#maybe he DID want things once upon a time. But not by the time Sins happens for sure!!!

[honestlyvan]

I'm in the mood for beloved horrible men doing horrible things and I've been thinking, could you elaborate on what you said about how Impactor is not someone who would rape for pleasure but he WOULD as a means of control?

Everyone point and laught at Barbie for having the bad taste to like my favourite character.

I'M SURPRISED THAT IT'S NOT A MORE POPULAR READ TBH. Like why does this fandom want this fuck to have such things as A Good Time and Ability To Enjoy Himself. Impactor is so shameless, so cruel, and he doesn't even have the temerity to enjoy himself, he's not even a sadist, he's just a joyless causer of misery and a plague on the lives of everyone he meets.

I think for me what it comes down to is that rape is about power, ultimately. Sexually violent characters who I could see doing it for the pleasure are ultimately also doing it because they're reveling in the power to extract that pleasure from someone else. But Impactor is just so joyless and miserable when he isn't riding an adrenaline high... that's just not him, to me. It doesn't parse, I don't think he really cares that he has power and authority to wield over other people. He treats the Wreckers with the same instrumentality he treats himself with.

So sexual violence would be no different as a tool of violence than, say, kicking someone's shit in. It's just as violent and painful as a beating, and just as humiliating and violating as torture. It would be a very useful tool to be able to pull out to threaten people with just for those qualities, and I think that's where utility for Impactor would be. Because the other aspect of it is the intimacy -- but that's not a game Impactor is willing to play, just based on the fact that he regularly gets mad at his friends for knowing how he feels.

Impactor might not be a literal walking corpse in IDW'05 but in spirit, I think that's what he is. It's all ash, to him, there's nothing worth selfishly chasing or trying to possess or achieve that could really mean anything. Nothing short of literally fighting for his life does it for him, so the usual narratives about other people existing to please him creating entitlement just don't make sense to me.

The point where someone can no longer threaten his life is, I think, the point he loses all reason to interact with them, unless having power over that person will somehow bring him closer to a new fight with someone who could actually kill him. The point of fear tactics is to find the people whose fight-or-flight is biased towards fight, and to be hated. But I don't think any kind of dominance over any specific individual just does anything for Impactor, because almost nothing does anything for him, anymore.

[tonkatsubowl]

truth to be told, it takes a lot for aventurine to fully trust someone, let alone loving them.

the man had already lost so much, including his own sense of self. to be stabbed in his back, to be betrayed, to be mocked and used and made fun of—he was used to it. it would take aventurine a while for him to feel comfortable being vulnerable with someone, considering he didn't trust anyone in particular.

though the man wore a gorgeous smile, wandering through the streets of penacony, it wasn't a genuine smile, but a mask he put up. expensive clothing, his beautiful countenance and the abundance of money he liked to toss around... it was just a mask he put up. it was also for the sake of his own reputation, too. especially when you were directly under diamond herself.

the main suspect of his suffering. and the cause of his success. a double edged sword that he walked upon. his own life was theirs. a mere toy, a mere chess piece to gamble with.

...but when he met you, he was confused. afraid, even. but he put up a fake smile, some flirtatious words here and there, but the man did not trust you, nor did he believe you would be willing to stay by his side for an eternity for aeons know what.

when he met you, you were kind, understanding. you were a little stubborn, too, and humorous. you never failed to have aventurine laugh at your cute little jokes, and you never failed to protect him, whether it was against the ipc's mocking him in his name, or against nightmare infested monsters that dared to consume his flesh within a dream.

he was terrified of you.

he didn't know what you were doing to him.

every time he saw you, he felt... weak. vulnerable around you. and he hated it. he loathed it. he hated everything about how you were making him feel, as though you were a curse that came to haunt him due to the sins of his past.

every time he saw you, his heart began to palpitate, his chest aching. and it got worse whenever he saw you so happy with someone else. but... maybe you were better off with someone? everyone kept leaving him, after all, whether it was death or it was simply due to some gambling... game-thing. a business transaction, even.

but you stayed.

you stayed throughout the hardships he faced.

why?

just why?

why, of all people, did you want to stay with him? a once upon a time slave, now a business man specializing in manipulation, gambling (an addiction, to put it), and flirtatious words to soothe the mind so he could win his way.

even through everything, you were still here. that was when he decided to seek out a certain doctor.

he sat across from him, forcing a smile across his lips, but the doctor could see it. the mask that aventurine donned himself with.

"you're in love."

aventurine's eyes looked up to the other, "you must be misreading your books like usual."

"you came here... to me, for your thoughts."

aventurine chuckled to himself, nervously, even.

"love? i haven't heard that word in ages."

"it is a complicated thing. especially with how you can be, gambler. a man who is unpredictable, keen to the eye, and... well, unfamiliar with the positive things."

aventurine cleared his throat, toying with the golden coin in his hand. he purses his lips, his mask wearing off for a moment.

"...now, dr. ratio, i am not doubting your knowledge and intelligence, don't get me wrong. i just don't believe that it truly is such a strange thing called... love."

the genius sighed, "you complained to me the other day that you couldn't stand seeing (y/n) talking to others, smiling and laughing. i recall that i was not assigned to be your therapist, here. the rest should be obvious, but it appears you're too stubborn to catch on... or rather, you're unfamiliar with this feeling. this term. love."

bullseye. it was as though ratio had called him out completely. for once, the gambler was silent. here, he would try to make little comments here and there, some jokes there and wherever but... the man was actually silent.

"... what do you suggest i do, then?"

dr ratio leans in, resting both elbows on his knees, eyes fixated on the gambler's own pristine eyes.

"if you are comfortable with it, move at your own pace if you wish to pursue. this is ultimately your choice. you can pursue these feelings, or you may leave it. there is no right or wrong answer, here. this all depends on you and what you wish to do. love is about being vulnerable with each other. accepting each other at their lowest. being for one another. your lover is considered to be your number one companion, truthfully."

aventurine was quiet.

"what is your gambler's intuition?"

a sigh left aventurine's lips. he stood, flipping the coin in his hand, before showing the result of heads or tails.

"...i suppose i'll make a bet with myself. one that doesn't cost money or the finest of gold and jewelry."

the genius watched as the other male got up from his seat, retrieving his sunglasses from his expensive outfit, before placing them on. "i'll make a gamble, to be specific, about this."

"then i wish you the best of luck, aventurine."

months had past, and the two of you were already in a relationship. it had been months, but the man didn't dare to tell you, 'i love you' just yet. as a matter of fact, those words were terrifying for him. what if he lost you after he said that? what if something were to happen to you? he was terrified of saying it, as he wasn't ready yet.

dr. ratio was right—he was paranoid to the bone but hid it. yet, aventurine played a few cards and decided to gamble this relationship with you, to see if it could work out. and so far, everything was well.

you were understanding, kind, beautiful, patient... the perfect partner someone could ask for.

but it also felt undeserving.

did... he deserve this love? did he truly deserve to experience the harmony that his heart fluttered to? he began to doubt. then he spiraled into a panic.

he began to sleep restlessly at night, rendering himself vulnerable to nightmares and the instability of his mind.

... but you were there, throughout all of it.

his eyes shot open, the familiar warmth of your hand gently cupped at his left cheek. he had fallen asleep on the couch, reading a long text presented to him by his supervisor, which was mainly just work and business related things. he didn't realize he had fallen asleep, and at first was confused when he woke up.

his phone was placed securely on the table, and there was a blanket draped over him. the air conditioning was turned on for his comfort, and before him was a tray full of biscuits, tea... for him to savor in once he woke from his nightmare.

"are you... alright?" you asked. "you were having a bad dream."

his eyes traveled to your voice, finding your concerned expression, his palpitating heart now steadying at an easy rate. he began to breathe, his eyes softening.

you were here, at his most vulnerable state, concerned for his well-being. he was silent, but he immediately reeled you in for a gentle hug. he was reluctant, but he wanted to feel the rest of your warmth. your head was buried into his chest, and you could hear his heart slow down. he closed his eyes, calming down from his inner demons.

"...you're okay." you murmur, brushing the top of his hair with your hands. "i'm here for you."

you didn't know much about him at all, truth to be told. the man wasn't really comfortable sharing his past with you, yet. he was a locked chest, and in order to find the key to his past, you had to be patient. time was key, but whatever demons he was facing at night... he knew you would be there.

he had doubts, at first, and always believed that he'd always be alone.

but... you were a different story.

"...thank you," he whispers onto your ear, cradling you close to his chest, "for being here."

your gaze softens, and you were silent for a moment. this was the first time you've seen aventurine like this. so vulnerable, so... reliant on you. but you were okay. because everyone has their own weakness. not everyone was perfect, and you understood that.

"... don't thank me." you say, closing your eyes, taking in his scent as the two of you nuzzled up against each other on the couch, "please don't. it's my job—my duty, as your other half, to be here for you."

dr. ratio's words echoed into his brain, reminding him of what love truly is. being there for one another, no matter what.

"you haven't been here?"

months past, and aventurine is presenting a beautiful, scenic view of penacony for you. the night sky was phenomenal, and the beautiful sounds of crickets and late night critters were no more than music to your ears. you seat yourself at the bench, whilst the gambler was walking around, admiring the view... taking pictures, even.

"i haven't, but now i am." you say, flashing a smile.

aventurine took some time off today to take you out on a date. the man had more than enough sick and vacation leave to do this for you, and it's the first time where he actually used it.

he sits next to you, admiring the night sky, and the sight of you above all else.

"it's a beautiful sight. i come here when i want to... relax."

your gaze softens, and your hand comes towards his own. digits intertwine, and you murmur something, audible for your lover's ears.

"thank you for taking me here. to your safe place."

aventurine looks over to you, puzzled.

"... safe place, huh? didn't expect to... call it that. but i guess that's what you can say for this spot. i can feel at peace here." he nods slowly, looking back to the scenic view.

"... it's a spot where you can feel vulnerable and be okay with it," you say, instantly catching his attention, "and i want to thank you for trusting me to bringing me here. i really, really do appreciate it."

ratio's words echo through his mind once more, the pad of his thumb suddenly reaching over, gently lifting your chin. he leans in, granting you a subtle kiss, in which you've returned.

"... may... i be vulnerable, once again?"

he lowered his guard, his voice coming to a whisper.

"you... can always be vulnerable around me. i want to be your safe person." you respond, in a whisper.

"..." he was silent. "i love you."

it was the first time, too, that he said such a thing to you. such strong words that let your heart skip a few beats. your face comes to a faint, vermillion flush, but you were happy nonetheless. you smile, cupping each side of his face.

"i love you too."

[faerievampling]

A Vampire's Courage

Summary: The Dark Urge and Spawn!Astarion, after having decided to remain friends, have been traveling together after the defeat of the Netherbrain. One night, an opportunity strikes, and Astarion makes his move.

Pairing: Spawn!Astarion x Female Dark Urge

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: 18+, Explicit. PiV. Oral Sex. Vaginal Fingering.

Here's the link to AO3!

It was nice to know Astarion watched you as you slept, because the nightmares never really went away. After you refused your birthright, your nightmares simply became about the nightmares that Bhaal had plagued you with. 

When you and Astarion began to travel alone, it became something you both needed just so you could rest. It reminded him of the nights you spent together: he had watched you as you slept then, too. 

You had ended things after he had to tie you up to prevent you from killing him. But the two of you remained close friends. After the battle, everyone went their separate ways: Shadowheart had her parents, Karlach and Wyll went to Avernus, Lae’zel to fight a war with Vlaakith, and Gale to his mother and tower in Waterdeep. 

But you and Astarion really only had each other. Which was okay with you. You had continued to be an adventurer, with the ultimate goal of finding a way for Astarion to walk in the sun. 

But after a few months, your need for…privacy was overwhelming. And you didn’t really know how to tell Astarion this. You thought of hiring a prostitute, one who would be gentle or sweet with you, but you certainly couldn’t trust a stranger - you used to kill strangers all the time!

No, you wanted to just be alone, to pleasure yourself as much as you’d like and get it out of your system. 

Astarion being around didn’t help, either. You had always been quite attracted to him, and nowadays, he was around you far too often with his shirt off. To see him at the fall of night, when he rises from sleep, looking so handsome and restful, was pure temptation being left at your doorstep. 

You often thought about your nights together, and you wondered if he did too. But the two of you were so close now, you thought maybe it was wrong of you. You didn’t know, you were kind of born less than a year ago. You were still figuring out the world.

After the two of you had cleaned up from a fight, you drink at the inn, as you always did. Strangers often approached you: you and Astarion were quite a sight.

“Maybe we should disguise ourselves,” You jokingly offer, taking a large sip of ale as you try to ignore the burning stare from across the room. 

“I rather like turning them down, don’t you, darling?” He asks teasingly, giving you a naughty look over his wine glass. 

You hum. “I wish I didn't have to.” You realize you’ve had too much to drink, and you fear that maybe you're forgetting the ‘some things are for private and not public’ talk Astarion had with you. 

Astarion’s eyebrows knit. “What do you mean?”

“It’s…I shouldn’t have said anything. It’s private,” You recite, trying to cue him in while also realizing when you’ve been too vulnerable, too open. 

That woman was walking over now, and she was really unsettling. Something about her, maybe it was just her looks, but even the way she handled herself: she reminded you of Kressa. and Kressa reminded you of Orin. And Orin reminded you of….every disgustingly sinful thing you could recall. It was all so vague, so random and spotty, but you knew. 

You suddenly have the urge to jump out of your skin. Astarion notices her, too, and he reaches his hand across the table, taking yours in his. “Let’s get out of here, my darling. I’m famished, and you are exactly the treat I need,” he flirts, and you know it’s his act to get you away from the approaching woman, who has now retreated upon hearing Astarion’s declaration. 

His hand is cool, but it feels nice cradled in your own. You want to interlock your fingers with his, but you think twice. Once you get to your shared room, Astarion sits beside you on your bed. 

“Better now?”

“Yes, thank you,” You say, giving his hand a squeeze before releasing it, bringing your hand to mindlessly play with the ends of your hair. “Now that we’re in private, I can say whatever I’d like, right?”

“You can always say whatever you want, my dear. I just want you to be careful with who you share information with.” 

“But I can trust you.”

“Yes,” He says with conviction, his gaze soft and deep. 

But you cower under his devastating beauty. He was so handsome, and so close to you. Your mind was still on his hand and the way he had touched you; it was enough to send a shiver of arousal through your body. You felt that wetness between your thighs and you cursed at yourself because you knew that he knew.

“I don’t need to tell you. Don’t make me say it,” You turn your face away, trying to hide your rising blush from the fucking vampire, as if you could. Your heart is racing, and you wish he wouldn’t have sat so close to you. 

You look back at him as you speak. “I-I just need some privacy, is all.” 

His pupils dilate, his stare intense as he stands up. “Yes, of course, I understand,” You think he’s stumbling with his words, too. He has a familiar look on his face, like there’s something on the tip of his tongue, but he looks away from you. “And I won’t even tease you about it too much, my dear.”

You mindlessly rub your thighs together, trying to tangle with your rising heat. You think he’s about to leave, but he doesn’t move.

After a moment, “But, I could…help you. Be with you.” He turns to you, his eyes round and wet, and this was definitely not the reaction you had expected. It reminded you of when he confessed his feelings for you - and a pang of regret fills your heart. 

Astarion sits beside you again, taking your hand in his. “Don’t question this. If you want this, then just let me keep going, or I’ll lose my courage,” His voice is barely above a whisper, and his other hand slowly reaches for your jaw. 

His touch is light and curious. 

He brings his face close to yours, and you can feel the flutter of his pretty eyelashes against your skin as your eyes shut. His breath is on you, and your heart is racing. 

When you fail to stifle a moan, Astarion can’t help it any longer.

His lips meet yours decidedly, his grip on your jaw becoming just a bit tighter. His kisses are so soft, and Astarion moans when he gently pushes his tongue between your lips.

“So sweet,” Astarion breaks the kiss to whisper against your skin.

You only think about what Astarion said for a moment before his hand is trailing down your breast, undoing the laces of your shirt as you go.

Part of you wants him to stop, to slow down, because you’re afraid you’ll hurt him, or his touches will become painful, despite how featherlight they are: but none of these things happen as he frees your breasts from the clasp that keeps them from him.  

He breaks your soft kisses to eye your chest as he takes off his own shirt; and you can’t help but ogle him. But he’s doing the same to you, so you assure yourself it’s okay, that this is okay. 

“You’re so beautiful,” He places a kiss on your nipple, making you squirm in desperation. 

Astarion’s lips are on you again, and he’s pushing you back on the bed. He’s made expert work of the laces of your trousers, and he tugs them off, bringing your underclothes with them.

You’re fully naked, and feeling vulnerable - it had been a few months since you and Astarion had been together. And he was the only one you could remember.

You wonder if he even knew that. You don’t think you ever told him, but you think maybe that’s important. The thought completely disappears from your mind when Astarion brings his strong hands to spread your legs, revealing your glistening, swollen cunt. Your lips are puffy, your clit engorged, and you feel embarrassed by Astarion’s sudden examination of your sex. 

“Perfect,” He says, looking up at you as he places a kiss to your clit, a string of your juices trailing from his pretty lips. You couldn’t believe how desperate you were. His lips are on you again, his tongue lapping at your folds as he tastes you.  

Astarion is moaning against your sex, and he reluctantly pulls away from you only to finish undressing himself. Your heart is pounding wildly as you see the spring of his hardened sex, and you have nearly forgotten its size. 

Your vampiric friend doesn’t make you wait long before his lips are on your cunt again. His tongue is making slow, steady circles around your clit, and you think you might unravel beneath him right here and now. 

But Astarion must want to keep doing this with you, because he shifts his focus to your entrance. He pushes his tongue between your slick walls, meaning to taste your depths, something he had never done to you before. There was something intimate about it, something desperate and wanting, and he went as deep as his tongue would allow. 

He moved his tongue in and out of you, the sensation of his nose pressing against your clit driving you mad. 

His ruby eyes are watching you, locked on yours, and they are so unlike the other times you’d been with Astarion.

He was there. He was present, and he wanted to make you come, and he surely had other plans beyond that. 

By the time his lips wrap around your clit again, the waves of pleasure have built up, so high that every sensation of his touch sends shocks throughout your body. Every swipe of his tongue, every caress and light touch he’s leaving on your waist, your hips, your nipples: it drives you mad. Your cunt is convulsing before either of you can stop it, and you’re coming on his tongue.

Astarion releases you from his lips once you squirm away from him as he overstimulates you. 

“You’re delicious, love,” His voice is low and gruff, and gods is it sexy. “You must have a taste,“ is all he can manage before he crashes his lips into yours, fangs threatening to break the skin of your bottom lip. 

Your come is nearly tasteless, like water, and with its musk filling your nose, you understood why Astarion liked it. Suddenly, you were eager to taste his.

When one of his dexterous fingers probes your entrance, the sensation reminds you of her, you don’t even know what it is you recall, but your muscles instinctively contract after just a knuckle has entered you.

Astarion pulls away from you, eyes round with concern, pupils blown in lust. You can see how much he wants you, and Astarion is your best friend: your partner in crime. You trusted him fully.

And so, you blink away the thoughts of the past, and try to move forward. 

“More, please, Astarion,“ You moan, earning a sloppy grin from him as he gently eases two fingers into your entrance with almost no resistance. 

You can’t help but look at his strong hands and forearms as he begins to work on you, his dexterous fingers caressing that sweet spot inside of you that makes your legs tremble. You can see his veins, his muscles moving beneath his beautiful porcelain skin, and it makes it all more pleasurable.

“Like what you see?” He teases you, causing you to tilt your chin back to his face, which is arguably even more beautiful than any other inch of him: no, you think. He is just gorgeous all over. Plain and simple. 

“Yes, you’re so…” but you drift off, because Astarion is hitting that delicate spot inside you over and over, and you’re a mess. Astarion has captured your lips again, entrapping you in deep, tender kisses as you desperately clench around him, your juices flowing down his wrist and onto the bed.

“Gods above,” Astarion moans, pulling his fingers out of you before he uses your juices to wet his cock, pumping it in his fist as his eyes roam over you. “Let me give you more, darling, please.”

You aren’t sure what he means by this; you think it could be many things, or at least several things, but you aren’t good with figuring stuff out like that. By the context, you deduce that at the very least, he certainly means he wants to fuck you with his cock. 

His curls are disheveled, the tips of his hair bouncing as he thrusts into himself. His chin and nose are still wet with your juices, and you want to give him so much more. 

But you feared that if you continued on like this, if you let him fuck you, come in you, bite you, hold you, any of those things, you were seriously fucked if this was one sided. But then again, you were already so far gone. The man’s tongue had been inside you, for gods sake!

Yes, it was far, far too late for you.

Your heart was in his hand. Astarion must have seen you size yourself down; using his free hand, he tenderly cups your jaw, drawing you into a kiss that makes your heart jump in your chest. It brings back your courage.

“Please, Astarion, I want you inside of me,” You breathe against his jaw, and he moans at your words, pulling away to line himself up with your entrance. 

You feel the pressure as his tip pushes against your walls; Astarion is already a lost man, by what you can see. His eyebrows are drawn together, his eyes narrowed and focused on the sight of him pushing into you; his mouth is parted, and the tip of his fangs visible beyond his pretty full lips. 

