeated.

You watched his eyes go dark, slightly hooded as he trained his gaze back on you. In contrast from his lighthearted mood earlier in the day, he looked particularly lustful as his eyes found your lips. 

“So, if you want to make a contra—” 

He was on you before you could finish your sentence. His hands found your hips, squeezing tightly to pull you against him.

His lips lingered over yours, the warmth of his breath washing over you like soft waves. He didn’t stay there for long, pulling your lips against his fully. He tasted like heaven, hell, and everything in between. You craved for him as thirstily, barely coming up for air as your lips rocked slowly against each other’s. One of his hands was laced in your hair, the other steadying against your neck. For a moment, you forgot he was even a demon at all, except for the inhumanly exquisite taste of his lips.

He pulled away for only enough time to choke out his next words in a low growl. “I guess I’ll make an exception on the contract this once. Once.”

He bit playfully at your bottom lip, lightly twirling his tongue around the surface. Then harder. You yelped as his fang sunk in, tearing off a small piece of flesh. He smirked against your lips, drawing his tongue across the blood with sensual breaths. His hands came to your shoulders to swivel your hips around, backing you into the wall next to your door frame, caging you in with his body. 

“I always forget how good you taste,” he purred in your ear. He grasped at your body hungrily through your clothes, like he was ready to rip through them at any moment.

You could have stayed there forever, his body trapping you against the wall, lips on you like he would never have another chance to taste you. But he pushed away suddenly, his eyes flashing a demonic black for a moment angrily. 

“Fuck. I have to go. I’m getting another call,” he hissed through his teeth. 

“San wait I—” 

But he was gone. 

Your knees gave out under you weakly, sliding your back down the wall, staring at the empty space he had occupied. He wasn’t yours. He wasn’t your boyfriend, or even your friend. He was a demon. You couldn’t afford to forget that for even a moment. 

It was just too good to be true.

You didn’t discuss the kiss further, not for a while at least. He’d made a few passing comments on his nightly house calls, but you hadn’t dared bring it up again in conversation. However, on one night in particular, you had summoned him without purpose. You were admittedly lonely, and frankly, a bit horny. You wanted company, and he was always on call. 

“Yes, my liege?” he teased with a bow as he appeared in your room. And there was that intoxicating smile again. 

“Will you just talk to me tonight?”

“Okay, darling. And what do I get, hmm?”

“No contract.”

“You know that isn’t how this wo—” 

“I want to know you’re not just here because you have to be tonight. But if you really don’t want to be here, you can leave. You know the way out.”

He sighed heavily. “Y/N, you know this isn’t—”

“Please.” 

You saw the look on his face soften, and he gave in with a nod that said ‘fine, but just this once’.

You talked across from each other on the bed for a while, talking about anything that came to your mind, though not much about him. He mostly listened, cut in a few times with a quip or a cheeky comment, but kept his eyes trained on you with complete concentration otherwise. You actually hadn’t expected him to be such a good listener. Better than most humans you knew, anyway. You loved the moments where you caught a glimmer of humanity, although you knew that wasn’t possible. The only human thing about him was his body, after all. 

As you made conversation, your mind wandered elsewhere. You couldn’t help but admire the curve of his lips, the sharp cut of his jaw, his crimson eyes shining like rubies. You felt completely intoxicated by him, as you always did. He was entirely tempting and yet felt completely off limits, even though you had entertained many times the thought of him fucking you. The thought flickered through your head even now. You imagined every rise of the muscles in his chest, sweat glistening on his skin as he towered over you. You imagined what his dick might look like, sliding in and out of you. You imagined his lips all over your body, every curve of your skin, every inch of you from head to toe.

The tension in the room grew thick as you watched his mouth, concentrated on every movement, every flick of his tongue, the faint glimmer of his metal lip ring, the fangs glistening under his slightly parted lips. There wasn’t an ounce of subtlety in the way you watched him, and he slowly stopped moving entirely, focusing all his energy on to you again. You craved the intense heat of his gaze now—you were no longer uncomfortable with his severity, only further entranced by how it pulled you in. You were entirely in his trap. You leaned forward, initiating the kiss, and he leaned in to meet you. His tongue slid against yours, and you reciprocated fervently. He tasted incredible, and the way he moaned against your lips indicated he felt the same about you. “You’re intoxicating,” he purred, his heavy breaths sounding like music in your ears. You wanted him, entirely. Since the moment he’d first appeared you’d wanted him.