Once he’s halfway inside you, he begins to slowly move in and out of you. He throws his head back with a sigh of relief as his pace quickens. 

“I’ve thought about this more than you know,” His words make your heart thump wildly in your chest, and he smiles at your reaction. Before he can push himself any further into you, his pace slows, and he brings his torso down to yours.

His kisses are so sweet, his tongue so gentle in your mouth, and he’s been so delicate with you, you can’t help the tears that start to fall down your cheeks. 

Astarion pulls away, his eyes locked to you as he plants a kiss to one tear and uses a thumb to swipe another. Before more tears could fall, Astarion’s pace quickens again, and his lips are planted to yours, wrapping you up in ecstasy. 

But the moment Astarion pushes deeper inside of you, he loses control, and he’s saying your name as he comes thick ropes of seed inside you. 

You sit up, giving Astarion some space to recover, as he did all the work. You sat at the edge of the bed and Astarion lay on his back. You realize you’ve totally zoned out once you feel the tips of Astarion’s fingers graze your naked back, sending a shiver through your body.

“What are you thinking?” Astarion prompts you. Surely, you can’t tell him that you are thinking you’re hopelessly in love with him and you want to spend forever with him. 

And this may have been irresponsible of you, too; you were a fertile woman, and you were a Bhaalspawn. You weren't sure about vampire fertility, or if the child would even be a Bhaalspawn considering your Father took away his essence in you. But you didn’t know. You couldn’t be sure. 

“I was thinking that was very special to me, and I was hoping you felt the same.” You thought that was pretty good and summed up your feelings well enough. Without the undying love part and the pesky fertility thing. Bah.

You hear Astarion sit up behind you. “That was the best sex I’ve ever had, love,” he says with a melancholy chuckle,”Yes, that was special to me. Everytime with you has been. You are very special to me.”

Before you can turn to face him, he wraps his arm around your waist, drawing you into him, maneuvering your back to his chest. He kisses your temple, and you close your eyes, trying to imagine a normal wedding to him rather than a Bhaalist one.

Masterlist

[lustlovehart]

I'll Suffer Your Sin

A/n: Based off of this thought: “My Crime To Commit” | pt. 2 : Hell Is A Place Without You

Summary: You shouldn’t have to become him, he won’t let it happen so, take it all out on him, he’ll be your solution if it means saving you. [Blade lets you stab him a bunch because he loves you.]

Warnings: Blood, Violence, Minor deaths, Possessive Characteristics (Blade), Major Character & Reader Injuries, Blade loves you but does not show it very good,

“Are you planning on just staring at me? Cause if you want we can talk about what happened.” Your figure is sat on a stool, leaning into the mahogany table as your hand lifts a glass onto your lips.

The lights are dimmed to the point that if anyone passed by they wouldn’t see the bodies that laid on the floor, but they were bright enough to see the numerous splatters of blood splashed around the space. Or, maybe a more accurate depiction would be dumped.

Even the man leaning next to you is colored red, but you’re the only clean thing in the room.

“No. You should rest.”

“I didn’t do anything.”

“You did enough.”

“An attempt is enough to you?”

“Yes.”

Your fingers pinch onto your nose bridge, a sigh escaping your lips as you turn the chair to look at him.

“Why won’t you let me help you? I’m perfectly capable of killing too— ” the turn of his head is sharp, it’s the first time you’ve ever seen him outside of a battle react so quickly.

“I’m not letting you commit the same sins I do.” Your eyes make contact, but your hearts don’t seem to connect at the subject. You don’t get it.

“What? Do you think i’m not capable of doing such a thing? I’m perfectly fine with doing it, is that not what you-“

His body lifts itself from leaning on the counter, walking over to one of the deceased corpses and ripping out the dagger held in their palm. He examines it quickly before wiping the blood off the handle, he does not do the same for the edge.

“Blade…? What are you doing?”

His body turns around and walks over to you, his hand taking hold of your arm, pulling you out of your seat. Not too rough, but not gentle either.

Your eyes widen for a moment as he lifts the weapon up. Is he going to…? No he wouldn’t, not to you at least. His eyes don’t fail to notice the shift in your eyes.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.”

“Oh… Okay… So then what is that for?” Your eyes are attached to the sight of the weapon in front of you, but the man's vision doesn’t move away from you. He tosses the dagger up and catches it in his palm, the hilt facing towards you as his skin is sliced, his own blood seeping from the corners.

He leans into you, he's done it many times before so you have no clue why this one feels different… His lips graze your ears as his low voice whispers into it.

“You wish to murder? Then kill me.”

…

“… What…?”

His left hand grabs hold of your waist, pulling you closer. His other palm wrapping around your hands and guiding you to take hold of the weapon, his grip relentlessly tight as he doesn’t let go. It’s so firm you wouldn’t be able to make him let go if you tried.

“I’ll let you. If you want to kill, do away with me. Plunge this weapon into my heart as many times as you long for, it’s all yours to massacre.” He raises your grasp on the weapon high into the air, not even allowing you a chance to answer before plunging it deep into his heart. Upon impact blood begins to gush out, staining your fingers a deep red.

“Blade…! What are you—?! Yingxing—!” You fight to let his hold on you falter, but it doesn’t let up. Not even for a moment. He pulls the edge out from his heart, lifting your hands up together once more, ready to stab himself again.

“If doing this kills your urge to let yourself fall into hell, i’ll do it hundreds of times more.” You can feel him preparing himself for another blow. Your head searches for a way to stop this act. The way his left arm is pulling you in by the waist is strong, you know you can’t push him away. The same goes for the hand holding your own and the dagger together.

And so he does it again. Then again. These blows are enough to murder anyone immediately, but he still stands, so does his grasp on you, never faltering.

So you do what you can with the only free part of you.

Right when you feel his hand bringing the blade down, you place your own hand right in the spot he plans to further wound himself. Your eyes clench, fully expecting the weapon to pierce through your skin. When time came to, there was still a sharp pain on you, but it did not stab through the way you thought it would.

The scene playing out in front of him makes the familiar, unwanted, sensation of Mara bubbling up within him come to light once more.

When your eyes open, the look on his face is one of his more expressive looks, eyes slightly widened. He had stopped his onslaught of blows right before he could fully stab through you, but with the speed he had thrust the dagger, he had still hit you anyway. Your eyes follow his own, looking down at your appendage.

The adrenaline must've distracted you from the pain, as when you look the wound finally starts to act up, a mixture of grunts and curses escaping your mouth from the affliction.

His immediate reaction is to set you back down on the seat you originally were sat on. It doesn't take too long for the hole in his chest to start regenerating. The way his nerves and flesh reattach is mesmerizing, but your trance is broken the moment you remember it's in fact a part of the body's bloody system, which is… kinda gross.

Your arms are now coated a deep crimson, specks of blood dripping down the sides. It is horrendously grotesque, but it's not a sight you haven't seen before. The man in front of you takes your injured hand and looks at it.

“[Name].” That is all that leaves his lips, before he unwraps the bandage on his own body and transfers it to your own. He would've given you fresh ones had he had any on hand, but he doesn't. Besides, you need them more than he does. He wraps them around your hand, in a soft manner, one unbefitting of someone with his persona.

When your vision starts to unfocus he calls out to you again. But that's all, only saying your name when you begin to gaze off in your mind. When he finishes tying your wound up he says your name one last time, this time following it up with something.

“This may have been worse than you staining your hands with another's blood.”

…?

“You said you didn't want me to kill, so that counts you too doesn't it…?”

“No. If anything, my blood is the only ones who you should touch.” Ah, now you understand. He said it a bunch of times, but you were just too dazed to realize the real meaning as he was essentially murdering himself with your own body.

Seems he’s spent most of his immortal life in pain to remember what a kind touch was. Weirdly enough, this act of self harm is both possessive and “loving”, if you could call it that.

Possessive in that, the thought of anyone else's blood on your hands, or even worse, your touch, on another person's skin, would make his mara bubble up in such a hideous way neither Kafkas spirit whisperer nor your presence could calm it down.

But kind in the aspect that he could never fathom the thought of you turning into him. Him… He hates the thought of any sufferings you could face in the future. Even though it's selfish of him to even hope for something from you, his sick affliction that Kafka would tease him for, “love”, he cant help but feel personally inclined to redirect any misfortunes that come your way to his own soul.

The lights flicker as you stare at him, being sat down made it so he would have to position himself to lean down. You’re sure that if you had been calmer you would’ve noticed his soften voice.

The feeling of his mara begins to still. His hand takes your covered hands and places it on his chest, his other appendage taking your free palm and putting it on his cheek.

The tear in his clothes from the previous assault remains, the sensation of your fingertips touching his skin making you shiver. The faint feeling of a beating heart is felt, this fact visibly upsetting the man.

“No matter how many times you murdered me, it wouldn’t have changed anything. This accursed body will rebuild itself. I don’t need it. So have it.”

“Huh…? What are you saying… Do you always have to speak so cryptically—“

“Take me, as much as you need. All of it if you have to.” The grip on your hands tightens, enough to keep you in place, but not to the point of harm— he would never.

Your hand stings a bit, a wince escaping your mouth. It makes him let go of you, as he presumes the taller position, no longer leaning down to see eye to eye at you. The still you sit on squeaks as you uncomfortably shift in it. His eyes close themself as he returns to the pose he first was from the start, leaning on the table next to you.

…

“I’ll leave the… ‘sinning’, to you than.” After this little quarrel, perhaps proving your worth is not as fulfilling as you once thought.

He doesn’t give you an answer, only replying with a deep “mm”.

“Oh? Did I interrupt something?” An all too familiar woman walks into the room, her eyes glancing all around the bloodstained room. She doesn’t even acknowledge the bodies laid on the floor, her heels clicking as she steps over them like they’re not there.

Neither of you say anything, leaving Kafka to stare and imagine what had happened. Or maybe not, she probably already knew what happened but wanted to hear one of you admit it yourself.

“Hm, fine, it doesn’t matter, Elio needs us to leave, the script says the IPC will be arriving on this planet soon.” She doesn’t waste anytime turning heel and walking out again. Typically, when it’s just her and Blade he’ll silently trail behind her, like a second shadow.

But you can feel the way his eyes burn holes into your body, waiting for you to be the one to get up and follow. Your eyes dart towards him for a second but return back to the doorway, lifting yourself up, the injuries hand you possess tingling from the movement.

It’s only when you're close to being out of view that he moves, his silent steps being quick as he immediately catches up to your fleeting form. Seems when you’re involved he’s more insistent on being your shadow than his own. His methods of becoming one with you aren’t sane, but surely enough it’s all he has to give you, so he’ll make you have it all.

———

Ever since I made that thought I had this cooking up in my drafts and I finally have it finished

[tarjapearce]

Mi Dulce Cereza (Pt. 7)

Ranchero! Miguel O'Hara x Reader

WARNINGS: Telenovela coded drama, emotional distress, Strained Relationships, unexpected visits, mild angst, relationship building, fluff towards the end, Miguel being a softie for his wife.

Summary: Even in darkest times, love shines through.

A/N: Hope you like it :') .

Intro:

"It's your fault." Rosaura's venomous tone didn't go unnoticed by her husband.

"My fault?! I did nothing but raise her well in the Lord's path. I didn't spoil her. If anyone here is at fault is you."

William's voice was ever serene, but his words were vitriolic.

"Me?! How dare you say such things!"

Once back home with empty hands there was nothing but more chaos. Blame turned into a hot potato game of who was the culprit of your apparent rebellious phase. Neither of them wanted to assume that none other than unrealistic and absurd expectations from them towards you had been the spark that started your emancipation fire.

A fire that was shining too brightly for their likings, consuming everything they had known and had taught you. Appearances were unable to be kept any further as your mother was confronted by her friends. Asking her if the rumors of you eloping with the farmer boy were true. It would be always a:

"That wicked man manipulated my daughter. We are trying to get her back, but his lies are convincing enough to keep her by his side."

or a "I'm sure he has her against her will, my little dove would never run away like that. I know her!"

But never a truthful He got her pregnant, claims to love her and now they live in their own home away from this mess trying to live honestly.

The rumors of you getting pregnant had made them another mirror to the single youngsters in town . Rosaura could hear the people talking ill about you and them. How they didn't work hard enough to keep you on check, how they never were firmer and stricter in your upbringing, and how they had been too stupid to actually let the devil in their own home and corrupt you.

It was enough shame to convince her husband and start looking for you. She had been embarrassed enough thanks to your naive games of love. And Miguel.

Her mouth scowled in disgust, heart heavy with resent. He would definitely pay. How dared he to lay his sinful eyes on you? How dared he to lay with you? Even worse, How dared he to take you for himself, impregnated you and call you his wife?

Bold and stupid.

Miguel had ruined her plan of getting you married off to a rich and wonderful man named Sergei Kravinoff. One of the best foreign clients the estate had. He was an avid hunter and collector, that upon seeing your picture was delighted and charmed.

But how was she to explain to him that her only daughter had ran off with the farmer boy? And was now pregnant with his child?

"If you wouldn't pester her with so many dating prospects maybe this... whole mess would have been avoided and she'd be under our roof. Following our rules!"

"Would you shut up?! You let that lowlife to intimidate you. I don't care if he's build like a tree. I want him down, chopped off from the root from her life."

"He's clearly done something to her. Did you see her yelling at us? I'd never seen her like that."

"Hormones make you stupid. And pregnancy hormones make it even worse"

"Just like you when you were pregnant of her. At least he will suffer a little more with that. Once she reaches the second trimester-"

"No no. that's where you're wrong. I won't let her to ruin her life. Sergei wants her!"

"I will have to stop you there, Rosaura. A child life is sacred. Innocent."

"Oh, the wretched child you're always complaining about is now an innocent life?"

"Don't tempt my ire, woman. I know you despise the man. And as much as this situation angers us, that's going too far. That's her punishment for giving in temptation. Let her bear with it."

"You're such an hypocrite. Do you know who Sergei is?"

"I do. Nor care. All I want is my daughter back. There are other ways to break them apart."

"What are you thinking?"

"Confronting them only brings them closer. I fell for her lie of loving him for a minute, but I know it's fear speaking for her. We'll let them be for now."

"No!-"

"And just when they think they are safe, it will be the time for us to step in. Let them have a little sense of security. I'll allow them to finish the place."

"You are waiting too long!"

"Rosaura. Enough. I know what I am doing. I know you hate waiting. But it will be worth it. I know so. Can't let the man that embarrassed me and my family, and tarnished my reputation to go unscathed with my daughter."

"You better keep your promises, William. I hate being lied to."

------

Miguel could barely get a glimpse of sleep during the night. Just when he thought his body would actually give in to the somnolence, he'd startle and remain awake. Pushing the sleepyness away as his mind raced with the many insidious thoughts about last night.

How had your parents found you? With their influence he was sure that they've got the address, they were known through the whole county by their horses business mainly, church was a secondary feat.

His hand ran through his messy hair. You had been put to sleep by Victoria, something he was thankful for. He was no baby expert but it was a commonly known fact that too much stress led up to bad things, and the least he wanted was something else happening. Specially to you or his child.

What had he gotten himself into, this time? He knew your parents were difficult, but this was something completely different from what he expected. He was not only dealing with them, but their direct threats as well.

Not that he wasn't regretting everything that had happened between you two. Had he been too rushed into marrying you? Of course not. He also didn't marry you because you'd be the future mother of his child. He had snatched you away for himself because he loved you. He loved you to bits and pieces and as a whole.

You were too much of a woman to be married to someone else that would treat you badly and wouldn't take his time to actually get to know you. You were too much for the rest of men that never made a step further in their conquer and we're satisfied with little, such as little glances or smiles from you.

He was ambitious, and had wanted it all. He went through so much to get you, still was. But knowing you loved him and even stood your ground against your parents, one of the reasons of his ongoing headache, made it all worth it.

He couldn't quite explain it. At first it was mere lust his body was filled with upon meeting you. The need to corrupt you had proven extremely difficult for him to keep himself at bay. That's why he was always so tempting, so forbidden, so inviting to give in around you.

But you were too sweet and pure. Always being concerned about him, ever attentive and gentle. A stark contrast with his demeanor. He had taken the job since his place needed renovations once and for all. He owed that to himself. He owed that to his old man. Vicky's late husband.

And then he had met you, for real. At first he thought of you another gorgeous spoiled, and dumb city girl if he was honest, but as time kept on passing, he was proven wrong in so many ways he felt the need to apologize to you as soon as you'd wake up later.

You were smart, not a genius but smart enough to be a fast learner and help your father with the finances, heavenly cooking skills and so eager to be more than a bimbo wife, a life most of your old friends had settled for. You had gone to college, just like him. You cared for those around you even if that meant to face your mother, just like him. You both were so alike in so many ways it'd be foolish to let you go.

What got him grovelling at your feet was your innocence and your will to make something out of your life even if your parents sabotaged you. The strength in you, the perseverance and hard work you had shown him even to this very day was the deal maker. And soon enough you'd make him a father.

You weren't only making his most precious dream come true, but were in tandem helping in making your love nest.

Investing all of your energies in building your forever home. Your own sanctuary and safe place with him.

And now it was his time to protect you, to stood his ground like you had done for him.

The room was filled with a warm and golden orange and yellow hues, basking the place in a gentle light, as if the universe was telling him 'Everything will be fine'. A hopeful thought to his already rattled mind. He was exhausted.

Exhausted of hiding and running away only to be harassed later. But that wouldn't stop him from working, no. There was still so much left to do around the hacienda.

With a deep breath he looked your way. A small tug on his heart sent a painful stab kn his chest at your expression. Frowning brows, hands clutched to the sheets and pillows, probably pretending it was him and puffy eyes that served as proof of your cries last night.

Your rage was something else. It made his tired smile to soften into a more admiring one. He hoped to never face it, cause he was sure he'd be on his knees, asking for forgiveness if you wished, even if it was over something so silly and irrelevant.

With a soft croak, you stirred and he embraced you gently. You were scared and asking for him last night, something he regretted to not have fulfilled sooner. But you and his child's safety was the main priority.

He'd have to talk to Joseph and Paco about new rounds done through the day. He couldn't install the safety cameras yet cause his area would take a lot to cover and it wasn't finished yet. If only he'd have some sort of superpower to make everything faster.

But the only power he had right now was to provide comfort to your heart and head. He'd die before something happening to you.

A mental slap came to his mind upon such though. If he died there was none else to look after you.

Even his mind needed a break. Birds chirped merrily, announcing the six am. But his body felt heavier and more sluggish than usual, his mind unclear as a fog came over his thoughts. He wasn't used to pull all-nighters. You turned on your side and curled in his chest, finally taking a hold of him. Eyes fluttered open, relief etched to your features.

Your arms embraced him so desperate it quickly had your eyes all glossy and teary again.

"Hey..." He mumbled with a lip tight smile.

You sobbed in his cradling arms.

"I'm so sorry, Miguel."

A gentle shhh came from him. His calloused fingers ventured through the strands of your hair, caressing with such care he'd thought you'd break.

"Why are you apologizing, cariño?"

"For everything that happened last night. You don't deserve this."

"Last night wasn't good for anyone, you specially, mi amor. But you are safe here. "

"It's not about that... I'm... scared. My father knows where we live now. And he could-"

"Cerecita, mi reina. Look." He sat on the bed and took a hold of your hand, to then kiss softly at the back of your palm, "Your father can make all the threats he wants, hell... He can even tear this place down if he wants to, but he won't take me away from you."

Your hand trembled in between his. You wanted to sit, but he laid back again, draping the sheets closer to you, making sure you were warm. Like a cocoon in his arms.

"It's not about that. You don't understand Miguel. My father is a man of word-."

"So am I." His fingers grazed your cheek softly, "I promised you that we'd be happy. And we will. I don't know how and I know it's scary for us, but as long as we are together, we will."

"I don't want you to get hurt. I... I couldn't stand something happening to you just cause my parents are too petty to acknowledge I married you."

"The only thing that would kill me? Is you leaving through that door and never come back. "

The sheer thoughts brought tears to your eyes. Hormones had also woken up to make a riot on your mind.

"Don't say that, please."

He kissed the top of your head and stared down at you.

"I know this is far from over, and trouble might keep coming. The only thing I am asking from you, is to stay strong. Can you do that for me, preciosa?"

"I can try"

"Good. That's all I'm asking, really. If you're strong, I'm strong."

You gave another silent sob while he peppered your face in gentle kisses. Soothing your worries away.

But he was scared too. Not a childish sort of fear, but something deeper. He knew that your parents were dense, if not denser than water itself. And would try things to keep you on edge, or worse try and mess with his estate.

Fear tactics won't make him lower his head and coward. Not when his pregnant wife was next to him crying, stressing and feeling guilty. Your fingers however traced his face gently, his tired lids drooped, as his eyes stared at you, curious yet fearful.

"Did you get some sleep?"

He chuckled bashfully, "I look that rundown?"

"No. But you do look tired. You're not used to stay up past twelve."

A tired and airy chuckle flared out his nose, his fingers took yours to then kiss the knuckles.

"I know."

Sleepiness had weighed him down completely, body made out of lead and muscles sore. Begging him to catch a break and sleep.

"You'll get grumpy" your hand slipped away from his and went to his face again, caressing and holding onto him. Grounding his wandering thoughts towards you. Anchoring himself in your loving and preocuppied stare.

"You need sleep. I'm sure Vicky will understand. Please?"

"Can't say no to you."

Doting arms embraced his neck, pulling him closer to your chest, it was your turn to protect him. He was always making sure you had everything, that you were alright. A giver by nature.

Just like you. This time you assured he'd cuddle in your chest, sharp cheeks rested on your mounds, ear pressed against you; allowing the steady beats of your heart lull him to sleep while you played with his hair.

Vicky didn't knock the door to awake you.

-----

You both awoke around 11 am, past breakfast. Vicky had instructed the construction workers where to keep building, guiding them in Miguel's absence. Victoria knew the plans her son had, so it was relatively easy to give orders. Some days more and the barn would be completely ready to then move to fencing properly the land.

It was a bit more money, but after much thought, a vynil fencing would be perfect. It not only offered privacy, but the chances of someone sneaking in would be less than 0, unless you knew the property like the back of one's hand.

To your dismay you had only seen the first part of it. If Miguel wished, he could start selling his own produce in the farmer's market. But right now, the soil was covered in weeds, and other invasive plants and thickets. It would be the final part of the renovations.

Vicky knocked the door, Miguel opened to reveal his mother with trays of food and some tea for you. She had heard the retching from the outside door. Stress was making your morning sickness worse and having an empty stomach didn't help either.

"Got you some things that will help you, and you too."

Vicky beckoned Miguel to help her, The little coffee table inside the room was used as support, brunch was served.

"Thank you Vicky" She patted your shoulder gently, as she served some flowery smelling tea.

"Don't you worry about it. You're making me a grandma soon."

The sweet smell and taste of the steamy liquid made your stomach settle gradually. Then you started eating with ferocious appetite. Miguel had his big cup of coffee, and ate as well, but his appetite was little.

Vicky smacked the back of his shoulder softly.

"Deja de preocuparte y come." (Stop over thinking and eat.)

Your hand slid into his and squeezed.

"Miguel?"

"Hm?"

"I'm scared too. But I also know that having us demoralized and afraid won't do good for us."

He pulled you closer and kissed your head for the umpteenth time, comfort and love were words you could use if you'd get asked what his hugs felt like. Despite his rough and cold demeanor he was one of the sweetest and gentle man you had ever encounter, even if his actions spoke volumes for him.

His head remained out of his hat, the piece had suffocated him enough through a good chunk of the previous night.

"That's exactly what those cabrones want. No offense, dear"

You chuckled and shook your head.

"Vicky is right. Whatever comes, we will face it together. As a family."

His eyes softened as you placed his hand on your belly.

"One day I'm sure this will be one of those stories you'll tell your kids when they get older and wanna know about family drama"

Miguel couldn't help but snort at Vicky's insinuation. But deep down he felt grateful. Thankful enough that two of the most important people in his life were reassuring him. His devoted and short tempered mother, a crucial part of his heart and now you and his growing child. All around him, promising they'd all be fine.

He needed to believe it. This wasn't one of the moments he was allowed to flank. He needed himself strong, steady with his head high. Ever vigilant and ready to face everything that came his way. He was an O'Hara. And O'Hara's endured.

That was his own mantra, bestowed and honored by previous generations.

The brunch and Victoria's presence had helped you both to ease the rising nerves and the subtle anxiety that undermined your head with unhealthy and raucous thoughts. Instead, even if a temporary distraction, work in the estate kept going. After all, it would take so much more than just a threat to break your spirits.

---

Miguel had tended to the barn and foresaw the fencing advance. Construction materials would be brought over the weekend to immediately start making his private property even more secluded, away from prying eyes and anyone stupid enough that tried to venture within the hacienda.

And after yesterday's fiasco, Miguel had come up with a new plan about security rounds until the fencing started. Just as he was about to explain, Joseph called him, a bit concern etched into his face.

"What now?"

"It's not the people from yesterday, but they claim to know your wife, Boss."

"How many of them are there?"

"Just three. Two women and a man."

He nodded and put his hand on his neck, trying to ease the tension that refused to leave his body despite the many attempts of cheering his spirits up.

"Where's my Cerecita?"

"Uh, with Vicky in the orchard."

"Right. Stay here in case there's trouble."

Joseph nodded and stood his ground, as he watched Miguel leaving.

Who would be this time? He wasn't armed this time, so whoever that had ill intentions with him would have to face the might of his fists.

But the silent threat remained as nothing but that. The only noises around were him, the gravel crunching underneath his boots, the subtle wind that played tag between the trees, little birds here and there and finally, the voices of people he knew, but didn't remember their names or faces .

A cool gust of wind threatened his hat to be blown off his head, but he secured it with a hand. Upon arriving, his surprise couldn't be hidden.

The two ladies were the one that helped you pack and were deeply saddened at your leaving. He always saw them around you, laughing and sharing whenever your mother wasn't around to shoo them away from you. And the man, one of the helpers back at your parent's barn.

"Mr. O'Hara? Im really sorry to bother, and showing up like this after what happened."

One of the women spoke. Miguel was cautious, and so far his intentions of opening the door didn't ring a bell on him. For all he knew your parents could have sent them to spy you.

"We quit. That Rosaura lady slapped my sister and it was enough for us. We were planning on leaving the estate even before the Miss left with ya."

But that definitely sounded something his beloved mother in law would do.

"I know you have zero reasons to believe us, but trust us. None back at the estate really liked the missus's parents either. We could only hold up for so long before everything came down. But we needed the jobs."

"I understand." With a sigh, Miguel opened the door and allowed them in.

A little rounds of thank yous echoed behind him before he guided them back at the main estate.

"Will you let us stay? Just for the night of course. "

"You'll have to talk to La Patrona." (The boss)

He chuckled upon you coming to his mind, "My wife I mean."

A little of hushed yet excited whispers trailed him along some 'I told you!' 'She did it!'.

The reunion was loud as he had expected. Loaded of hugs, heartfelt congratulations and of course them rubbing your belly.

Mary, the big sister was two years older than you, she had been one of the few that approached you with genuine friendship back at home, her sister, Susan was your age, even though she was on the quieter side, she was disciplined enough to keep herself busy and out of trouble. Always doing something. However her eyes kept wandering to Joseph.

They had asked your permission to stay overnight before returning to their hometown the next day. Of course you agreed.

They helped you to prepare everything, letting Vicky to rest for a bit. Even though they had spark, Vicky observed them with hard eyes, trying to decipher their true intentions. And so far she had found nothing. Not even in the man that quickly established a conversation between Paco and Joseph.

And soon all of you sat down at the table that seemed smaller.

"Like I was telling Mr. O'Hara, you mother was livid after you left."

"She was like a child throwing a tantrum, telling Pastor William to do something"

"Yeah, that's sounds like mom" An awkward smile came to your face as they spoke.

"But after last night, it was enough for us. She slapped Susan in the face when she got her the wrong dress."

Vicky couldn't hold back her gasp and contempt

"Dios mío, esa mujer ha enloquecido" (My God, that woman has gone mad)

"I'm really sorry it had to come to this point."

"Ya can't blame yourself, darlin" Mary spoke, letting her southern accent shine through for a second, "Ever since ya left people have been leaving, only to be replaced within some days."

"No wonder why they came in so pissed" You mumbled with a little giggle.

"How's... Agustín?"

Their faces fell and the man, his old helper James spoke.

"Pastor sold him to a guy. Joaquín is kinda sick and Luis, is the only one they actually pay attention to. You know, Joaquín is old so..."

Miguel could only nod with a saddened yet expected smile. It was a matter of time for Agustín to be sold.

"Do you know by chance who he got sold off to?"

"Some russian named Kravi- Uh... Kravinoff?"

"I see." Miguel’s shoulder slumped for a moment. At least he wasn't sent off to the meat market, "Hopefully that man knows how to treat him."

"He seems into animals a bit too much, sir. A bit eccentric with his fur coats. But apparently the man is a collector and the missus's parents best client."

Of course. Agustín was a purebred friesian stallion after all. His worth was over 20k.

You slid a hand on Miguel's thigh comfortingly. His subtle blue mood contagious. A lot of details you both were missing were spilled in the table.

Even though Miguel wasn't one for gossips, hearing your parents struggling to keep the appearances had definitely put a smile on his face. It served them right after all the unhinged things they had done. But he didn't let go that easy the fact that from all the horses remaining, Luis was the only one that was being properly taken care of.

Your horse.

A little hope shone in his darkened by fears heart. He didn't care if he was called a dreamer, but sometimes he pondered how would be his relationship with your parents would've been if they had a completely reaction to him.

Would they tolerate him? Would they be excited for being grandparents? Would they be happy for you instead of being petty and spiteful about it? He didn't know.

And he was tired of thinking over and over. Vicky's words remained closer to his heart.

If isn't your stubbornness, it's your love that will convince them.

But that was a very distant and utopian thought. All that mattered in his present was you and his new growing family.

The guest cabin was taken by the ladies and James joined Paco and Joseph.

Vicky drew you a warm bath to ease the remaining tension off your body. Miguel had been watching you. The changes in your body suited beautifully. Plump breasts, hips and thighs, gorgeous sudsy skin that had some flower petals adhered to it, enhancing it's beauty. You were the purest form of art before his eyes. The mother of his children. His wife.

He marvelled at the way you smiled upon rubbing your belly. The illusion of being a mother surely took you by surprise, but with Miguel's reassurance, you were excited even to meet your child. The ultimate physical form of love between you two.

Puppy and rusty brown eyes fixed on you as you let your hair down, letting the strands to cover your back to wash them next.

He stepped in. With a kiss on your temple and a bashful smile he sat behind you.

"Mira nomás qué chulada." (Look at that, so beautiful)

He pried gently the shampoo bottle off your hands and poured some on his hands to then lather your scalp with it. The lovely smell of cherries wafted in the air as foam appeared in your head while he massaged your scalp adoringly.

You hummed in approval at the careful and soft movements of his fingers. Inducing a relaxed state over you.

"Miguel?"

"Yes, Cerecita?" His voice matching his fingers.

"I don't ever regret marrying you."

His fingers faltered for a moment before resuming his washing. It was as if the doubts on his heart had secretly found a way to your ears and you were now reassuring him.

"You've the best thing that has shown up into that old house. Still are."

"Gotta be thankful to your parents for creating you, preciosa. Unbearable as they are"

The both of you chuckled, ignoring the looming dark skies that blended within the night's mantle.

"I'll take in Mary and Susan. I'm sure they'd be wonderful help around here."

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. I will pay them of my own money I've saved. So don't worry"

"No, no, let me take them in."

"Miguel, all of these renovations are coming off your pocket. We are a team now, I know somehow it will work out. Let me help you."

He accepted his defeat with a little slump in his shoulders and lazy smile.

"Alright, as you wish, mi corazón."

"What do you love the most about me?"

His hands took the bathtub's head shower and rinsed your hair. Water splashing on his skin, like the sudden question.

"Your bravery, empathy towards others and loyalty. And you're drop dead gorgeous too."

Your cheeks warmed up with a little flush on them as he spoke.

"What about you, Cerecita? What does my wife loves about me?"

"Since you snatched the words off my mouth, I'd say loyalty, honesty and resilience." You took his hands in yours, weaving your fingers between his and smiled, "Many would've given up on me at this point because of my parents but..."

Another kiss, "Hearing you calling me your wife makes me all happy and the good kind of dumb. I know we won't have good days, or that we will be far from perfect but, You've taught me so much about myself is wonderful. "

His hands secured yours as another kiss on your temple was given.

"Thanks for not giving up on me, Miguel."

"Thanks for being my wife, Cerecita."

Your smile disarmed him. And that night your wish of being asleep in his arms came true. There was no horrors that lurked in the shadows.

[thera-daydreams]

SCARLET & SHADOW

ᱬ The Darkling x Scarlet Witch!Reader ᱬ

[aleksander morozova x wanda maximoff!reader]

Warning: This will be very canon-divergent, considering that it will be a fix-it fic for the Darkling's story. Will contain elements of violence, manipulation, and gore present in the series. Plus, mentions of depression, trauma, regret (as W. Maximoff) and the inclusion of possible adult themes in the later chapters.

Majority of this will also be based on the Netflix show since I haven't read the entire books yet. There may be inaccuracies and a whole lot of changes. You have been warned!

Otherwise, proceed and enjoy! ♟️🌹

(Sidenote: So... okay. I'm deciding to write this and make it a formal fanfic—as per previous post one and post two—because I seriously cannot sleep with the overwhelming inspiration I'm getting from shipping these two characters. Aleksander and Wanda are practically the same person in different fonts. They both did shitty, selfish things but I need to give them a happy ending. Together. Somehow. And hate it or love it, I firmly believe this idea should be shared to the world. If you know my other JJK fic, you'll know Wanda is an obsession of mine. Also, also, also! Please bear with me if updates are scarce. I'm juggling my academic review, work, another unfinished fic, and my daily fangirling. 🥹)

1. once upon a dream

Aleksander had dreams of you long before he even knew you. Maybe it was the stress of this neverending war. Either way, you weren't real anyway... were you?

(3.9k words)

2. coincidence

The Black General finds himself magnetized by the seemingly inconspicuous gardener in the Little Palace. He gets to know you, contemplating life. Just when he thought you were just a strangely wise, young otkazat'sya woman, he finds out why exactly you decided to work in the Little Palace.

(2.5k words)

3. reflection

You are confronted by a certain Shadow Summoner about your motives in bringing the kids to the Little Palace. He realizes that you've loved and lost so deeply, eerily the same as he had. Perhaps that's the reason why he was so drawn to you; he could see his reflection in your eyes. But the more answers the Darkling got, the more questions he had. Unfortunately for you, Aleksander was a patient and persistent man who would stop at nothing to get what he wants.

(4.8k words)

4. haunted

You were no powerless otkazat’sya, Aleksander finds out the hard way. He’s pushed you too far, and he’s left to deal with the aftermath of the new knowledge he half-regrets he gained. On the other hand, you see something bad about this new world that wished you had never seen.

(6.0k words)

5. ?

(tba)

... more chapters?

Synopsis:

"No more magic." You swore to yourself after the madness that you'd spiraled into; the chaos you'd wrecked upon the Multiverse under the influence of the Darkhold. Now, you had destroyed the Darkhold in every universe.

The last universe that had a Darkhold? Safe. Book of the Damned, gone. It was a land with no heroes, gods, or sorcerers... just... normal people and... Grisha? Either way, it was time for your atonement. Your repentance for your mortal sins.

But when you save and bring three orphaned Grisha children to the Little Palace, working as an otkazat'sya gardener to secretly keep an eye on them, it turns out that a certain Shadow Summoner begins to have his eye on you, instead.

taglist: @idohknow @robertthehoover @the-desilittle-bird @pearlstiare

[dreamcubed]

guilty as sin? | tom riddle x reader

song; guilty as sin? [taylor swift] pairing; mattheo's brother!tom riddle x fem!reader genre; f2l, best friend's brother, (not so) unrequited love, angst, hurt comfort, smut word count; 3,7k timeline; subsidiary eighth year warnings; swearing, pining, references to war, references to tom and mattheo's childhood trauma, unprotected sex, piv, fingering, nightmares, wet dreams summary; your uncontrollable feelings for the brother of your best friend, mattheo, led you to feeling incredibly guilty— even though you had never even touched tom's skin

masterlist

"what if he's written 'mine' on my upper thigh only in my mind?"

MINORS DNI! 18+ content.

———————————————

The roaring waves of emotion tucked neatly into your soul hadn't always been around— well, that was obvious, you weren't born with them. Never would you have felt such passion as a newborn only caring for your mother's touch. Not even did the infatuation transpire when Mattheo first introduced you to his elder brother, Tom, back in first year. He was a year older, but he had still been but twelve, and nothing but an awkward prepubescent boy. Salazar, that had changed.

It must have been fourth— or maybe fifth— year when the first ripple of a wave emerged, looking upon Tom sat reading in the Malfoy Manor library one Christmas when Mattheo had invited you over. The cascading glow of light from the fireplace warmed his cold features, and you realised that he was growing into a man: a gorgeously enchanting man. He was nothing like his brother in manner. Where Mattheo was wild, rambunctious, and dirty, Tom was calm, organised and ever-polite. Their similarities were restricted to three things: their last name, their intelligence, and their looks. Even so, the slight difference in features cemented itself as the slight difference in your type.

Mattheo was like your brother, but Tom had never seemed like anything remotely close to that, despite how you came to know him more as the years went by. To him, though, you were probably like an annoying younger sister— the friend of his younger brother's who was always irritating and made said brother twice as unbearable.

You resolved to your dreams and fantasies of Tom, occasionally attempting to date others and feeling guilty the entire time because all you could do was think of another man. A man who had never even kissed you, never once brushed against your skin, never flirted or been anything more than polite. And, the worst part was Mattheo.

The last thing you wanted to do was betray him, make him feel like you preferred his brother over him— the person who had been there for you at your worst and made you feel your best. Guilt consumed every vein in your body, forcing you to seal away the sea storm safely into your soul. But as the waves grew stronger, the dam grew weaker. One of these days, you would crack, and you had no idea how such a scene would play out.

It was your last year of Hogwarts now: a subsidiary eighth year for which you had elected to return. Upon the demise of their father, Tom and Mattheo had moved out of the Malfoys and into Riddle Manor, where they were grateful to know that their father had never lived. Mattheo had come back with you to Hogwarts, but Tom already had his NEWTs, and was settling into a new job at the Ministry. In the blink of an eye, everything had changed.

But one thing stayed the same: Tom getting more goddamn gorgeous every year.

Christmas came both too quickly and too slowly, with you and Mattheo packing your bags to return to your homes for the season. Like usual, you laughed and bickered on the train, but your lingering guilt was heightened on that particular day. Just the night before, you had experienced one of the most vivid dreams that you had ever had about Tom, resulting in you waking up sweating and with a pool of heat between your thighs. You felt awful, almost crying when you realised, which hadn't gone unnoticed by Pansy.

"What's wrong, babe?" she had asked, looking over from the vanity where she applied her makeup.

"I did a bad thing in my dream," you mumbled.

"Don't stress," she said calmly, "There's no such thing as bad thoughts— only your actions talk."

Her words were currently the only thing keeping you from breaking down in front of Mattheo: your best friend should be the only one to know your biggest secret, yet he was the one person you couldn't tell. Well, perhaps that was a lie— the one person you couldn't under any circumstances tell was Tom.

For all you knew, Mattheo would take the news well. You just didn't want to risk it. Not when there was so much at stake.

"I'll owl you, okay?" he said when you parted ways at the train station, "Make sure to come visit."

"I will," you smiled, "See you, dickhead."

He grinned.

Salazar.

***

The cool air from your open window curled around your skin in a delicious sensation, contrasting perfectly with the warmth of the man above you. You heard a chuckle escape his lips as he delicately pushed up the hem of your large sleep shirt and let his fingers brush against your thigh.

"You're so pretty," he murmured, leaning down to kiss you, engulfing you in a magical feeling.

His thumb moved softly against your thigh, tracing something that you couldn't make out.

"Mine."

***

It was still dark out when you jolted awake, the fresh imagery of your dream washing over you and forcing you to sob. The tears poured uncontrollably as the ache in your heart seared: the ache of loving someone who you could never have so deeply, so unconditionally. How had you managed to break your own heart?

Maybe it was the late night hysteria, or maybe it was the consequence of years of pent up feelings, but you decided there and then that you had to tell Mattheo. He had to know— he deserved to know. So, before you could change your mind, you forced yourself out of bed, still in a fit of tears, and pulled on joggers. In a flash, you had apparated outside Riddle Manor, a grand yet gloomy building that screamed status and power.

An ugly sob wretched its way out of your throat as you approached the door, reaching a shaky hand up to rap three firm times. You hadn't checked the time, but Mattheo was always up late, with a body clock so dysfunctional it put the government to shame.

"Y/N?" a voice said curiously as the door swung open, revealing the man who had inadvertently caused you all these problems, "Are you okay?"

That question was the gateway for more tears to flood out of your blurry eyes, and you damn near stumbled into the house when Tom stepped aside to allow entry.

"Where's—" you sobbed, "—Mattheo?"

"He's... pre-occupied," Tom said carefully, and that was when you noticed the sound of loud moaning coming from upstairs through the ringing in your ears.

You sank on to the floor as your body violently jerked with the waves of your upset.

"I've told him a million times to use a silencing charm," he sighed, "I'll be right back."

In the time he was gone, the moans ceased to nothing, and you knew it wasn't because Tom had gone in and told Mattheo to stop. That was the last situation he would want to interact with his brother in, and you felt the same.

"Get up off the floor, come through to the living room," Tom said delicately, helping you up and guiding you out of the entrance hall, "I'll get you some tea, okay?"

You kicked off your shoes and curled up on the sofa as he prepared your drink, trying to silence your horrific sounds which only caused your body to shake harder.

"Here you are," he returned, placing a tea tray on the coffee table and sitting opposite you, "I know we're not as close as you and Mattheo, but you can talk to me."

Shaking your head hurriedly, you mumbled, "Can't."

"I won't judge you, Y/N."

"You don't get it," you choked out, "It's because of you."