Your hands explored his chest, his arms, the small of his waist—everywhere you could touch, you did. His chest was rock-solid, a beautiful display of muscle sculpted beautifully on his core. You felt every desire you’d ever had compounding at once within you, it rocked through you like a wave: the need to be touched, held, fucked right this moment. Although you’d never done it before, at least with another person, you had plenty of experience with the vibrator in your room, and recently, with picturing San as you pleasured yourself. Either way, if you had done it with another human or not, it probably wouldn’t have even mattered—he wasn’t human at all, in fact. What he was was danger wrapped up in an alluringly human-like package.  

“I want you to fuck me, San,” you said confidently, letting the words the drip off your tongue, slowly and deliberately. 

Your bodies were nearly flush, and you could feel the heat of his breath against your skin. His finger traced along your jaw, a low grumble rolling up through his throat, coming up through his teeth in a hiss. “You can’t tempt me with that kind of offer,” he growled, and the way his fingers trembled as they met your skin indicated his ultimate self-control. “I don’t think you understand how I can get...”

“I saw it, San, before. Remember? I’m not scared of you,” you countered. But that last part was kind of a lie.

“I can’t,” He took a final step closer, closing any remaining gap between you. “Fuck… you don’t understand how… delicious you look to me right now,” he hissed through his teeth, his voice getting rougher and deeper as he held himself together. “I can’t help myself. It’s like some sort of animal instinct.”

“San, please. I can handle it. You even admitted you wanted my virginity the day we met.”

“I was joking back then… sort of. I might be soulless, but I’m not heartless. I couldn’t hurt you.” He gritted his teeth, restraining his heavy, lusted breaths.

“So you don’t want to?”

“Fuck, I do… I do more than anything. Every time I look at you I picture myself destroying you—”

“Then do it.”

“Gah, you—fuck.” He planted a few restrained kisses down the sensitive skin of your neck. He dragged his fangs along the taut flesh, threatening to sink them in. “I can try to hold myself back. No promises.” 

“Please, San,” you whined. Your hands fisted the silky fabric of his shirt, drawing his chest as close to yours as possible. 

“Mmf,” he grunted against your neck, digging his nails into your waist hungrily. “Fuck, you taste like a drug.” He pulled back, his eyes darker now. His usually crimson irises looked nearly black in his state of temptation, so much so that you could barely make out the whites of his eyes. He looked more like a demon than ever before, the wicked aura almost possessing him. He shook his head, as if trying to purify himself. “I can’t—I’m gonna hurt you. Don’t do this to me, I’m not going to be able to—” 

You pulled down the collar of your shirt, revealing your shoulders and a hint of your chest. His eyes went hungry, trained on the soft curve of your collarbone lustfully, wickedly. “I’m giving my body to you, please... Take it.” 

His voice was a low growl, and he seemed to be restraining himself with everything he had left. Thick, enraged veins bulged from his forearms as he grasped at your waist. “I’m telling you, I’m going to lose control… you’re not gonna recognize me.”

“I know. San, please. I’m asking you to take my virginity.”

He finally snapped under your words, his eyes almost fully consumed with black now. His lips attached to your collarbone, sucking gently at the soft skin around it. His desperate clawing nearly tore the fabric of your shirt from your skin as his kisses feasted on you hungrily. You tipped your head back, his lips and tongue eliciting soft moans from you as they danced along the top half of your chest.

His voice was so deep now it nearly rumbled, barely sounding like the San you knew. “You’re delicious—fuck—even better than I remember.” 

His hands pushed you back against the pillows with more strength than he probably meant to use, nearly knocking the wind out of you with his force. He sunk his teeth into your shoulder, and you yelped in surprise at the sting of his teeth in your flesh. You felt the distinctly wet and all-too-familiar sensation of blood as the canines pierced your skin. He licked it clean, his whole body shaking with desire as your blood washed over his tongue. He sang the most beautiful moans you’d ever heard into your skin, lapping up every last drop clean from where he’d punctured you. 