Tom stilled, evidently trying to process your sudden outburst that had shocked even you, "I'm sorry, have I hurt you in some way? It wasn't intentional."

You covered your face with your hands, feeling the sticky warmth on your cheeks and moisture in your eye ducts. "You haven't done anything," you finally said, "It's me. It's my fault."

"I'm not following."

"No one knows," you bravely tried to meet his eyes, "No one can ever know."

With a deep sigh, he stood up and moved to sit next to you, tentatively wrapping an arm around you so as to pull you into his embrace. Never had a nice gesture been so excruciating for you: everything from his scent to his kindness was all you had ever wanted, but not like this. Still, you let yourself unfold in his arms, grasping on to the material of his jumper and burying your face in his chest.

He held you for a minute or two of painful bliss, until you cautiously pulled back, wanting to create some distance. When his forefinger pressed under your chin and forced your eyes up to meet his, you felt your barriers dissolve. What should have been a willing feeling, wasn't, as you felt your mind and innermost thoughts lay bare for Tom to weave through. Every erotic dream, every lingering touch, every discreet glance: it all presented itself to him nicely in a slideshow that was never meant to be seen.

Tom retracted his finger from your face and broke the eye contact, turning away from your horror-struck expression. Violated didn't even begin to cover how you felt— he had no right to pry into your head, and yet you were still grateful that finally the feelings weren't your burden alone to share.

"I see," he said simply, looking straight ahead.

"Don't say anything," you pleaded quietly, "Please."

"To Mattheo?"

"Yes, but—" your breathing stuttered, "Don't say the words of rejection. I can't hear them."

An eyebrow of his quirked as he glanced back at you, but he remained silent.

The moment was interrupted by bodies stumbling loudly down the stairs, and then the sound of the front door opening as voices said their goodbyes. When the door had been shut again, Mattheo appeared in the entrance of the living room with flushed cheeks and a bare chest.

"Y/N! When did you get here?" he then noticed your tear stains, "Oh my Salazar! Are you okay?"

"'M fine," you mumbled, standing up, "Just gonna go home."

Mattheo reluctantly let you leave. The second the door had closed behind you, however, he was cornering his older brother. "What did you say to her?" he spat, anger making him clench his fists.

Tom merely rolled his eyes. "Calm down. She was already crying when she arrived."

His statement made Mattheo back off, as he chewed his lip in thought. "And you comforted her?"

"Since you were otherwise occupied, yes."

"Okay," the younger man relaxed his shoulders, saying a stiff, "Thanks."

"Don't mention it," Tom said sarcastically with a raised an eyebrow, "You might want to have a chat with her, though."

"About what?"

"It's better if you hear it from her."

***

You were a little confused as to why Mattheo had insisted that the two of you go out for drinks the next night, but ultimately you accepted, sitting at a table in a pub with him. The table was characteristically sticky and shiny, with your rum and coke sat on top of it opposite Mattheo's pint.

"What happened last night?" he asked after exchanging pleasantries.

"Oh, nothing," you replied dismissively, "Just a bad dream." Well, it hadn't been bad per se.

"Tom told me I should talk to you."

Your eyes widened, "Did he say about what?"

It was a relief to see Mattheo shake his head, "He said it was better I hear it from you."

A sigh escaped your lips as the reminder that you intended to tell him last night popped up in your brain. To your unpleasantness, you decided that now was as good of a time as any. "Yes. I... suppose it is."

"Tell me," he prompted, "You can trust me with anything, you know that?"

"I... have feelings for Tom."

Mattheo looked dumbfounded.

"Well, that's a lie—" you scrunched your eyebrows, trying to find the words, "I'm... in love with him."

"Have you two been—?"

You cut him off, quickly saying, "No, no! I've never acted on it... it's been years. I tried to suppress the feelings, I swear! But they just get stronger and stronger as time goes on and I feel like I'm going crazy. I feel so guilty— I don't want to betray you!"

As you finished your rambling, Mattheo remained silent, processing the information that you had just provided him.

"I'm sorry," you mumbled.

"You've been in love with my brother for years?"

You nodded your head shamefully.

"And you never acted on it because of me?"

You nodded again.

Mattheo let out a deep sigh, his fingers interlocking with each other as he rested his elbows on the sticky surface. "Does he know?"

"As of last night, yes."

"Does he return your feelings?"

"I told him not to tell me if he does or not."

"You should've told me sooner."

"I know."

"Y/N," he began, running his hand through his hair, "You didn't need my blessing to date him."

Confusion crept up on you, "I just didn't want you to think I chose your brother over you when we've been through everything together."

"Maybe I would've thought that a few years ago," he admitted, "But we're adults now.

Your mind clouded with possibilities of what Mattheo was saying to you.

"You can date who you want. But if he breaks your heart, I will kill him."

You chuckled to yourself, "I don't even know if he reciprocates... but thank you, Teo. You're the best friend anyone could ask for."

He smiled softly at you, "Hey, maybe one day we'll even be related."

***

Receiving Mattheo's blessing had never seemed possible to you, never appeared attainable, so you had never dared to dream what you would do if you did receive it. Thus, you found yourself sat on your bedroom floor, anxiously fidgeting as you attempted to figure out how to approach Tom. He knew you liked him, so you supposed the first step was complete, but how were you meant to actually make a move? What if it was all for nothing? All those years of pining and anticipation boiled down to him feeling nothing towards you.

Had Mattheo told Tom that he was cool with it? Did that mean all you had to do was wait around for Tom to close the distance?

Too many unanswered questions lingered.

You can't remember when you decided to write a letter, as you only snapped out of your daze as you signed your name, staring down at the parchment of love confessions and yearning.

Dearest Tom,

I never thought that the day would come where I would openly be able to confess to you. Mattheo gave me his blessing, but what does that matter if you don't see me the way I see you? But, after all these years of you haunting me so stunningly, I have to do this. With any hope, if it's rejection I face, I will be able to move on.

Don't ask me to pinpoint when I first fell for you, because I don't know. It crept up on me over the years until all I dreamed and thought about was you, even when I was seeing other people. Guilt has been my dominating emotion for so long that I am not used to no longer feeling it. This likely won't come as a shock, as you saw the state I was in the other night when I found the confession wretched from the vault in my heart. Forget about that, please, and consider this the one true confession.

Every sensation in my body is elicited by the thought of you— we've already done it in my head. My imagination, along with every bone in my body, tells me that you have already written "mine" on my upper thigh. Because I am yours, even if you aren't mine. I have always been yours: not Mattheo's, not any of my exes', just yours.

And for that reason, I suspect I am guilty as sin, for the emotional cheating I have involuntarily committed.

Am I allowed to cry?

Yours forever & always, Y/N L/N

You folded it, pressed your wax seal, and gave it to your owl before you could second guess yourself. That was when the rippling waves of anxiety came, forcing you to pace back and forth and wait for some kind of— any kind of— response.

***

It was late at night when a knock sounded on your door, and your heart raced as you guessed who it was coming to pay you a visit. With shaky hands, you delicately padded over to the door and opened it, to see the bane of your existence and owner of your soul stood with furrowed eyebrows.

"Mattheo gave his blessing."

Those were his first words: a statement of a recently established fact that had changed your entire world. You nod hesitantly, frozen in place.

"Your letter," he murmured, making you realise he had the parchment clutched tightly in his hand.

Your eyes locked on to the piece of paper as your grip tightened on the door.

"Well, are you gonna say something?" he asked.

"I've said all I have to say," you mumbled, refusing to meet his gaze.

Tom let out a sigh, stepping closer to you, "You've haunted the back of my mind for years— the figment of an annoying younger brother's best friend, and everything I want to forget."

You gulped, unsure what he was insinuating with his cryptic words.

"But I can't forget you," he sighed, "Not just because of how often I see you, but because you're the culmination of all my highest hopes and darkest desires."

His hands found your hips and settled there comfortably: your skin tingled under his touch, the ripples of his warmth cascading across the ocean of your body.

"I want you," he said quietly, "So badly, it hurts."

As if acting on instinct, your resolve snapped at those words, and you slammed your lips on to his. The dam had broken, and the strong currents of emotion were plummeting forward in a whirlwind of passion.

Tom returned the kiss eagerly, his hands exploring every curve and inch that you had to offer him, and it wasn't long before you were hurrying up the stairs to your bedroom, blinded by lust and love. He pushed you back on to your bed, his mouth moving to graze along your neck, eliciting soft gasps from you. His fingers worked their way under the hem of your nightie, pushing your panties aside and teasing your wet folds. The real thing was so much more electric than any of your dreams and desires: his very presence was igniting a roaring flame within you.

"You're so wet," he murmured, his deft fingers finding your clit.

"All for you," you replied breathlessly, "Always for you."

He expertly worked your core, appearing to know every angle and the exact amount of pressure required, as if his life purpose in sex had been to learn how to best please your body. You moaned as he moved more quickly, working you up to the quickest orgasm you had ever been blessed with.

"Fuck, Tom," you moaned, "Feels so good."

"You like that, darling?" he chuckled, riding you through your high, "We're just getting started, hm?"

When he removed his hand from your cunt, you grabbed his shirt and pulled him into kiss you again, drunk on the sensations he provided you. "Fuck me, Tom," you mumbled, "I need to be one with you."

He laughed darkly, "Since you asked so nicely."

It took way too long for him to unbuckle his trousers and release his dick, despite the fact he did it as quickly as possible, working in a frenzy off of the same desperate craving as you. However, the wait of many heart-aching years became worth it when he entered you for the first time, every curve and vein of his cock moulding your walls perfectly, like you were made for him.

"Oh, my-" you gasped out, writhing when he applied pressure to your clit to make it easier for him to slide all the way in.

"You feel incredible," he groaned, staying still for a few moments, basking in your precious warmth, before slowly beginning to move.

Where Tom normally found himself being a meticulous and calculated person, he instead found himself losing all sense inside of you: his thrusts were sloppy and ragged, drawing sounds out of you that he mirrored with guttural moans. His thumb carelessly pressed over your clit, making you feel as if you were ascending from the mattress. This wasn't fucking— this was love-making. Sensual, sloppy, and passionate.

And so, Tom was near his release quicker than he had ever been, his typical stamina long lost in the haze of you. You were no different, building up to a second release as you felt Tom lose even more control: it wasn't long before he was releasing inside of you as you came once more, panting as he collapsed on top of you.

"Fuck, you're so amazing," he murmured, "How did we hold back all these years?"

You laughed tiredly, "I don't know, but I can't hold back ever again."

He agreed with a hum. "Y/N," he propped himself up on his arms, "I love you. It killed me the other night when you told me not to tell you if I returned your feelings."

"It killed me to say it," you smiled, "I love you too, Tom."

———————————————————

masterlist

written; 23/06/2024 —> 31/07/2024 published; 31/07/2024 edited; —/—/——

[myokk]

before it felt like a sin, ch. 2

ch.1

pairing: Sebastian Sallow x f!MC

word count: 6900

summary: Eloise never wanted to be different.

And yet, her differences are what have defined her life up until this point: growing up as a squib in one of the most prominent wizarding families, being exiled to muggle society, and then attending Hogwarts at the age of sixteen.

She finds herself thrust into the life she should have been prepared for from birth but was denied. As she navigates this new life and her new precarious position in her family, she must come to terms with the fact that maybe what she dreamed of her whole life isn't turning out how she ever expected it would.

a/n: here's chapter 2!! I just wanted to add these amazing beautiful drawings I look back on allllllll the time, by @kay9leo 🥹🫶 I LOVE YOU SO MUCH !!!!! 😙💓😙💓😙💓

I also want to reiterate that this fic is REALLY CANON DIVERGENT!!!!! I will NOT be following the game’s plot at all really with this (it really starts to diverge around chapter 6/7 maybe I don’t remember), and I don’t see Eloise as the game’s MC either.

Things were definitely not going as planned…not that Eloise had really known what to expect. Almost from the moment the portkey had brought her to meet Professor Fig, it seemed like everything had gone from bad to worse.

And it had all started out so well. He had handed her the provisional wand, and upon contact the magic coursing through her had been exhilarating. Finally Eloise was able to experience what she had dreamed of for so long. All too soon, however, she was putting the wand to use in ways she hadn’t imagined. Watching Mr. Ospric die had made her blood run cold but then she didn’t have the luxury of processing the shock as so much was happening at once and there was a dragon and death and then…another portkey? Before she knew it, she was fighting some sort of sentient guardians in some mysterious Gringott’s vault and there was concrete proof of the goblin uprising…it was simply too much to take in at once.

Now, she was standing in front of the ornate entrance to a room Professor Fig had called the “Great Hall”. He checked the pocketwatch inside his robes again, and muttered (more to himself than anything) “hopefully the sorting is still going on…” and then in a louder voice as he glanced at Eloise - “come along then, young Eloise!”

He peered more closely at her then, taking in her pale appearance and added in a kinder tone, “I’m sure you’re hungry. We’ll just head in and get you sorted into your house, and then an early night for the both of us. Don’t worry about the things that were lost in the attack - I’m sure one of your new housemates will share her things with you until they are replaced.”

With that, he pushed open the doors and ushered her in. In any normal circumstances, Eloise was sure that she would have been absolutely in awe of the breathtaking appearance that greeted her. It was simply…for lack of a better word, magical. The ceiling was enchanted to look like the night sky above the castle, stars glimmering through the wispy purple clouds that covered the ceiling. There were thousands of candles floating in the air, illuminating the hall in a soft, golden light.

She couldn’t focus on any of that.

As soon as Fig opened the double doors, the low chatter that filled the Great Hall slowly faded as everyone turned to look at who had entered. Eloise froze. Hundreds of faces all staring at her, filled with curiosity.

Judging her.

They must all know that she was a squib and didn’t actually belong there.

No. She had proved her magical capabilities earlier that day, albeit in a different manner than she had expected. She deserved to be here just as much as they did.

The teacher at the far end of the hall was saying something and the students surrounding her had begun to whisper amongst themselves. There was so much buzzing in her ears that she didn’t hear a word that was said. Then, a familiar voice - how in the world could it still be familiar after so much time? - broke through the fog and her head turned sharply to the side at the noise.

“Eloise?”

Her gaze met familiar hazel eyes as Leo quickly stood up, taking a step towards her before he caught himself and stayed where he was. If the shock hadn’t already been apparent enough in his voice, one look at his expression told Eloise everything. He hadn’t had any idea that she had been accepted to Hogwarts. After she had been burned off of the family tree by her mother, it was like she didn’t exist anymore. Of course he hadn’t known that she would be there.

Leo had changed since Eloise last saw him. Of course he did, she thought to herself. It had been five years, after all. The same unruly black curls, same eyes. And yet…he almost seemed a stranger to her. He was taller, face more angular and defined than it had been at thirteen. Voice deeper. But, the expression of vulnerability and guilt written all over his face was something she recognized well. It was the same expression that he had had the last time he saw her, the face she sometimes saw before falling asleep. Just as quickly as it flashed across his face however, it was gone, hidden behind a stony exterior. His expression hardened and he sat down just as quickly as he had stood up, quickly averting his eyes. The people around him were looking between them curiously, but before Eloise could even begin to process this new situation, she felt a gentle push on her shoulder.

Professor Fig had been talking to her. “…the Sorting Hat. You need to go up and get sorted into your house.”

She looked up at him and realized that he was gesturing to the front of the Great Hall, vaguely recalling how Leo had described the sorting ceremony in his first letter home from Hogwarts. Everyone was still staring.

Well, let them, she thought. Eloise tossed her braid over her shoulder and lifted her head high, straightening her posture in the meantime. Did it matter if everyone was staring at her? She determined that if people were going to be whispering about her, speculating about her, she would give them something to talk about. About the girl who was admitted in her fifth-year at Hogwarts. The girl who surpassed them all.

Eloise shook off Professor Fig’s hand and walked to the raised platform, where there was a stool and a professor waiting with an ancient wizarding hat in her hands. As Eloise sat down, a semicircle of professors behind her and the tables of students in front of her, the hat was placed on top of her head. It was so formless and well-worn that the faded fabric slid over her eyes and she was surrounded by darkness.

Hmm…interesting, a voice purred in her mind. Eloise jumped at the sound. Don’t worry, dear. I won’t hurt you, although I suppose that not everyone would say that. My, my. You have had a rough go of things, haven’t you?

It’s not often I get to sort a new fifth-year student. She realized that it was the hat talking to her. Always much more interesting, you see. The first-years are always fun because I get to see their potential and who they will turn out to be, but even that can be fallible sometimes. People are shaped by their experiences.

An older student, though? Someone closer to the person they will be, with more experiences that have shaped them? Oh yes, these are the ones I like the most.

Wait, thought Eloise. You’ve sorted others like me before?

Oh yes. A pause. The voice purred in her ear. I can see the hunger for knowledge in you. But…Ravenclaw seems too simplistic. Behind the intelligence lies great ambition. A desire to prove yourself. Prove you belong. Yes, you may have had a rough life but you have managed to use what’s around you to your advantage. So, you must be a…

“SLYTHERIN!”

Eloise started at the sudden shout, realizing that it must have been out loud. As the hat was pulled off of her head, she could see the students at the table at the far end of the hall, the one Leo was at, break into furious whispers amongst each other. The teacher with her smiled kindly and pointed Eloise in their direction. “That’s the Slytherin table, dear. Once you sit down, we can begin eating.”

Eloise got up numbly and slowly walked towards the table. The whispering got louder as she neared it, and the students kept shooting her glances. Most seemed simply curious about the new, older student who had just been sorted into Slytherin, but others looked at her with hostility. Two students moved aside and motioned to her.

“Figured you would rather sit with us than the first years.”

The girl who spoke gave her an appraising look, taking in her muggle clothing and mussed-up hair. Eloise sat down next to her, nervously smoothing her hands over her skirt. Now that the sorting was over and she was actually interacting with her future classmates, she felt exhausted and completely unable to keep up her facade of nonchalance.

“I was going to ask if you like quidditch but…judging by your clothes -“

“Gods, Imelda,” came a drawling voice to Eloise’s left. “Can’t you give the poor girl a break? Not even one second at our table and you’re already trying to recruit her for the team.”

The boy who spoke gave an amused look to Imelda before turning to Eloise. “You’ll want to watch out for that one - if she even gets a whiff of the fact you can fly a broom, she’ll be out to recruit -“

“It’s not my fault!” Imelda interrupted forcefully, smacking her hands on the table and leaning over Eloise to talk to him. “Our best players all graduated last year and I have it cut out for me -“

“- you to the Slytherin team,” the boy concluded, ignoring Imelda’s heated protests. She sat back with a huff and crossed her arms. “Just ignore her. It’s what we’ve found works best. I’m Sebastian Sallow and this is Ominis Gaunt. Two people you will actually want to spend time with.”

He stuck his tongue out at Imelda as he held his hand out to Eloise. The boy across from them snickered quietly to himself as he listened to Imelda splutter in denial. Eloise shook Sebastian’s hand hesitantly. “Eloise. And actually,” she added, turning to Imelda, “I do know what quidditch is. Unfortunately, I’ve never ridden a broom though.”

That got Imelda going again, this time about how it was absolutely impossible that someone could know about the existence of quidditch without ever touching a broom. She seemed to be of the opinion that knowing of its existence meant an undying desire to learn how to play. “So you’re not a mudblood, then? Oh, who am I kidding - of course you’re not. We’re in Slytherin, after all. But how…”

Fortunately, food started appearing on the table before Imelda could finish her thought. It was enough to move her attention from Eloise as she began to pile different foods on her plate. To be quite honest, Eloise was relieved. She wasn’t sure how much she wanted to tell others about her circumstances, especially during this first night before she knew anyone. Would they think differently of her if they knew that she had been disowned from her family and presumed a squib?

Who was she kidding? Of course everyone would judge her for that. Besides, she knew she wanted to talk to Leo before revealing anything - maybe he could help her get a feel for how to approach the situation. If he wanted to even associate with her, that is. Once again, the thought passed through her mind that he could have changed through the years, just as she had. Their parents could be quite persuasive, and more often than not the two siblings had learned that it was easier to go along with them than against.

Leo had grown up with the adoration of their parents, showing magical prowess at the young age of three, when his favorite toys started following him around in a little parade. Eloise, on the other hand…as the years passed and she still wasn’t showing signs of anything at all, not even a measly show of a sneeze blowing her away, their parents started working to distance the siblings from each other. It hadn’t been very effective and yet…without her presence, she could see him moving on in his life. Just as she had tried to do.

A sharp poke to her side. Eloise jumped and looked at Sebastian. “Aren’t you going to eat anything? You need to grab the good things before they’re gone - it’s every man out for himself during the feasts.”

She looked around and, sure enough, the food on the plates was steadily going down. It all looked absolutely delicious - mountains of meat, bread, puddings…her stomach growled loudly as she took it all in. Eloise hurriedly started putting the closest food to her on her plate, reaching over to give herself a heaping serving of mashed potatoes on the side. “Thank you.”

“No problem,” he replied after swallowing the food he was eating. “I’m sure you’ve had a long day if you arrived that late to the sorting ceremony. As you walked up to the stool, Ominis and I had a bet about which house you would be sorted into. I told him, after my first glance at you, that I could tell you’d be one of us, but unfortunately, he - “

“Hey! I can hear you,” Ominis said from across the table, leaning forward slightly. Eloise realized that he was blind - his eyes had no pupils at all. His gaze was unfocused but his head turned in her direction. He explained, “I could only sense your form as you walked down the Hall. And, for the record, before Sebastian can say otherwise, I said I could tell you would be a Slytherin. Will the blind jokes ever get old?”

“As long as I have breath in my body - hey!”

Ominis had thrown a roll at Sebastian’s head which, surprisingly, hit its mark.

“I might not be able to see what just happened, but I know that I’ve just won,” Ominis said smugly, returning his attention to his plate.

Eloise just sat there, not really knowing how to react. This time, it was Imelda’s turn to say, “just ignore them. Luckily, we won’t need to see much more of them as the feast’s finishing up.” She wrinkled her nose in Sebastian’s direction, a gesture that was swiftly returned. Even though she had just met the three of them, Eloise couldn’t help but feel happy just listening to their back-and-forth. She did feel a twinge of…something, though, knowing that she could have been with them since their first year, if only her magic had shown itself sooner.

Mountains of dessert started to replace the remnants of the dinner: plum pudding, lemon tarts, cakes…it was more dessert in one place than Eloise had ever seen in her life. None of the students held back at all trying to get their favorites, especially if it was at the expense of another. The atmosphere was electric - everyone was excited to be back among their friends and catch up over everything that had happened the summer before, and Eloise was happy to just be among them.

She reached for a lemon tart, and when she looked up, she saw that Leo was staring at her intently. He looked away as soon as they made eye contact, but the moment didn’t go past Imelda’s notice.

“Do you know him?” she asked, nodding towards Leo. Eloise flushed and looked down at her plate, nodding reluctantly. She knew as soon as they went through role call the next day, everyone would know that she was a Babbit.

“Yes, he’s…er -“

Eloise broke off, grabbing the nearest goblet of pumpkin juice and drinking the whole thing in one go. When she came up for air, Imelda was still looking at her expectantly. Eloise took a deep breath and tried continuing, but… “I’m not really sure,” is all that came out of her mouth.

Imelda furrowed her brow, clearly trying to figure out how that answer made sense and Eloise wasn’t about to clarify for her. Although it wouldn’t be long before it got out that they were siblings, she wasn’t sure how much she wanted these new acquaintances to know about her at the moment. She had had enough pitying looks to last her a lifetime, and she just knew that once they found out she had been a squib…

“Hey Sebastian,” a pretty blonde girl said, leaning towards the group. She shot Eloise a curious glance but quickly looked back at her target. “Where’s Anne? Is she still gone this year? What a pity…the two of you are…were…sewn together at the hip and I was looking forward to finally being the one who gets between the two of you this year.” At this, the girls surrounding her started tittering and she flipped her hair over her shoulder and pouted. “I thought there would be more of a challenge. But if you’re going to be the changed Sebastian again this year…”

“Who’s…” Eloise trailed off as she saw Sebastian’s expression. It had changed into something almost unrecognizable - at least, to someone who had only known him for all of forty-five minutes. He was looking at the girl with a mixture of barely-controlled fury and…something else that Eloise couldn’t quite place. She shrank away from him as she took in his stricken expression.

“She’s still sick,” he said shortly as he stood up. His hands bunched into tight fists and his body was shaking. Sebastian quickly turned and stormed down the hall. They all watched him go in silence; once he left, the blonde girl turned to Ominis.

“Gods, what’s his problem? So what if she misses a few days of school?” She looked around at everyone, pouting. “You all know I’m right. Last year he was a mess but he should be getting over it by now.”

“You always speak before thinking, Victoria,” Ominis said tersely, getting up. “One of these days, it’s going to get you in trouble. If you keep this up, when that happens nobody will be around to help you pick up the pieces.” With that, he strode away after Sebastian.

Eloise blinked and looked around. The rest of the students were starting to get up and slowly move towards their respective common rooms having finished their dessert, and the prefects were starting to herd the first-years along. Victoria laughed weakly and turned to her friends, effectively ignoring Eloise and Imelda as if they weren’t there. “I think the summer holidays have made people extra sensitive this year. I honestly don’t know what their problem is.”

“Come on, then,” said Imelda, shooting Victoria a dirty look. “Let’s head to the dorms.”

Eloise stood up and started following Imelda’s lead. She was parting the students with ease as she walked through the crowd. Her strides were so long that Eloise had to half-jog to keep up with her. “Our common room is in the dungeons,” Imelda said, looking over her shoulder at Eloise. “The other houses are creeped out by it, but they haven’t actually seen it. You’ll see.”

Because of how quickly Imelda strode through the corridors and down the stairs, Eloise didn’t have much time to take in the rest of the castle. She did however realize that they were winding through the corridors in such a way that she would be hopelessly lost if Imelda weren’t with her. The two of them arrived at the Slytherin common room well before the other students due to Imelda’s fast pace. As they entered the common room after saying the correct password - basilisk - Eloise couldn’t help but look around in wonder. There was light piano music playing in the background - Chopin, Eloise thought she recognized it from her piano lessons at the muggle school. Even though the overall tones of the place were cool - blues and greens filtering through the tall glass windows and from the lamps, the checkered marble floors and columns giving off an air of cold elegance - the beautiful rugs and happily crackling fires made it all come together and seem oddly cozy. Various tables and desks were scattered around the space, and comfortable looking armchairs and couches crowded around low tables. Eloise could just picture it teeming with students studying after class or hanging out on the weekends. She knew that it was a place that could finally feel like home to her.

“I tried, Ominis,” came a hushed whisper from near the windows. Imelda and Eloise froze at the entrance to the common room and glanced at each other. “I just can’t do it. I know what you and Anne told me but…”

“Sebastian. Anne doesn’t want you to wallow and waste your time here worrying about her. I know that you’re worried for her. I mean, I am too. You know she’s like a sister to me.”

“You have no idea,” Sebastian interrupted fiercely. His back was hunched over and he was holding his face in his hands. “It should have been me. I can’t live with myself. With this guilt.”

“No, you -“ Ominis cut himself off as the sound of the other students filtering in started to fill the room. The boys abruptly sat up straighter, although they didn’t look at each other. Oblivious to the tension between the two, a group of second-years sat on the sofa right next to them, as they excitedly caught up with each other.

“I’ll show you our room,” Imelda said, turning to Eloise. “It gets pretty crazy here the first night back from any holidays, with everyone catching up. I don’t know about you, but I want to get some sleep! Quidditch tryouts are next week and I already know how exhausting it will be.”

Eloise really was exhausted, and nothing sounded better to her than finally going to sleep. The dorms seemed to be set up so that the stairs going up led to the girls’ dormitories, and the ones going down to the boys’. Imelda explained that it was due to the fact that boys weren’t to be trusted, and the stairs would turn into a slide if any boy attempted to go up them. It wasn’t something that Eloise had even considered, due to the fact that she had just come from an all-girls school, but she flushed at the implication.

As they reached the staircase, they almost crashed into Sebastian. Imelda had been marching towards the stairs with a single-minded determination and Sebastian had been heading towards his with just as much purpose.

Eloise bounced off of his shoulder. She grabbed her own, wincing slightly. He was more solid than he looked. He looked blankly at the two girls before shaking his head and realizing where they were. “Gods, I’m so sorry. I’m just -“ he gave his head another little shake and saw that Eloise was holding her shoulder. “Are you hurt?”

“It’s fine,” Eloise reassured him. She gave a small smile. “I’ve had worse, it’s really nothing.”

“Yeah, yeah,” interrupted Imelda. She shot Sebastian a concerned look. “Go to bed. We’ll see you tomorrow.”

Imelda shook her head sadly and the girls resumed their path. “Poor boy. He hasn’t been the same since the summer after our third year. I mean, he was always kind of obsessive, but in a charming way. He was on the quidditch team with me, and always really determined to be the absolute best, always working hard to show all of the other students they don’t even know half as much as he does. That sort of thing, you know? It’s not like he was insufferable, his charm drew everyone to him.”

She held the door open and Eloise walked in. It was a cozy circular room, with five four-poster beds. A small fire in the middle of the room warmed the whole place up, and Eloise was relieved to see it. When Imelda had told her that their dormitory was in the dungeons, she had immediately pictured a dark, cold, slimy space. Only one of the beds didn’t have trunks placed at its foot, and Eloise went straight to it. Her trunk had been lost in the dragon attack. She was relieved to see a nightgown laid on top of the bed and a pair of green slippers neatly lined up on the floor; she hadn’t been sure what she would wear.

Imelda sat down heavily on the bed next to Eloise’s and started unlacing her boots. She continued talking. “Then, in our fourth year, he comes to school after summer holidays. Alone. He hasn’t been the same since. Nobody’s quite sure what’s going on with his sister, except that it’s bad. She’s not expected to live much longer.”

“Oh my god,” breathed Eloise. “I can’t even imagine.”

“Me neither.” Imelda shook her head. “He got into trouble left and right last year, there were even rumors of a duel…I don’t think there was a single week where he didn’t have detention. I mean, I don’t blame him, but - he was taken off the team! This year he better not, I can’t afford to lose my best beater again.”

The girls continued chattering quietly to themselves about other topics as they got ready for the night. Slipping into their nightgowns, braiding each others’ hair, and, finally, slipping under the freshly turned bed covers. Eloise turned towards Imelda and simply whispered, “thank you.” Although they had just met, Eloise felt certain in the knowledge that she had just made her first friend.

Imelda waved her off. “It’s nothing. Get some sleep, the first day of classes is always overwhelming. I can’t even imagine starting as a fifth-year.”

With that, she rolled over and soon Eloise heard her breathing deepen as she fell asleep. She stared at the canopy covering her bed for what seemed like an eternity. The low murmurs of the other girls as they came in and got ready for bed slowly morphed into drowsy good-nights, until finally the room was silent except for the steady tick of a clock and their breathing.

As tired as she felt, Eloise couldn’t stop the racing of her mind. It felt like the last few days had more action than the entirety of her life. Even though banished had, at the time, been incredibly momentous for her, it paled in comparison to finding out that she actually was a witch and had been admitted to Hogwarts. She had used magic for the first time today. The rush of power that ran through her body when she cast spells was unlike anything else she had ever experienced. It just felt right. Like some part of her that had been hidden away had finally made itself known and she felt whole for the first time. She wondered if everyone else felt that same rush, that same desire to know and master absolutely every aspect of magical knowledge. She had been given a gift that until now had felt like a pathetic little daydream and she wasn’t about to waste it now that she had it.

The clock kept on ticking lazily and still Eloise was awake. She eventually got up and after shrugging on a robe and slipping on the green slippers, headed towards the common room. She and Imelda hadn’t spent much time in it earlier, and she wanted to see it at least once without any people, maybe as a space just for herself.

As it was even later in the night - it must have been around three - the fire had been extinguished and the light filtering through the windows had turned an even deeper shade of emerald green. It covered the mahogany furniture with an eerie light, as if Eloise had stepped into some strange underworld instead of the empty Slytherin common room. She trailed her hand along the velvet back of a sofa, mesmerized by the stark contrast of the green highlights and black shadows as her hand moved. Lazily twirling a globe as she walked past, the room silent except for her muffled footsteps.

It was precisely the silence that absorbed her completely. Being alone had always been her favorite thing; there was just something so special about being the only person in a place, feeling as if you were the only holder of some great secret. Eloise made her way towards the tall glass windows as if in a dream, not really noticing anything of her surroundings and yet taking it all in. The feeling of being there.

When she heard the soft voice she nearly jumped out of her skin.

“You couldn’t sleep either?”

Eloise whirled towards the voice, feeling as if her heart was about to burst through her chest. The student - a male - was sitting by one of the windows. Since the only light source was the windows, his face was entirely shrouded in black. Eloise was suddenly very aware of how indecently she was dressed to be outside of her dormitory. The sudden change from complete, eerie tranquility was shattered and she wrapped her robe more tightly around her, keeping her arms hugged around her body.

“Who -“

The boy straightened up, tilting his head back toward the window and, with the aid of the green light, Eloise saw that it was Ominis.

“What are you doing down here, Ominis? You almost gave me a heart attack! You’re sitting in the shadows and I thought I was alone.”

“I could ask the same of you,” he said simply, the hint of an amused smirk gracing his features. “And, might I add, I didn’t mean to scare you on purpose. I thought you were purposely walking towards me. For all I know, it could be the break of dawn and I’m basking in the early rays of the sun.”

Eloise’s jaw dropped open in mortification. She had completely forgotten that he was blind. “How did you know that I was walking towards you?” She clapped her hands over her mouth in horror, the words leaving before she could stop them. What was wrong with her? With her sudden movement, her robes had fallen open again, revealing her nightgown, but she was too distraught over possibly having offended Ominis than continuing to follow the rules of propriety. “Oh Merlin’s beard, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean…”

He just huffed quietly. They hadn’t spoken much at dinner, and Eloise was positive that he was angry with her. Maybe he had only acknowledged her presence because his best friend had seen fit to talk with her. Growing up blind, it would make sense for him to be sensitive to any comments regarding it…her face was flushed with mortification and guilt, and she slowly started backing away. Eloise figured it was better to just end the whole encounter being ruder still by making a hasty retreat, than to put her foot in her mouth once again and risk offending him more.

“No, wait,” Ominis said as soon as he realized she was walking away. His voice was choked with emotion and it seemed difficult for him to get the words out. Eloise froze and looked at him. His whole body was shaking, and she couldn’t tell if he was angry or…

Was he laughing?

“I might be blind, but I’m not deaf. In this silence, I would have been able to notice if anyone had entered the room even if they were trying to be sneaky, which you certainly were not. Stay, if you want.”

Eloise hesitated, then took the seat across from Ominis in the window. She nervously smoothed her nightgown over her legs. “Just so you know, you’re completely in shadow. If you hadn’t said anything, I probably would have walked right past you without realizing that you were here too.”

“I’ll choose a better spot to sit next time then, when I can’t fall asleep in the middle of the night,” he replied seriously. If not for the fact that he had just been teasing her, she would have thought that he was really taking what she said into consideration. “You never answered my original question. You can’t sleep?”

Eloise shook her head, then quickly added, “no. So much has happened these last few days…my brain always has a hard time turning off. Especially after a day like today.”

Ominis hummed in understanding, tilting his head towards her. The green light filtering through the water danced over his gaunt features, making his cheekbones and the dark circles under his eyes more prominent. His pupil-less eyes glowed eerily in the light. “I can only imagine. You arrived late to the sorting, and your aura was very unnerving as you stepped into the Great Hall. I immediately knew something was extraordinary about you.”

“My…aura?”

“Yes. I might not be able to see, but my wand does it for me. It’s hard to explain but…I can sense the people around me. I can’t make out features, but everyone has their own unique aura radiating from them. Yours is…different.”

Different? It must have something to do with the fact she hadn’t had any magical ability until recently. Maybe it was stunted or…maybe her aura was different due to the stress of the day.

“I saw someone murdered in front of me today,” Eloise blurted out before she could stop herself. Ominis didn’t look surprised by her sudden outburst, he merely remained still as he waited for Eloise to continue. “It was…shocking. A dragon came out of nowhere and just ripped our carriage in half, taking Mr. Osric with it. The worst part is…I’m-I’m shocked because it happened. But I’m not sad. I don’t feel the horror I think I should be feeling, and that is more horrifying to me. When I was lying in bed, the events of today kept replaying in my mind on a loop and I kept on trying to make myself feel the correct emotions. But I couldn’t. Something inside of me is broken.”

Eloise looked down at her hands, fingers wringing and untwisting together in her lap. She tried to force herself to sit as still as Ominis, but it was impossible. She couldn’t believe how easy it was to unload all of this onto a stranger, but he didn’t seem to mind listening. There was silence for a few minutes, but it wasn’t an uncomfortable one. Eloise peeked at Ominis from under her lashes. The boy appeared to be deep in thought.

“I couldn’t sleep either,” he finally said. “It’s normal for me, though. I also have a hard time turning off my thoughts, especially at night. This little corner of the common room feels like mine, in a sense. I’ve been coming here to think since I was a first-year. Maybe I subconsciously chose this place because, if you’re right, it’s more hidden than the rest. Nobody will see me if they’re sneaking around late at night, and it’s so peaceful.”

“That I can agree with,” said Eloise. “I actually came down here to see what it was like when it’s empty. I don’t quite know how to explain it, but this place already feels like home to me. A far sight better than the place I left behind. Places.”

“If you want me to leave, I’m fine with giving up my hiding place for a worthy cause.”

“No,” Eloise said quickly. “I…I like having you here. With me. It means I don’t have to be alone with my thoughts.”

Ominis smiled and tilted his head, not quite looking at her in that odd way of his. “It’s nice, talking to you. Most people avoid me. I can’t imagine why.”

Eloise huffed in quiet laughter. They sat in silence for a while longer, until Ominis broke it again. “You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to. But…am I correct in guessing that you and Leo Babbit know each other?”

Eloise’s breath hitched in her throat. She still wasn’t sure how much of her past she wanted people to know…but she also knew that as soon as the day broke the castle would be swirling with rumors. And, as much as she hated the thought, the truth would come out one way or another. She had been lucky enough so far…her name hadn’t been said at the sorting due to the unusual circumstances. But, come morning, everyone would put the pieces together once her name was called out by a teacher.

She could test the waters with someone like Ominis, who seemed like the sort of fellow who would take it in stride.

“I…like I said, you don’t have to tell me,” Ominis said softly.

“No! No, it’s fine,” Eloise assured him. “It’s…complicated. I would prefer if it never came out but…if the school I was at before is any indication, everyone will know by lunch tomorrow regardless of if I say anything or not.” She took a deep breath, steadying herself. “My full name is Eloise Babbit. Leo is my brother.”

Ominis showed no reaction. It gave her the strength to continue.

“I was rejected by my family. As the years went by and I still wasn’t showing any signs of magic, I was ignored by my parents in favor of Leo. When my eleventh year came and went without any acceptance letter to Hogwarts, I had to come to terms with the fact that I was actually a squib. Up until then, I had held onto the hope and the day I lost that, I lost everything. I was banished and burned off of the family tree, like I never existed. Until a few days ago, I was learning how to become a perfect muggle wife at one of their horrid finishing schools. My family had already prepared a marriage for me to a prominent muggle family, reasoning that I could at least give them important connections.” She spat that last word out. Even speaking the words was a bitter reminder of the life she had almost led. “Based on Leo’s reaction, he definitely didn’t know that I had been admitted to Hogwarts. I don’t even know what’s worse: if my parents knew and decided not to tell him, or if the fact that I was burned off the family tree means that they wouldn’t have received a notification.”

She stared at her hands again. What was it about this boy that made her want to unload everything to him? Yes, he had asked her about it, but she still felt guilty for talking to him at all. Like somehow, telling him would make it his problem as well.

“If there’s anyone in this school who understands the horrors of one’s family, it’s me,” he said. Eloise looked up at him in surprise. He chuckled quietly, as if he could see her expression. “My family are direct descendants of Salazar Slytherin. Absolutely stark-raving mad, pureblood fanatics. We’ve gotten quite reclusive in the past hundred years or so, and don’t have much contact with the outside world. Your family’s inbreeding resulted in fear of giving birth to a potential squib. Mine, in the form of a useless, blind son who has no interest in continuing their crazy beliefs. I guess you could say we are two kindred souls. Maybe that’s what your aura was trying to tell me earlier this evening.”

“I guess so,” Eloise replied. Both could tell that the other wasn’t saying everything on their mind, but she wanted to give him the same comfort he had offered her and decided not to pry. “Thank you, Ominis.”

He inclined his head towards her and then moved his unseeing gaze to the large stained glass window. They sat there for quite some time, at least it felt that way to Eloise. The passage of time seemed not to exist as she and Ominis sat there, deep inside their own thoughts. Formless shadows danced behind the window, their regular movements helping to calm her thoughts. After what seemed like an eternity, Eloise found herself stifling a yawn.

“It seems your day has finally caught up with you,” Ominis said, smiling softly. “I think it’s best if we head to bed. Hogwarts might be more progressive than the muggle school you’ve just escaped, but if anyone sees us here together it would just further the rumors already swirling around you.”

Eloise nodded her assent and stood up slowly. She hadn’t realized how much time they had spent there until she felt the stiffness in her muscles that only comes from remaining still for a very long time. Ominis also got up slowly, gracefully stretching out his long body in the process. As he stood, she saw him grab his wand out of his pocket, and it began glowing a faint red as he walked. That must be how he gets around, she thought to herself. He did say his wind has a mind of its own.

She followed him and they slowly made their way to the two sets of stairs leading to the dormitories. They paused once they were about to part. “Goodnight, Ominis.”

“Goodnight, Eloise. I’ll see you tomorrow. Or rather, I’ll sense your presence later on this morning.” He gave her a faint smile and then turned to head down the stairs leading to his dormitory. Eloise stood there, watching until she couldn’t see the red glow of his wand anymore. With a yawn, she turned towards her room and soon slipped under the covers, sleep finally coming. Before she fell asleep, she had only the fleeting realization that Ominis had not actually answered her question.

The title is a link to everything on ao3, but just in case you didn’t catch that, here it is🫶

next chapter

[666writingcafe]

Jealousy?

MC

"Would you mind answering a question for me?" Barbatos asks me once we've exchanged pleasantries and settled down in the parlor.