You had grown addicted to the sensation of his teeth on your skin and his tongue licking up the blood, like some sort of weird demon-vampire fetish you had never considered before. You laced your fingers in his hair as he worked his way down your chest, tearing away the fabric of your shirt apart with his hands like it was a wet piece of paper, and he didn’t stop until the mess of torn fabric that used to be your shirt slipped off of you easily. His lips kissed and marked your breasts as he worked his way down, then ripped off your pants with the same distinct sound of fabric being torn through like it was nothing. 

His dark eyes gleamed hungrily as he met your gaze. He used his tongue sinfully between your thighs, teasing you mercilessly as he kissed and licked around the seam of your panties. You were soaking wet now, the fabric of your underwear entirely drenched from the anticipation. Not just from today, but from the past few weeks of fantasizing about him completely wrecking you. His fangs gripped into the wet fabric, nearly taking your skin with it as he pulled your panties out from between your legs—the only piece of clothing he hadn’t entirely torn off.

“What a cute little human pet,” he purred seductively in your ear, dragging his fingernails across the cut of your jaw. You winced as he drew his hand over your freshly bitten wound. “It’s too bad your blood won’t be so sweet after I’m done with you, hmm, darling? Maybe just one more time, hmm?”

You felt his teeth sink down into your shoulder, and he pulled you entirely flush against him as he bit down with more ferocity than before. You cried out against him as he slipped his tongue delicately over the wound. His hungry grip around your waist grew tighter with every lick. 

“San—ah—” you cried out, a mix of pain and pleasure as he soothed your wound with his tongue, hands coming up to squeeze your breasts.

“I could drain you right here,” he growled harshly, but there was still lust coating his words. You felt his dick harden in his pants as he pulled his teeth from your skin, leaving the aching sting of the fresh wound on your collarbone. You felt a bit dizzy now, not only with lust but also from losing quite a bit of blood to his tongue. He stood up suddenly, stripping like clothes meant nothing to him, ripping them off and tossing them to the floor. His breathing was less like breaths and more like throaty grunts. You were able to marvel at his naked body for only a second before he climbed on top of you, forcing you to lie completely flat under him, his broad shoulders closing you in completely.

“Such a cute human,” he praised, marveling at your smallness, your complete powerlessness beneath him. You couldn’t move if you wanted to, his body caged you in from all sides—it’s a good thing you didn’t want to. His eyes were intense, predatory, but not entirely possessed like he had been before just at the mere taste of your blood. You were surprised by his restraint he seemed to be holding on to. “Tiny, powerless… I want to hear you beg for me,” he purred into your ear. As he awaited your response, he lapped gently at the wounds he’d made earlier, collecting the remaining blood on his tongue with a needy moan.  

“Please, San—” you started apprehensively, unsure of exactly what he wanted from you. Your voice cracked slightly as you spoke, and heat rose in your cheeks. 

He clicked his tongue twice. “Tsk, tsk. I forgot, she’s too pure for this.” 

“Fuck me. Please—” 

“That’s better darling.”

“I want your cock, please, San.”

“I don’t want to hurt you baby, but you’re too fucking tempting. So cute and helpless beneath me.” He drew one of his hands lightly across your chest, dragging his fingers along every curve. “Begging. Embarrassed. It’s adorable.”

His hand drew over your stomach. Hips. Thighs. Then, finally, between your legs, delivering a small, fleeting taste of the pleasure you’d been searching for all night. You bucked your hips up involuntarily under his touch, and he drew his hand back teasingly. His eyes, hooded with desire, were fixed on your face, reveling in every reaction, every small noise that crept up through your throat. Darkness crept through them, nearly entirely black now. He looked like a real demon. 

“What a naughty girl. Practically dripping for me. I thought you were pure, hmm? What happened?” he sang condescendingly, a smirk twitching up on his lips. “Be a sweet little pet for me now.” 

He pushed his hips flush with yours, his cock aligning up against you. A low growl ripped through his throat, digging his fingernails into the sheets with a terrifying display of force. “This is probably gonna hurt, darling,” he purred. “Look me in the eyes. I want to see your cute little face as I ruin you.” He tipped your chin up to meet his eyes just as he rutted his hips in for the first time. 

The tip slipped in easily, but you couldn’t help but wince at the sensation. You’d tried toys before, but nothing could compare to the size—or feeling—of the real thing. “Ah—ah San, it—it kind of hurts,” you whined, your face twisting a bit as he pumped a few times, slowly and shallowly. He watched your face with blackened eyes. 

“You have no idea—” Thrust. “How hard—” Thrust. “It is to—” Thrust. “Keep myself from destroying you.” 

Your broken cries echoed loudly as his mouth came down on your wounds once again, delivering wet, desperate licks at the bloody remnants of the punctures he created. It stung harshly, and a single tear escaped your eyes. He pulled away from your chest, positioning himself completely upright, dick still halfway inside of you. You got a good look at his hard chest, an immaculate display of muscle. An unidentifiable tattoo snaked down his right side. He looked almost statuesque poised above you. 

“Such pretty tears. My little lamb,” he praised with a low growl, sinking his fingernails into the flesh of your thighs. “Fuck—tell me I can ruin you—” his fingernails dug deeper.

You nodded, urging him on. You initiated it, you wanted it, even if he scared you a bit with his harsh gaze and his tightening grip threatening to mark up your skin. “Yes. Please.” With a single thrust he bottomed out inside you entirely, eliciting a sharp cry from your lips. You tossed your head back, but you could still feel the heat of his stare following your every moment, taking in every curve and scar of your body. “Good little human,” he praised, stroking your thighs as he thrust in again. Every movement he made overwhelmed your senses entirely—a lethal mix of the sting of your wounds, the sensitivity of his hands exploring your thighs, the feeling of his dick stretching out inside you, and finally, how much you craved him. 

His hand came up to your throat, latching on to it with a steady viced grip. His eyes went hooded, hungry as he squeezed the air from your lungs. Harder. Tighter. His fingers viced around your neck with dizzying force. You squirmed beneath him, clawing at his hand desperately. TV static buzzed in your brain, and the world went blurry. You just barely caught a glimpse of his black eyes fading back to red before your vision slipped away into darkness. 

Your eyes shuttered open to the familiar image of your ceiling. You recognized you were in your own bed, fully clothed, tucked under the covers neatly. Before you could survey your surroundings, San’s face was above you, eyebrows slightly furrowed, tilting his head as he looked down at you. You’d never seen his eyes so soft.

“Look, she’s awake.” His voice was calmer than usual, warmer. “How do you feel?”

“Like hell,” you croaked, voice hoarse as you choked out your words. 

“I don’t say this often...” he started, placing a hand on your head. “But I’m sorry. We shouldn’t have even done that in the first place. I went too far.”

“I—what happened—”

“You blacked out. I, uh, well... I choked you until you passed out. I told you, it’s hard for me to control myself like that.” 

“Did you—”

“Of course not,” he interjected, not even letting you finish. He knew what you were implying. “As soon as you stopped moving it snapped me out of it.”

You dropped your gaze, recalling how you saw his black eyes turn to normal right before you lost consciousness. “Right. Uh… thanks.”

“I like my prey fresh, anyways. It’s not fun when I can’t watch them squirm.” And there it was. His devilish smile again. His tongue twitched across his lower lip, playing with his lip ring absentmindedly. He quickly cleared his throat when he saw the unamused expression on your face. “I hope… uh, I hope at least you were having fun before—you know.”

You nodded in response as you tried to sit upright in the bed. Bad idea. Your vision went dizzy, and a rush of pain pounded through your skull. “Ah—ow, fuck.”

“Should I get you some water or something? Whatever it is that humans want when they hurt.” 

You rolled your eyes at his pointedly un-human response. “Sure, water sounds fine.”

He retrieved you a glass from the kitchen, setting it on the nightstand. “I hate to do this, but I’ve been here for way too long,” he started hesitantly. You could see the regret in his eyes. “Without a contract too. I could get in trouble for this.”

“It’s fine, you can go,” you muttered. “I could use some sleep right now anyway.” 

He nodded quietly, administering a small, strangely awkward pat to your head. “Right. Well, uh… get some sleep.” 

You barely blinked before he was gone, but it didn’t matter anyway. You were asleep before you could even take a sip of the water he’d gotten you.