"Depends on the question." A faint smile crosses his lips.

"I was just wondering how you could choose to associate yourself with Solomon." The irritation in his voice is rather evident, and I'm reminded of the staredown the two men engaged in a couple days ago.

"What do you have against him?" I sound a bit too defensive for my liking. I'm not trying to pick a fight with Barbatos; I simply want to know why he seems to detest the sorcerer so much.

He sighs before replying,

"Perhaps the version of Solomon that accompanied you here has cleaned up his act--and good for him if he has--but the one I know is fiendish, a blight upon the world, and destruction incarnate. He throws anyone he can under the bus if it meant avoiding trouble for himself. Being here for an extended period of time may cause your sorcerer to revert back to old habits, and I don't want to see you get hurt."

"Why? You hardly know me."

"You're right." He pauses. "I'm not sure, really. I mean, you seem like a good, honest person, but what do I know? Maybe you're just as bad as him, and I shouldn't have even bothered taking you under my wing." While coming from a practical place, his words do sting.

"And yet you did." Barbatos sighs again.

"And yet I did," he repeats, taking a sip of his tea. "The decision came from a gut feeling I had, and those rarely fail me. I just hope that you don't prove me wrong."

My turn to drink some tea.

I'm not used to Barbatos being this open about his emotions, especially while he's on duty. Perhaps time has granted him the ability to remain calm and composed when he's on the clock, but still. It'll be a bit before I get used to this particular attitude of his.

"Are you ready for your first lesson?" he asks, pulling me out of my head and back to the present moment. It takes me a second to remember exactly why I'm over at the castle today in the first place, but once I do, I quickly nod my head.

"Good. We'll start with a fairly basic anatomy topic: pheromones." Interesting place to start. Is he finally going to let me ask the question I had about Lucifer?

"In a lot of ways, demons bear a closer resemblance to animals than to humans," he continues. "While their strength in the latter is fairly minimal, the former uses them as a effective method of communication. Our pheromones can tell others what we're feeling as well as mark our territory, among other things.

"Demons have a baseline scent that's present no matter what they do. For example, I smell like mint, and Lord Diavolo like old leather. Different pheromones will bring out specific notes of the baseline scent. Positive emotions tend to make it sweeter, while negative emotions bring out its bitter and sour side. If those emotions are tied to one of the seven sins, then the scent becomes more potent, sometimes to the point of being nauseating to anyone that happens to catch a whiff.

"Am I making sense to you so far?" I nod my head. I don't have any questions yet, but I have a feeling that even if I did, Barbatos wouldn't let me ask any of them just yet.

"Now, Lucifer and his brothers have stayed in the castle for the last couple months, and in that time, I've picked up on all of their scents. Lucifer had one of the more pungent ones. Understandably so, since he's probably the most emotionally scarred from the war, but it got to the point where I couldn't be around him for longer than a few minutes. And making some of my favorite dishes proved to be impossible after a while, for even the smallest amount of nutmeg would make my stomach turn.

"But the moment you returned his credit card to him, Lucifer's scent noticeably shifted. For once, he actually smelled pleasant. And then it became stronger. By the time he left my side, I was craving a giant slice of coffee cake." At this point, he stops talking, allowing me to finally speak.

"So, you're telling me that my simple nice gesture was enough to turn him on?"

"It would appear that way, yes." Unbelievable. "If I pointed it out at the time, though, Solomon probably would have run after Lucifer to tease him about it, and that would most definitely piss Lucifer off. Plus, he would adamantly denied feeling that way at all, and given his initial behavior towards you, I didn't want to see you upset by him completely disregarding your kindness."

As I mull over Barbatos' words, I'm suddenly reminded of a specific moment. One where Lucifer had his mouth covered with a handkerchief, looking like he was about to throw up.

I wonder...

"If it's not too much trouble, would you mind telling me what I smell like?" I ask, causing Barbatos to smile.

"Not at all. In fact, I was just getting ready to ask you if you wanted to know, so this works out great." He sets his tea down on a nearby table and gets up, walking around and stopping behind the chair I'm sitting in. I momentarily feel part of his face on top of my head as he audibly sniffs. I'm sure that if someone walked past us right now, they'd be weirded out by what they saw.

Or maybe not. I don't know if intentionally smelling someone like this is standard demon behavior. Maybe it is, and I'm overthinking it.

"Vanilla buttercream frosting," Barbatos announces. Somehow, that doesn't surprise me. It at least explains a few things, if nothing else. Frosting can get overwhelmingly sweet.

"That might actually work," he mutters to himself as he sits back down.

"What would?" Barbatos finishes his tea before clasping his hands in front of him.

"There's a creature on the grounds that needs tamed. He's both ferocious and extremely dangerous, so Lord Diavolo had me put a spell on him to prevent anyone from coming into contact with him. If I told you how to undo the spell, would you like to take a stab at it?"

"What makes you think I'd be successful?"

"You don't smell threatening."

"No; I smell like a goddamn dessert. The creature will probably think I'm food and try to eat me."

"And if that's the case, I'll bail you out." He pauses. "There are creatures like this one that are very selective about who they will submit to, and I believe that you fit this particular one's criteria. Plus, you'll earn the title "Ruler of the Underworld", and you can use that as a way to get people to quit treating the brothers like shit." I find myself snorting in amusement.

"Like a mere title is going to make people change their entire ideology."

"People can think whatever they like. They just have to learn to keep some of those thoughts to themselves or else face severe consequences." The grin on his face is lowkey terrifying. I don't know if I want to be on the wrong end of that smile.

So, I end up agreeing to take on the responsibility of taming this creature.

Taglist: @lost-in-time-wanderer, @fuzztacular, @dianedancer18, @sweetbrier2908, @flare-love, @completelyshatteredbrokenmschf, @thunderlightning351, @l3v1chan, @anxious-chick, @5mary5, @expressionless-fr

[anjellaufeyson]

RITUALISTIC SACRIFICIAL LOVE - Michael Langdon

It was the end of times, the apocalypse. Every person I stood with was backstabbing, prideful, and dull. I came from a wealthy family, yes. But I came from a family who had morals, rare but true. A traditional family that almost suffocated me with their rules. I played with my cross neckless, a gold chain laid upon my chest. I stayed true to my faith, as true as one could be in this state. 

“You–come with me, it’s your turn,” the man said in a deep yet calm voice. 

He gave me a weird feeling, like he was pure evil but his demeanor was indifferent. He ranged between the look of heaven yet his personality was on the verge of evil but stood on sinful. His demeanor could deceive even the best. I followed him into a dimly lit room, his hands lingered on the desk. He leaned over on it from the other side. “If you lie, I will know. If you try to trick me, I will know and this interview will be over and you will be left to die…now let’s begin. Do you believe you’re evil?” 

His words were so serene that you almost wouldn’t think to weigh what he was asking you to answer, “Yes.” 

The expression on his face changed, I’m assuming he didn’t expect that answer to leave my lips. “And why is that?” 

I stared at him, taking in every feature and every malevolent thing about him. “I’ve wished death upon everyone in this hellhole. I’ve come to even welcome the thought of death, as long as it means I wouldn’t have to spend another second here. But my God has kept me strong.” 

His gaze lifted, his eyes glared at me, “your God?” I nodded and a stomach-twisting grin arose on his face. “Do you fear during your time here you’ll fall into temptation?” He walked around the desk and stepped closer to me, closer than I was comfortable with. “I take it you’re aware of the seven sins?” I nodded once more, staring at him and the proximity we stood within. “Which one do you believe you’ll fall into?” His words came out slowly.

I took a step back and he followed, “Envy.” 

His hands hooked behind his back, “Is that right? Most would’ve said–lust.” 

I was hesitant to speak, where is he going with this? “I have no reason to say that, I’m ‘pure’.” Almost regretfully I’ve never gotten the opportunity to lose it before the end of the world. But maybe that’ll help my chances. “Is this interview done now?”

A smile appeared on his face as he brushed my hair out of mine, “So eager.” He finally stepped back, “Would you ever fall into such a deadly sin? The irreversible sin?” 

I shook my head, “I have no reason to. God forbid anything tempting enough would slither its way to me. Why risk eating the forbidden fruit when you’re already comfortable with the knowledge you already hold?” Years of catholicism will leave you using bible stories as metaphors. 

The glimmer in his eyes made me realize the difference between good and evil. His breathing became heavy, “Good answer.”

Assuming it was the last one I headed towards the door, “Did I make the cut…what was your name again, sorry?” 

He raised his head while staring daggers into me with his blue eyes, “Michael Langdon…and we’ll see, you still have one test.” 

I walked to my room and sat in silence, it’s either here or downstairs with the dumbasses I’m forced to live with. I opened the one book I had time to pack, and the rest perished. The bible clung to my hands. I closed my eyes and felt my breathing get softer and warmer. My body felt like it was falling into the depths of sleep. 

God, is this the biggest test of my faith? What is to come of me? 

As I begged in faith, my door creaked. Is this a dream? There entering my domain of solitude was a person dressed in a black latex suit. “What the hell are you doing in my room, get out if I wanted to join you guys down there I would’ve,” I said sternly. The person in the suit shook their head and stepped closer. 

I set my bible in the bedside drawer. The person came closer and it was like my being recognized the person who stood underneath the suit. The tall figure, the feeling that makes me question my faith. It was clear who this was. I took the mask off and it dropped onto the floor as I realized I had been right. “Michael?” I can’t even escape the evil of this world, even in my dreams.

A sinister yet heavenly smile laid upon his face. 

“What is your test,” I asked, a little too fearlessly. The control I had in my dream felt so real. “Is it based upon how humans only care for flesh in this time of desperation and frightfulness? How do they want someone to cling to, how their selfishness is almost pitiful?” I stepped closer and stared into his piercing eyes, “All of us are no better here than the corruption that lies outside these walls.”

He tilted his head a bit in amusement, “Your biblical nature is impressive. Though I’m sure my knowledge on it is more…profound.” 

“Ask away.” 

His eyes turned what I swore to be fully black. He looked so devilish, “How did Satan come to be?”

Easy, one of the easiest questions. “He was God’s favorite, pridefulness struck him and so did foolishness. He lacked what God had plenty of, power. He must’ve found it disappointing that his favorite assumed he was better than the almighty himself. Then he was turned into nothing but a fault in the world and its sins. That’s the best question you have for me?”

Michael glared harshly at me but also seemed as if he was trying to figure me out. “You’re not as persuaded as the others–they easily fell into sin during my visits with them. But you–you stay true to your morals and beliefs.” 

“My faith is not easily shaken.” I stood tall, almost sinfully proud. I glanced down at the floor and then back to Michael. “I think you should get going. There is no test to pass, if I’ve already failed I’m okay with that.” 

His hand raised and he dragged it along my shoulder, moving my hair. He leaned in close to my ear, and I froze. “This is the test your God has laid before you.” 

At first, I was confused but then I remembered what I internally asked God before he entered my room. “Would God bestow such an easy test such as this? This lacks temptation.” 

Michael touched my gold rosary and it felt like he tugged it a bit, causing me to move an inch closer. “Temptation is all around.” He moved his hand and suddenly his hair was shorter, he had a youthful look to him–something more innocent? He had a black cape and he was wearing some maroon.

“How did you–” I paused mid-question, this is my dream. Dreams are unrealistic and filled with illusions. I hated how attractive I found him. 

His hand raised and he rested his hand behind my head. “Rules are made to be broken,” his voice sounded so deceptive. As if he was leading me astray. He moved in closer, his lips inches from mine. “Sins are to be avoided, but if it’s so immoral then why does it feel so good,” he questioned. His words came out slowly and deeply. 

My body was falling into whatever trap he seemed to be laying at my feet. But I turned away, “Michael,” I whispered. His hand dragged itself along my skin to my neck. His rings were cold and I almost gasped at the exposure. 

“Don’t you see how easily the skin falls into sin?” An incomprehensible noise left my lips. “Speak,” he said and so I did. 

“Yes.” 

In a fast motion, he turns me around and pushes me onto my bed. My chest hit the mattress, even in quickness the touch was so gentle. His fingertips dragged along my back as he moved my hair off of my nightgown. 

How could I allow myself to get into this situation? How could I allow myself to not want to get out of it? “This is wrong, morally and strictly. The woman said physical contact between two people is forbidden and punishable by death.” 

A tiny raspy laugh escaped him, “Trust me, I outrank that command.” His hands feel around my waist and I’m about to push them away but he gripped my skin roughly. 

Michael’s touch was so delicate yet rough. Again, him being a constant continuation of good and evil. Innocent and tainted. My will couldn’t be this lost. I stood up and turned around to face Michael. “I can’t do this, it doesn’t feel–right.” 

Something almost hypnotizing showed in his eyes, “This is a dream. What do you have to lose? What moral codes are you breaking?” 

My mind was filled yet hollowed out. The scales were weighed in my mind and just like the other fools I am inferior to survive with–I fell. I wrapped my arms around his neck and kissed him eagerly. He kissed back way more intensely. 

Michael pulled away and I watched as his tongue ran along his teeth. “Ah, every human remains the same. The only societal vice that stands till the end of time.” His head tilted as his thumb touched my chin and held itself there. “What a pity, I hoped you would’ve proved me wrong.” 

A hurt expression washed over my face, “This isn’t a dream…this is the test?” 

“Smart one aren’t you.” 

I moved away from my bed and slowly backed away, “You–you tricked me? I was just a pawn in your experiment.”

Michael followed me in a begging manner, “But don’t you see? You like everyone fell into your needs, and why shy away from that?” His deception rendered me silent. “You passed.”

A/N

What other characters would you like to see one shot on? I just do my current crushes, but I'll take recommendations. Hope you like this one, it's wordier ngl, I was trying something new.

[touyastearss]

Perfection - (Ex Boyfriend! Gojo x Reader)

WARNING: stalking, yandere, manipulation, forced relationship

“A smile wouldn’t hurt, baby.”

The last thing you want to do, as you stare into those vacant, black sunglasses, is smile.

You’re looking at yourself; it’s a twisted version of the image in your mirror that morning, like looking into the ripples of water. Your eyes are duller, the light you’d worked so hard to find in them has been stolen away along with your smile.

But he looks the same. His hair is down, perfect, soft white strands falling over his face. His smile is as bright as ever, and in his hands he holds a little white bag.

You can’t see his eyes.

“How are you here?”

You’re not sure what else to say. Everything had been going so well. You’d had two months in your cosy little flat, two months of silence, two months of peace.

He doesn’t reply. For the first time in a long time, you wish you could see beneath those dark shields of his and look into his eyes. Maybe you’d find some sort of emotion in their piercing blues.

You try again.

“How did you find me?” He lets out an obnoxious laugh at that, stepping forward. His foot crosses the border of your door, trodding on the soft ‘Welcome’ mat that you’d bought a few weeks earlier. There’s not much you can do to stop him as he pushes your door wider, the metal of the handle banging against the wall from the contact. You step back, cowering away from him as his head turns back and forth, scanning over the room you’d called a home for the last 8 weeks. As he slowly turns his head, you feel scrutinised beneath his gaze, like you’re baring your innermost secrets to a cruel God, ready to punish you for your sins.

He turns his head to you again, impassively.

“You don’t really find something that isn’t lost.”

You want to cry. You should’ve known. You did know. But you’d convinced yourself it wasn’t true. As the days passed you’d grown so sure that you’d finally escaped him. You should’ve known.

“What do you want?”

He tilts his head, playfully. “Other than seeing my pretty little girlfriend?” You stay silent, willing your face to hide the emotions sparked by his words. It was never wise to show emotion in front of Gojo, you knew that too well. He continues

“I got bored of waiting, so I thought I’d bring you a gift.” He raises his right hand, and your eyes once again fall onto the white bag, adorned with a thin black handle. You’d forgotten about it until now, his presence far too encompassing of your attention for such a small detail to matter. You can’t see the logo, but your memories return to a large, shared room, a vanity table adorned with rows of gifts that all came wrapped in an identical way. You’d tried to forget those times.

“I saw this and I just knew   you’d love it. Only the best for my favourite girl.” His arms wrap around your waist, the heat of his body against your back.

“Let me.” It’s not an offer, it’s a demand. You don’t move as his fingers lightly trace up your neck, despite the goosebumps that rise across your skin. He grips your chin between his fingers, lifting your head up so that your eyes come into contact with your mirror, the two of you encompassing the entirety of its little frame.

You’re looking at yourself, again. But he’s behind you. You’re centred in the middle, but he takes up all the rest of the reflection, trapping you in his presence.

You hate how delicate his fingers are as the necklace is placed upon your skin, tracing your collarbone as you hold your breath.  You hate the feel of his soft lips pressing against the sweet spot on your neck. You hate the way the gems glitter so perfectly in the light that breaks through your window, the way that you seem to glow in his presence, the way you look a little more refined with him standing behind you. You hate the look in his eyes as you meet his gaze.

He pinches the chain of the necklace between his fingers, and the stones crush against your windpipe. Collared.

“Don’t we look perfect together?”

You do. You truly do.

[sparkbeast20]

Theories for WHB

These are purely speculative and base on what we got from the official site, character sheets, etc.

Lucifer and "Some of the devils from Paradise Lost" are Fallen angels

Bathin and Buer despite being or former of Paradise Lost are not Fallen angels.

Morax and Marbas both lose an eye, which judging from we saw from the angels. They all have one eye different or hidden, because that eye is a sign that they are affiliated to Heaven, best example is Michael's eye.

The only that holds theory back is that Marbas has his missing eye on his left, not right.

Also... That means that Lucifer's design might have him with an eyepatch or his bangs is covering it.

Belphegor's Strain/Distant Relationship with the other kings

This is purely speculative because of his placement in the Gacha screen.

Like I and many others assume the dummy at the back is Lucifer, but with closer look, Lucifer's sigil is on the dummy next to Satan and Leviathan.

This is gut feeling and with the knowledge that Belphegor rebel against heaven he didn't want to work. That Maybe they use that part of his lore but with the kings. Like he did something that made the other kings distrust him in the past.

The connect of Solomon "Death/Disappearance" to Beelzebub's leaving Avisos/Abyssos.

The only thing that hold this theory together is the date/year it all happened. B.C. 931

The Possible of Andrealphus' family and friends isn't really dead

Thanks to @d34dlysinner for bringing to my attention.

So in the missing Solomon teaser, the devil crossed out might be Andrealphus' friends and family.

And with knowing that Raphael is the angel in this post, it make sense!

But what I'm thinking is that... Raphael might not killed them, and Andrealphus assume that they might be dead, but what if they were turned into angels.

This would be more painful for Andrealphus if he's being killing angels and he might've killed his own friends and family.

The Final Temptation is the reason the other three will reveal themselves to MC

So, from what we've seen, the main goal of "Season 1" is breaking the contact with the 72 nobles/devils. But what I was wondering is that they never once mention about the Final temptation concept in any of the vids about the story and game play/system.

And this made me think... what if the Final Temptation mention in the app stores version was a hint of plot of a future story in the game.

And I'll even go out and say that this might be their way to introduce the other three sins/kings.

Like, I was curious is to why the other kings haven't been revealed yet when we see some of their nobles.

Then I had a thought, maybe they didn't want to get involve with MC just yet, but as soon as the idea of the Final Temptation was mention they thought that maybe its time to meet MC.

So here's how I think it'll go.

MC finish all 72 devils contracts and even it pains the kings and nobles, MC has to go back to the human.

But even with their power is fully unlocked, it's still not enough to win or end the war.

So some of them tried to look for a different way to end the war and that's how they stumble upon the Final temptation. Or one of the other kings (Lucifer, Asmodeus or Belphegor) brought this to the other four kings.

And there we have a plot for Season 2 :D

The breaking of the contract required both party (MC and said Nobles) feel mutual or has strong feelings

Now, this is just me and my thoughts on this moment with Zagan.

Here's a thing, I have no problem with Sitri calling us as Solomon, because he at least knows that we are our own person.

While with Zagan... He compare us with Solomon.

Now, here's my theory with this... What if when MC and Zagan try to break his contract is because Zagan doesn't have real feels or doesn't see MC as someone to respect.

So when he and MC tried to figure out what's the reasoning, they get to know each other better and there, Zagan is MC as their own person.

Thus, when they tried it again and this time it works.

This also give a reason why MC can't just go around and breaking the contracts, it gives the other nobles a chance to develop and make the story interesting.

So far, this is all my theories for now, and there are some I missed because I forgot about it or I missed it completely.

You guys can share your thoughts on these :D

[touyafootfetish]

Baby, My Baby

summary: this time, endeavor goes to sekoto peak

warnings: angst? maybe?

a/n: do you know those dreams where you have a baby and you’re living the life of your dreams but then you wake up with the most empty, gut-wrenching feeling ever? that’s my inspiration for this 😛

Enji didn’t believe in luck. He believed that everything had to be worked for, and that manifesting something with no effort put behind it was a foolish concept. Wishing upon a star was a thing for fairytales and fiction.

Or maybe he just didn’t think of himself as lucky. In no lifetime would he ever consider himself to be a lucky person. He’d made far too many mistakes to even ponder the probability of it.

As soon as he was released from the hospital, he held a press conference with Hawks and Best Jeanist where he faced heavy criticism when addressing Dabi indeed being his first-born child. Afterwards, he returned to his agency where he was right now.

Sitting at his desk with his head heavy in his hands. He’s beyond exhausted, but he has to shoulder it. The weight of his actions washing over him like a tidal wave. He managed to hold out during the conference, but he was facing a whole sea of emotions he wasn’t sure how to handle. He didn’t know where to start.

Well… he could start with the odd feeling that’s been bothering him ever since he sat down.

Something was… off. He couldn’t quite place it, but something felt different. Something was different. It seemed that even the weather had changed in the few minutes since his return. The sky that was once a horribly bright blue was gray and clouded. He didn’t think much of it. Of course, weather changing wasn’t anything out of the ordinary. It happened all the time. And after all, spring often brought rainstorms and such.

Well, whether it rained or not wasn’t important. Lifting his head from his hands, Enji let out a heavy sigh, eyes glancing over his desk. No doubt calls of villain attacks would soon flood the agency. He’d probably be out on the street again— possibly in a matter of minutes. He didn’t even want to think about it. All he could think about was his family. About Dabi… no, Touya.

Was his son truly alive? He couldn’t bear the thought. All this time, he’d been alive— watching him. He knew that everything was his fault. And he knew that he’d spend the rest of his live trying to atone for his sinful acts against his family. He wouldn’t even ask for forgiveness, because he knew it wasn’t something he deserved and he was fine with that. He wouldn’t even dream of asking that of his family. Of his wife and children.

The only thing that mattered was putting a stop to the villains and serving the people he’d sworn to protect when he decided to become a hero. Then and only then would he be content, knowing that he did all he could until the very end.

“What in the world… it’s spring, why on earth is this—” The hero cut himself short when he took a closer look at the small calendar in front of him. October, the days only marked to the fifteenth. Brows furrowed, he focused his eyes to make sure he wasn’t just seeing things. The year. What year was it? His eyes darted to the corner of the page where the year was boldly printed. Suddenly, it felt like the whole world was spinning on its head.

Fall. It was fall, however, eleven years ago. Eleven years. Enji’s eyes widened and a look of panic took over his features. This couldn’t be right… could it? He wasn’t supposed to be here. This day, it was a scar. A painful reminder that he hated to remember.

A cold, windy day. The air was dry.

He didn’t have to be outside to know that, simply because he’d been here before. It was a particularly hard day at work, and he’d come home later than usual. Only to find out that his eldest son had been consumed in a raging fire at Sekoto Peak. He remembered it clear as day. He wasn’t even supposed to work that day, yet he came here anyway.

Touya had asked him to meet him at the spot where they trained together. And Enji, he left for work thinking it was for the better, and that he wouldn’t be feeding the fire he lit under his child. Ever since that day, he’d tortured himself by knowing that Touya would’ve still been there if he’d only given up work to see him. He didn’t know why he was still sitting here.

He shot straight up from his desk and almost sprinting out of his office. Was this some kind of joke? It couldn’t have been. One look at his agency told him all he needed to know. He’d had a lot of maintenance and interior work done over the years so that’s how he knew it was true. He paid no mind to his sidekicks as he ran out of the office. He pulled his phone from the pocket of his coat and messaged his driver. He had to get home.

As he frantically paced in front of his building, he prayed to every kami above that this time— this time he wouldn’t be late. That this time he would be there. He wouldn’t yell, he wouldn’t shout, he wouldn’t raise his hands to his child. Never again. Not if it meant he had the chance to make things right. Not if it meant seeing his son again.

Losing himself in his thoughts, he’d unintentionally tuned out his surroundings and didn’t notice the blaring horn of his drivers car pulling up. The window was rolled down, revealing his driver’s usual expression of irritation. “Take me to Sekoto Peak.” Enji demanded. Barely in the car, he stared down his driver. “Now! Step on it, damn it!” he raised his voice, giving in to his impatience.

“Yes, Endeavor sir!”

He was never one to be antsy or nervous. Yet here he was, bouncing his knee and biting his nails. A cold sweat trickled down the back of his neck, hairs standing on end. Once he found Touya, the first thing he would do is apologize. Then he’d watch him. He would watch him and listen to everything he had to say. Touya always got so excited when he talked about his training. His voice would get high and bubbly as he rambled on about learning new moves. He wouldn’t interrupt or brush him off. He’d be patient like he should’ve been the first time.

Then he’d take Touya home. He would take a week— no, more than that away from work and spend time at home. He’d spend time with his family. He’d let Shouto play with his siblings, and he wouldn’t train him so hard, or at all. Yeah. He’d stop pushing such unrealistic expectations onto his children. He’d bring his wife back home and talk to her. To discuss options for their future, and if she wanted out then so be it. He wouldn’t fight and argue. He’d let her go and take the children if that’s what she wanted.

It would still be a better future than the one he’d been living in. He wouldn’t let his greed and unhealthy jealousy get in the way of what was important.

Enji cursed his agency for being so far from home as the minutes ticked by— painfully slow, might he add. The sky was clearing up, and the sky was orange bleeding into a deep and starry lilac. It was just about five pm. Every minute closer to the dinner Touya never made it home to. He ran a hand through his hair and tried to ease his mind by looking out the window, taking deep breaths to calm his panicked breathing. What if it was already too late? What if his son was already charred down to ash?

He could feel his heart practically leaping out of his chest when the roads started looking familiar. He could see it from here. Sekoto Peak. No more that a few kilometers. He could get there on his own right now. He was fast, he could ensure he’d be there on time. Ripping off his seatbelt was enough for his driver to hit the brakes. He started chewing him out for being so reckless and for being in such a hurry, but his complaints fell on deaf ears as Enji opened the car door and sped off. He could pay for the damage later. But if he didn’t rush now, the damage then would be much more than money could ever pay.

“Damn it, hurry.” he muttered to himself, dashing up the trail he was so familiar with.

He remembered the first time he took Touya up here. Though at the time, the boy was much more interested in unique stones and two squirrels tussling in the leaves, probably fighting over acorns. He’d give anything to have walks like that again. It didn’t have to be here, it didn’t have to be now. But he wanted it so badly. He wanted it more than anything. And maybe one day Shouto would join them on the mountain.

The other children, Natsuo and Fuyumi. Even if they didn’t want to train, he wanted to take them here. And if they wanted to be heroes one day, he would gladly be their teacher.

“Touya… please be…” he couldn’t even think right now. He couldn’t remember a time he felt this lightheaded and dizzy. He could tell he was getting closer, it only pushed him to run faster. He’d run until he lungs collapsed. Even then, he would get back up and keep running. This was a moment that’d have to be pried from his cold, dead hands. He took a left and entered a clearing by the lake. He caught his breath as he looked around.

The first thing he noticed wasn’t the fact that none of the dummies had been used, but the sound of quiet sobs and sniffles. He took slow, staggered steps into the clearing, whipping his head in every direction. A hard lump formed in his throat and his mouth became incredibly dry. He couldn’t bring himself to call out Touya’s name if he wanted to. He only followed the sounds of his muffled cries until they started getting louder. It was only getting darker, they both should’ve been home right now. 

“Suck it up. Don’t be a baby…” That voice. The voice that always called for him so happily. That light, bubbly voice that the hero missed so dearly. “Don’t cry,” Enji approached the lake, and there he saw Touya, hunched over as he sat on a rock. He was violently rubbing his eyes, leaving them red and irritated as he tried desperately to hold back his tears.

“Touya…” Enji said, voice barely above a whisper. His body moved before he could think, and he found himself jogging towards the boy, hot tears welling in his own eyes. “Touya! Touya, oh, Touya,” he said, trying not to fall to his knees. He could stop the tears now rolling down his face, eyes not daring to close as he trapped his son in a tight embrace.

“Dad? You… you went to work. How– H– How are you here?” His words came out as strained hiccups. He didn’t hug his father back, but Enji wouldn’t let go. He couldn’t bring himself to do it. With a hand holding the back of Touya’s head, he held him close and muttered out an endless stream of apologies. “...Dad?”

“You’re okay. I’m here now. Touya, I— I’m here.” Enji said as though he was talking to himself. He quickly pulled back so he could see his son’s face. Hands planted firmly on his shoulders, he took in the sight he only got to see through a framed photo at the shrine in his home. The face of a boy taken from him far too soon. They were here. He was here. Touya, not Dabi. His first-born son.

His baby.

“Uh— right! I–I asked you to come here,” Touya reminded himself as if he’d forgotten in the first place. He pulled away from his dad and put a bit of distance between them despite the man’s tears. “See? See?” he asked, holding out his fist as a bright blue flame engulfed his hand. “I’m awesome too, right? An–And I learned it all on my own—” He stopped himself upon noticing his father’s solemn expression. “I mean… I can still do better! I don’t want to burn the forest down or anything so I have to keep it low, but I’m sure if I—”

“Touya.” Enji said, cutting him off. His voice was shaky, and the tears which rolled down his cheeks had begun to dry. “I’m proud of you, son. I’m so very proud of you.” He watched Touya’s excited expression shift through clouded vision. “I know that I’ve failed you. Not just as a hero… but as your father. And I’m sorry, I’m so sorry.” he apologized again. “If you truly want to be a hero, I promise I’ll support you with everything I have. But you have to choose that for yourself.”

Touya lowered his arms, relaxing his stance as he stared in confusion. He’d never seen his dad like this before. He felt tears prick at the corners of his eyes again, and he didn’t know what to say. Did this mean his father would start training with him again? Would they practice every day like they used to? Would he watch him grow into a hero?

There were so many things Enji wanted to say right now, but he held his tongue. He didn’t want to stress Touya by unloading years of unresolved feelings onto him all in one night. Baby steps, one at a time. Right now, he just wanted to bring Touya back home where he knew he’d be safe. He’d make things right this time. This was only the first thing on a list of millions.

“We’ll train tomorrow, right?” Touya asked, holding onto the sleeve of his father’s coat. Enji nodded reassuringly, and Touya smiled. “Hey, dad! Can we have soba for dinner? I know it’s late but I really want so–”

“We can have soba, don’t worry about the time. You can stay up late tonight.” Enji interrupted, just wanting to enjoy this time with his son. He just wanted to see him happy again. “Maybe you and your siblings can have a movie night, and in the morning we’ll go see your mother.”

He wanted his son back.

“Really? We’re gonna go see mom? Is she coming home? I… I need to apologize to her. And to Shouto. Do you think she’ll want to see me, dad?”

He wanted Touya back.

“Of course she’ll want to see you. She loves you very much, Touya. We both do.”

…

It was quiet. A little too quiet, and it made the others worry. He hadn’t come out of his office since he came back from his press conference. That’s when Burnin and Kido gave up on knocking and barged in expecting to see their boss engrossed in more work. But… that’s not what they walked in on. Instead, the found Endeavor passed out at his desk, fast asleep, it seemed.

“Huh…” Kido muttered. “No wonder the agency’s so quiet. The bear went into hibernation.” he joked. Burnin nudged him with her elbow. “Hey, what was that for?”

“He’s had a long day. Plus, he just got discharged from the hospital.” Burnin said, voice uncharacteristically quiet. “He’s probably really fatigued, we should leave him alone… for now, at least. He’ll wake up soon. Come on, let’s get outta here before we lose our jobs,” she sighed.

She didn’t mention anything to Kido when they left the room, but she was sure he noticed it too. It was hard to miss the tears stains marking the hero’s face as he mumbled incoherent words in his sleep.

Enji Todoroki didn’t believe in luck.

It was completely unrealistic. Something straight out of a fairytale. But in this moment, holding Touya’s hand again as they walked down the mountain they so often trained on?

He felt like one lucky bastard.

WC: 2.7k (not proofread)

a/n: HA! ‘Twas nothing but a dream. I’m just too much of a bitch to write him waking up so I opted for another option :p ALSO let’s ignore my godawful pacing please and ty

[keikiri-kitten]

SEEKING WHOM HE MAY DEVOUR ★ KEIGO TAKAMI

warnings: smut (minors and ageless blogs will be blocked), dark content, sacriligious content, blasphemous storytelling, catholic church, virgin!reader, incubus!keigo, non/dubcon, breeding, naive!reader, cunninlingus, female reader, sompnophilia (to be safe), corruption. there will only be two parts to this.

word count: 11k

MERCY FALL UPON THEE

God created all things beautiful.

Though no one ever seems to mention that he also created Lucifer. Though he creates beautiful things, It’s a testament that not everything beautiful is good. If it’s not good, it’s evil. However, what if those that were deemed evil seeked refuge? Is there really permanent change after repentance?

A soft whisper of wind whistled through a crowd of falling petals, brushing past a sturdy black suit. It was Keigo and his thoughts; with each step he took, his skin burned as he reached the doors of the church. He took some time to eye the building. Pure white all around except for oak wood roofing. It was a quaint little church with little to offer, but if it had a single member to fill a pew, maybe it could help him. With a rosary clung tight in his fist, the sides of the crucifix piercing into his skin. He wasn’t doing this for mere forgiveness from an old man who got off on listening to the sins of his congregation. The man was doing this to see if his soul could be cleansed and freed from the shackles of sin.

He knew with every angel brought down to Earth to complete a mission, there’s a demon surfacing to the crust to experience a similar fate. It was the age old system of good and bad. Both are needed. One has to suffer for the greater good.

In all of his twenty three years of life, he never once stepped foot into a place of worship. His spirit compelled him to stay away in fear of what he may find inside. Forgiveness was for people who committed sins. If he was the one born from sin and remained in sin, he thought that there was no way that mercy would be granted to his tainted being. Though he stepped inside of the empty sanctuary with a chill running down his spine.

His eyes grew at the marble altar he stepped towards. Decorated in religious statues, intricate paintings and stained glass windows, he could feel the power of the atmosphere attempting to force him to his knees. With heavy feet, he dragged along down the aisle in hopes to get just a little bit closer to the front of the decorated church— closer to God. The feeling that began to wash over him made his stomach turn. It was a foreign feeling and Keigo was no good when change was upon him. The beat of his heart began to quake and lose rhythm. While he wanted to run away, Keigo realized he was too far into the building to make an escape. His breath shallowed out, forcing him to suck in air through his nose. He couldn’t let God see that he was crumbling. He had to ask for forgiveness, cowering away was not an option. Not when he could be free.

As he drew near the altar, he found a seat in the front row. The man dropped to the wooden bench, blond locks mopping over his forehead as his head hung low. The sharp, long breath he took once he found a seat was a granted charity. Of course it was. Quaking, full hands clasped together with gilded eyes shut tight as he leaned over. Keigo’s hot pink, heart shaped lips were pursed together tightly.

“Please– listen to me.” His plea was choked out.

An anxious foot tapped along the spruce wood flooring. Allowing himself to catch his breath, the man before God kept silent. Maybe God could hear his thoughts. Though, the more he tried to think of a proper prayer of liberation, the less he was able to actually come up with the words to say. It was frustrating to say the least. His nose and protruding upper lip pressed into the thumbs of his hands to force himself to come up with the words. He pulsed his hands into his face, trying to get himself out of the sudden slump. Keigo tried. He really did. In fact, he tried so hard to come up with anything that he didn’t even notice a second body entering the room.

He also failed to notice the hand that was reaching out towards him until it finally landed on his shoulder. Wheaty locks of honey and platinum flipped away from his face to expose piercing amber eyes that chased the culprit who laid a finger on him.

You.

He spotted you in powder blue. Your smile was as pure as the energy that radiated off of you. “Praying waiting for the priest? He’s usually gone by now.”

Such a gentle aura bounced off you. You were surely born in sin but there was nothing sinful about you. Little did you know, you were surely a lamb. Though you were no angel, he knew they blesssed you. He could feel the purity in your heart and felt Mary in your heart. You had the power to infiltrate his thoughts. He fantasized about you; he saw himself fall to his knees, with his cheek pressed to your womb, fingers digging into your hips all while asking the Father for forgiveness just by looking at you. His eyes flickered along each part of your face as he lulled himself back into reality. He knew begging wouldn’t get him closer to God. Keigo took a moment to drown in your gentle smile, a corruptive wave taking over him. “No… I just needed a place to pray.”

“You chose this place?”

“Yeah?” Should he not have? He thought it was insulting, thinking that you were questioning his judgement. He believed you thought he made the wrong decision about coming here. Making the wrong decision about trying to seek holiness.

“I’d say you were called to come here.”

“Yeah, I guess so.” Sighing out a chuckle, he shoved his hands between his thighs to let them dangle over the edge of his seat, jutting his hips forward to sheepishly laze on the pew bench. Being wrong was better than right in that instance. His eyes fell from yours and dropped to the ground. His back ground into the wood of the bench, lolling his head into his chest. His smile faded fast, realizing the temptation right in front of him.

Watching him, you took pity on his weak position. He looked absolutely distressed. The bags under his eyes and wild look of his hair in contrast to such a cleanly get up made you admire his efforts. He was so beautiful. His features were sharp all across the board except the apples of his doughy cheeks. While you had him, you felt the need to make use of the time you had with this stranger. Immediately you noticed how less of an outcast you were in the church you were a member of. No small talk with the intent to leave you to your own devices. You saw that he didn’t even take the chance to be excused of your presence. Maybe it was selfish to believe that he stayed around for you. You were never much of a talker, but you believed connection didn’t need verbal communication. Relationships based off of this logic were one in a million for you. Maybe he was the one in a million. “Could I ask what you’re praying for?” Your stocky, modest heels shuffled you closer to the distressed man, taking a seat beside him.

It was sweet. If you were an ordinary whore he wouldn’t have thought twice about it and left you. However, when your knee brushed against his thigh, his eyes blew wide with a whole new sensation brewing in him. Keigo took only a few seconds before he answered, “I want forgiveness.” Tilting his head up, the golden locks that framed his face were swept away from his eyes. You could spot the glisten in his honey toned eyes, watching them drink your presence. “I want forgiveness— rebirth. I don’t think I can get it though.”

You took pity on his stance, “anyone is capable of forgiveness and a second chance to be close to God. He loves his children all the same.”

“What does he do to people who aren’t his children?” He quizzed. There was nothing you could say at that point. It was a question you wanted to know the answer to as well. “Feeling like you aren’t is insufferable I’ll tell you that.”

There was only silence out of you. He could pick up on the sweet perfume that lingered on your bosom as you leaned in closer.

“Would you like me to pray with you?” It was a simple question you posed him; placing a hand on his warm knee. “You’re worth much more than you believe and I don’t think I would be alright leaving here knowing you think otherwise.”

“You’re such a good girl,” you heard him whisper. His compliment sent shivers down your spine. His eyes flicker in your general direction, he wouldn’t dare look into your eyes as he asks for something so vulnerable. “Pray for me. Just this once,” he begged, “and then I will be able to pray for myself. Please.” It was such an odd request to hear himself come up with. His face twisted in frustration and uneasiness.

One thing about the good of the Earth: you never had to beg to experience it. Only after suffering will there come the light of mercy to wash your feet of the dirt from your treacherous travel to your present moment. No matter if it’s laid out for you on the Last Supper’s platter or you have dressed your eyes in mud to see clearly, there’s blessings at every turn. Hearing you say yes was the first taste of mercy Keigo ever received in a long time and he could have sworn he felt it on his tongue.

There was a chill that ran throughout his entire being as he felt your hands wrap around his. As if to startle you out of this gentle facade, he sat up, yanking your hands into his chest a little. “What if I don’t feel it?”

Your prayer was paused for a brief moment, lips twisted into a grin. “Be still and know. It’s not my favorite thing to hear, but it’s one of the most helpful things I heard. If your feelings are genuine, God will hear you.”

Relaxing, his hands loosened in yours, “alright.” His body turned to face you. Sharp eyes were hidden from view as he shut his eyes in hopes to find faith. You could feel your hands raise only after you shut your eyes, feeling the warm breath from his nose dance along your knuckles.

As you prayed for him, you whispered faintly. You prayed for him to find refuge; to build a better relationship with God and prayed for him to gain a pure heart. The discontent comment of lust didn’t slip past you, so you prayed for that too. One thing you would say? Is that you’re used to praying for yourself. Praying for someone else was a foreign concept, but if he was in need you knew you had to pray with the same passion as you did for yourself.

He tried to feel it. Keigo tried to feel the relief that he assumed most people under a religion felt. Nothing. He didn’t feel relieved. There was no sense of heavenly protection over him. Forgiveness felt so far away. It was frustrating to say the least. Especially for a life he didn’t ask for. While you prayed, he in turn thought about how unfair it was. What if he was an angel? Everyone had their missions and positions, but to be damned from the start was cruel. Not even a fair chance was sent his way. He had to seek beauty in a life that was carved in darkness and sin. If that’s the life he had to deal with? He’ll take from the prettiest of angels and drown in her fountain in an attempt to taste salvation.

And he was going to start with you.

A hushed amen left your lips as you decided to finish your heavenly plea for him. It shook you to your core to see him already staring at you. There was an edginess in his gaze that turned your stomach and filled it with butterflies.

“Thank you for praying for me…” his tone darkened, letting your hands go before flashing you a gentle smile. “You have such a beautiful soul. Don’t let anyone take the light out of it,” he advised.

Watching him stand to his feet made you blink in awe. He was beautiful in every sense of the word. His beauty wasn’t divine at all. He graced the allure of something wicked. His eyes were meant to enslave you and his smile provoked prurient thoughts. It lodged a lump in your throat filled with a feeling you didn’t try to acknowledge before. You were sure that anyone who caught a glimpse of him would want to run to a confessional and be forgiven of their sins. “I won’t.”

“I didn’t catch your name, angel.”

Muttering out a drawn out pronunciation, you noticed his genuine laugh. “I’m Keigo.”

Keigo.

“Hopefully I will see you again. Maybe in an actual service.”

“If you keep coming here, I’m sure we will see each other again.” Deep inside, you wished to see him more. You could try to break out of your typical introvertedness and actually sit in bible studies or Sunday services like you were leading on. You tried once before, but it was suffocating. For the time being you trusted only the confessional and the altar. Keigo’s presence was comforting. He lingered like a warm memory. One that you didn’t want to stop thinking about. Call it gluttony, but there’s nothing wrong with putting all of your eggs in one basket. It only served you wrong a few times.

The man above you nodded, grinning. “I will see you then. I hope you save me a seat. If I’m late?” He shrugged, tilting his head to the side. “Don’t crucify me.” Winking, he scooped his fingers under your palm, popping it up so he could grip it. Gently lifting it to just licked lips, he pressed a soft, damp kiss to your knuckles before making his way out of the church.

The sudden shift in his demeanor struck you in your core. There wasn’t manipulation in his aura— he still appeared drug through the gravel. However, he carried an apparent confidence he didn’t have before.

IN YOUR DREAMS

Sleep was an escape for you. It was a time to get the rest you needed while taking a break from the responsibilities of the real world. Though after the day you had earlier, Keigo left an impenetrable impression on your mind. The moment he left, his presence weighed heavy no matter where you went or what you did. Your ability to pray for yourself and loved ones was so impaired you simply chose to sit with God for a few moments before heading back home. Classes were over and there was nothing left to do than be left to your own devices. By the time you made it home, a good night's rest was calling your name.

Your dreams were never something to write home about. You weren’t one to usually have nightmares and your dreams were too elusive to even try to write down. Despite your dreams and nightmares, there was another kind of dream that kept your face flushed. Lewd dreams. They weren’t something you were ashamed of— they were normal. In fact, obscene dreams were so one-in-a-million for you, you didn’t even mind when you got them. It wasn’t as if you were an inherently obscene person. You had a small stash of sex toys but that was as far as you went. Those and sex dreams gave you more action than you’ve gotten any other time. It didn’t hurt to sit in any sex dream offered to you. The arousal in the morning was always rewarding.

You knew by the time you woke up, you would deny all premature feelings you adopted for the stranger you met earlier. Though as your mind went on autopilot, denial was thrown to the wolves.

You could see Keigo’s face vividly. It seemed as though he was more beautiful in your dream than he was in person. Though, the way you were draped against your bed littered in duvets and sheets, you wondered if this was a dream or a mere extension of your night. It all felt too real; the dent of Keigo’s hand pressing into the mattress as he hovers above you, his eyes flickering all over your face, the warmth of his body radiating against your skin as he flashes you a smirk. You even take notice of the tint of red in his golden eyes. They held a tangerine hue that made him appear otherworldly.

To him it was a part of what made him a natural born sinner– a demon of sorts. People were forced to believe they had off brand dreams when in reality he spent their night feeding off of their energy and soul. Women really. He’d get them into a paralyzed state and admire them before taking advantage of their bodies. All of this was for the sake of kepeing himself alive one more day. It wasn’t every night that he did this, but surely enough that would be concerning to an outsider. His only saving grace was that he didn’t even have to break into their homes to do it– technically. Keigo would go for easy women he met the day of or the day before. It was rare that he went for women he really liked. Mainly because why like anyone at all if your natural needs are being met? You on the other hand weren’t easy; you were clean and virginistic. It was one of the many attributes about you that he doted on. He simply wanted to peek into your world and use that night as a proper thank you for praying for him.

It’s not often that Keigo decides to infiltrate the dreams of women who help him. In fact, he doesn’t do it at all. Good girls should go to Heaven and not be ruined by the hands of demons such as himself. Though, if he were seeking forgiveness by God and silently held claim over you, you would have to make it to Heaven. Even if he didn’t. While he may be demonic, he still has some form of moral value to his life and others. Women were typically a means of pleasure, but if he caught the right one, she was a simple treasure he would spare. If you were someone who lacked morals, this would be a different story. You were not the woman he wanted to take advantage of. You were to be cherished and he understood that the moment he laid his eyes on you. It’s not to say that he feels bad about being in your space because he doesn’t. If the blonde had to put your consciousness in limbo to spend more time with you, that's exactly what he would have done. You lived in his mind since he left you earlier that day. While he wasn’t able to give a proper goodbye in person, maybe he could wish you well in your dreams.

He never would have thought that lambs were vixens. Watching you adoringly, he spotted you spread out on your sheets with the blankets kicked away from your figure. You laid peacefully, braless with a modest two toned cheeky pair of underwear and a tight cropped tee. If he knew that he was going to be blessed with you adorning a matching red and blue set, he would have visited you with a little more haste. He could recognize the Mary and Jesus influences in your color palette.

As you thought you were dreaming, you spot him above your figure. A shiver ran your body hot as the hand that was dug in the bed lifts to caress the side of your face. The velvety pad of his thumb grazes the apple of your cheek. There’s a quickening pace of your heartbeat as he leans his chest into yours and his nose brushes against yours. Something about his hands interacting with your body was eerily realistic. Suddenly, his hand rips from your cheek and wraps around the height of your neck. “You’re such a pretty girl,” he whispered. “If I could take you with me, I absolutely would.” It’s an ominous statement but he says it with his lips on yours. “Would you let me?” He grumbles, shifting his body while unintentionally rutting his hips into yours. “Would you let me take you with me?”

Keigo didn’t want to hear your answer. It’s not like you could have answered anyways. Instead, he kissed your lips carefully. You seemed like such a gentle virgin that a rough kiss would’ve sacrificed his lamb. “You know what I see when I see you?”

You had enough consciousness to shake your head no, earning a breathy laugh along the corner of your lips.

“I see God when I look at you,” he whispered, pulling away to gaze into your eyes. “He’s in your eyes.” He existed in a devious atmosphere though there was a tender look in his eyes. He wanted to preserve the innocence you waded in the best he could. “You’re the prayer I couldn’t get out.” He said it as if he cherished every part of your being. Your mind, body and soul were meant to stay virtuous. There was a soft coo in his tone, “God, I would hate to see the day she makes it to Heaven and I’m not there beside her.”

As you tried to reach your hand out to touch him, your body felt as if it were held down by stones. Your movement was limited. As much as you tried, you could only twitch a leg against his. It was almost torture not being able to indulge in this dream. Full fingers wrapped around your hand as they guided it up the side of his face. Soft moments like that never came with the position. He was able to touch you but you weren’t able to touch him– properly. With your hand against his skin, it felt as though your brain was trying to conceptualize the sensation of his face rather than knowing what he felt like…what skin felt like. The demon could see the itch you had to speak, but the question you burned to ask was a thought that he was still able to understand.

“What makes you think you think you wouldn’t make it to heaven?”

It was a simple question really. Your question filled his mind naturally but he was not intrigued or amused by it. You could see the disdain on his face.

Shaking his head, he stifled out a chuckle. He had no intention of being interrogated. Keigo was grateful towards you nonetheless. With unfathomably husky hands, the man was cautious while touching you. They trembled tracing the round of your breats, dragging them down your ribcage, lacing down your waist to sneak them uner your top.

And while he did all of this, you let him. You never really had control when it came to your dreams anyways. With a hitch in your breath, he shut his eyes and let his own exhale shake. “… how do you not let the world corrupt you?” leaning his face agaisnt yours once again, the beat of his heart pounded in his chest as his fingertips hiked to the band of your panties. Eager hands swept them down and off your body, tossing them to the ground before hovering his lips over yours. He wouldn’t allow himself another kiss. His time was limited. If Keigo kissed you then, he would never leave– and that had dire consequences.

This was corruptive; Keigo understood the implications of tainting you but he didn’t care. He made sure to keep his eyes on you. Attention was imperative and seeing the look of anticipation on your face made the demon's heart flutter. You were so beautiful to him. You were his salvation but he just wouldn’t say it. Familiar damp kisses trailed the back of your thighs as he hoisted them up. It was an offering. Shoving the tip of his nose in the dough of your flesh to take in your scent was a promise to cherish the angel under his control. The incubus bit your skin like a man starved.

It wasn’t enough.

A shock of electricity ran through you as you felt a gentle lap against your clit. Though it felt good, you couldn’t understand why out of all people this was the person you were envisioning doing this to you or why your body didn’t have the desire to tear him off or wake up. It was an unconscious kick that made the man devouring you stifle a laugh as he suckled at your cunt. A hand of his pulled at the meat of your thigh, pulling it back and allowing you to dig your heel into his back.

Fiery eyes lifted from your womb to spot the frustrated look on your face. Oh how he could see heaven in your eyes. It was easy to spot the angel's cry as your vision narrowed in on him. The only time you could the texture of his hands properly was when he wrapped greedy hands around your inner thighs. The mop of blonde on his hair draped over his forehead as he continued to peer at you. Keigo worked his jaw against you though as he did, he felt his body begin to burn. As you felt him pushing his face deeper into your cunt, you were eager to hold onto anything you could. Your hands quaked in hopes to grip anything but to no avail. It was all so captivating to Keigo.

Such an eager, good girl.

His hand rose off of your thigh and gripped one of yours. As he balanced himself on his knees, he pushed himself a bit deeper into you, quickening the pace of his tongue. His hair tickled your skin, feeling him ravenously feed on you. As he did this, he started to focus less on you physically and more so what you did for him mentally and emotionally. That wave of relief he tried chasing earlier that day finally crashed into him. Liberation bastardized his sinful thoughts when he was against you. He was so lost in his head, he didn’t realize you were trembling out an orgasm on his face. Hearing your whimpers forced him out of his mind, gripping your flesh tighter and lapping at you faster. A protective hand reached out for yours, groaning into the heat between your thighs.

With a shrill gasp, your body was forced awake and the dream was over. Your breath was hard to grasp. The false realism of your dream left you disoriented and terrified. Shooting up from the bed to sit up, you gripped the sheets, taking in as much wind as you could. If you were wise, you’d find a good thing in waking up. He initially wasn’t going to let you. Your eyes chased every article in the room. Nightstands, dressers, pictures of family, your bible and window sills were all victim to your investigation. In all honesty, you had no idea what you were looking for. Keigo’s presence lingered in your room in a way no dream ever had. As your body jumps from an aggressive alarm from your bedside table, you disregared the dream.

Nine in the morning. Time to start your day.

SO WE MEET AGAIN

There was silence as he allowed himself to marinate in the sanctuary once again. He didn’t try to pray.

“What makes you think you won’t make it to Heaven?”

Rewinding and playing the same question over and over again in his mind, made him grow frustrated. What once was him staring at the altar absentmindedly, turned into him staring at it with far more intention. He was livid. Livid at everything. His fingers rolled over one another, digging his nails into his cuticles anxiously. They snapped at the edges of his nail beds not minding if he bled. There was no particular reason for the minor mutilation, but simply out of habit. Glossy eyes threw daggers at the Jesus statue in front of him. The one that was front of the entire church for the whole congregation to see.

He wants to be good. He really does. He also has to survive.

Keigo wants to know why he couldn’t be offered a fair chance like others. The idea of being bound to a place of everything unholy made him want to curl inside of himself. He had too much pride for that however. As far as he was concerned and everyone who knew him, he wasn’t greedy or prideful. He wasn’t wrathful.

It wasn’t fair. The man was disadvantaged from the start. If God was his goal, he had to be pure in all forms but he knew he wasn’t. As he grew older, the realizations of his life soured him and the perception he had of the world he walked on. There were thoughts rolling around in his mind about how virtuous some people could be. How virtuous you were. You weren't soiled in the slightest; you were glorious—and clean. It honestly made him jealous. The touch of your hands was gentle. They quivered around his but kept a tight grip when you prayed for him. You were genuine, refusing to turn him away. A complete angel.

He meant it when he said that he would hate for you to make it to Heaven without him. Keigo didn’t mean to latch onto you like he did. However, it seemed as though this underdeveloped symbiotic relationship was mutual.

Dreams for you in the following days were non-existent. You slept in darkness until your alarm woke you up. It had been that way for about three days before you decided the best thing to do was to head to church. You didn’t know why you were thinking of a man this way without knowing anything other than his name. Typically, dreams like this didn’t bother you. You were able to move on from them like normal, but something didn’t feel right about this one. As your feet smothered petals into the cement with each step into the church, you nearly drew blood biting on your bottom lip. You never felt the need to confess a dream before. In your opinion, you felt a little silly going out of your way to confess a dream.

But it was dirty. It was a dirty, filthy dream that was too realistic for your liking. You swore you could feel his mouth all over you like it was a couple of days ago. You remember how you couldn’t move even if you tried but he could twist and turn your arms and legs with ease. It was sick. The dream made you question if you even wanted that from him.

As you made your way deeper into the church, you could spot a familiar mop of blonde that made your face red. Being confronted with his presence after what you dreamt about made your throat tighten. You could feel the nausea rolling up your stomach with each step you continued to take. Approaching the man who was alone yet again in the sanctuary, he picked up on the sound of your shoes. Turning to face you, he immediately looked down to hide his smile before wiping the edge of his mouth. “If I knew we’d keep meeting like this, I would have invited you out for coffee.”

It’s a simple joke that made you stifle a laugh, but he saw the look of unease won your face and it worried him. Your stomach turns to see him, forcing yourself to face him after such a hot dream.

That’s when he stands, clad in the same suit he wore a couple of days ago. If there’s one thing he can do when sitting in a church, it is the ability to at least dress nice out of respect. “Hey, are you alright?” As he saunters towards you, a pair of anxious hands attempt to reach out to you before falling back to his side. Maybe you wouldn’t take them.

“I’m fine. I just need the confessional.”

“The priest isn’t here today. I saw him leaving.”

That made you quirk a brow at the man. Taking in his features, you noticed the gold in his eyes and how they glistened in your direction. “You seen him?”

“He was on his way out as I was coming in. I must’ve been a new face to him since he stopped me and greeted me,” he admitted. “His daughter wasn’t feeling well so he took off to get her from school.”

Keigo could spot the defeated look on your face, seeing your eyes leave his. He felt terrible knowing that you wouldn't be able to get what you needed. He could see your chest rise and fall in an uncomfortable manner. You appeared to be one more bad thing away from a mental breakdown.

“You don’t need a preist to confess anything.” He tried, palming the back of your hand before wrapping his fingers around it. “Just God, hm?” the touch of his hand was so familiar by now. It brought you comfort.

“It’s just–”

“I can go with you. You can confess to me.” Keigo suggested, eyes sparkling with care. “There’ll be no priest and I will sit right besides you. If you can’t face God by yourself, I’ll be there.” He hoped his offer wasn’t too much but just enough to allow you to feel comfortable with him.

Committing to tell the new soul willing to commit himself to God that you had a lewd dream about him made you shiver in embarrassment. Though, in all of your years in church you never experienced this much affection. Even from people you have known your whole life. “It’s–”

“It’s fine. Whatever it is, I’m not gonna judge you.”

“Alright.”

Suddenly, the hand that held yours led you to the confessional. You didn’t actually think Keigo took the time out to find the confessional but it made you smile knowing he actually tried. The confessional was a simply decorated box that stuck out like a sore thumb on the side of the wall, a few steps away from the altar of the sanctuary.

He caressed your waist, guiding you into the booth. Closing the door behind him, he sat beside you. He didn’t think about the proximity between you much. He just wanted to make sure what you had to get out was said. Keigo was thankful to be in the same space as you as you chose to confess. It would give him a chance to not feel so bad about his own shortcomings. Looking down, he heard you sigh. “It’s a little embarrassing,” your sweet voice littered in his ears.

“If you wanna act like I’m not here, you can.”

“It’s about you. I don't think I can hide it.” That made him lift his eyes to spot your eyes already on him. “I haven’t been able to dream for the past couple of days after this weird dream I had.”

Keigo knew exactly what you were talking about. His brows raised as he waited for you to keep going.

“I never want to confess these kinds of dreams because sex is natrual.”

“...we had sex?” he at least had to sell that he didn’t get what you were getting at.

“No,” you simply stated. “I had a dream that you… pleased me.” hearing you sound so timid made his heart skip a beat. “You told me you saw God in my eyes. That I was the prayer you couldn’t get out and told God you’d hate it if I made it to Heaven without you. You kissed me too,” you explained with pent up nervousness. “I feel bad for having a dream like this because I know you’re trying to get your life together and you want to see Heaven and I–”

Keigo didn’t want you to blame yourself. A part of him actually felt guilty that he visited you that night if he was going to make you feel this way. He wanted to apologize, but instead he kept a gentle smile. “All the shit I’ve done in my life? A little dream isn’t going to run me away.” Twisting his body to face you fully, he cupped the side of your face. “Your willingness to help me is one of the reasons I want to keep going down this little path of self-righteousness… whatever that means. I think it’s cute.” As he held your face, he leaned in a bit. He tensed up feeling your hand drape his thigh.

“I didn’t do anything wrong,” you whispered.

"You didn’t do anything wrong,” as he flashed you a smile, he pulled your face in closer. You didn’tt tense up. Instead, you relaxed. He knew exactly how to make you trust him with his instinct. Keigo didn’t want to allow you the chance to pull your face away from him so he latched his thumb into your opposite cheek, holding your face tight. “You’re so pretty, there’s a special place up there for you. Whether I’m there or not.” Golden eyes adored your beauty. Keeping you a few inches from his face, he prepared himself to give affection. If he wasn’t mistaken, it was the first time he’d done so. As he did this, you could feel your pulse through every part of your body. You thought your body was throbbing. Once he got closer to you, his lips ghosted over yours, taking the chance to relish in the fact that he was going to steal a kiss in the confessional. Something about this felt sinful for the both of you; while that was his normal, it gave you a rush. He gracefully melted his voluminous lips into yours. There was a delayed reaction in your hands beorfe they wrapped around his wrist closest to your face, kissing him back. His kiss was possessive and caring. He held a gentle vigilance, willing to follow your lead if you chose to act further.

Though unbeknownst to him, he held a power of dominance. There was nothing for you to fight when you were being held with a pair of lips on yours. Especially from a man who proved to be a caretaker. You knew you were secure– barely knowing aside. Besides, there were other church girls who did worse than this on Saturdays. Pulling away to catch your breath, you smiled. “You know, you don’t always have to wear a suit to church when there’s no service.”

“It’s a courtesy!” he whispered with a grin, looking down to spot your knees touching. “To the man upstairs,” finishing his sentiment, he sarcastically lifted his eyes above and tilted his head in a playful manner.

“I’m assuming no one has ever told you that he wants you to come as you are.”

Snorting, he came to realize no one ever told him that. “Well, would you like to go somewhere with me so you can see me in something other than this?”

You nod happily.

THE SAND IN MY TOES

The sand piled on top of his toes with each step he took closer to the shore. Keigo had his hands shoved in the pockets of his shorts, letting the heat of the sun beam against his tanned body. When he asked you to go to the beach with him, he thought it was a shout out into the void. Though, like the sprite you were, you never turned down the chance to get some air. As the day went on, it consisted of him adoring you taking advantage of your surroundings. Watching you gallop over the sand or yanking him into the water to cool off from the sun were only a few of the things that he replayed in his head as the day went on.

In that moment, you were off to get something to drink for the both of you (agaisnt his persistence to pay). He kept silent as he waited for you, heaving. He shut out the sound of others enjoying their time on the beach the moment he felt the chill of the water wash over his feet. Staring out to the vast space of water in front of him, there was no thinking to be had. Keigo simply let himself be.

You both hung around the beach for hours; Keigo was growing tired of being in the heat. You on the other hand were just getting started.

“Sorry!” he heard you call out, rushing over with two abnormally large cups in your hands. He never noticed your figure outside of the white bathing suit you pranced in until that day. “Here. You seem like a peach person…”

“Apple, but thank you,” he joked, turning his head a bit. He didn’t even have to turn his body around before you were right beside him. Taking the cup from you, he flashed you a dry smile. “How much were these?”

“Ten eighty two.” you snickered watching him glare at you through his shades.

“Each?!” watching you avert your eyes off in another direction, he scoffed. “Hell no. I’m paying you back,” he demanded.

“No! I wanted to do this! I always wanted to buy something for someone outside of Christmas and birthdays!”

Keigo sent you a raised brow and a small simper, “you’re typically a giver?’

Snickering, you shake your head before taking a quick sip before kicking your feet in the damp sand. “No it’s just my circle isn’t big enough or considerable enough to get them anything outside of those days.”

“Except me,” Keigo assumed out loud to you.

You nod. Your feet brought you in front of him after shoving yor cup in the sand. You took his hand. You took notice of how Keigo’s face fell the longer he spent his day out in the sun. Part of you blamed yourself. Were you too draining? “You alright? You’re not slick like you usually are.”

“I’m comfortable.” he replied, letting you hold onto him. “How are your dreams going?” The man pulled you in, wrapping an arm around your soft waist. There was no way that he could have known that if he visited you that your dreams would be revoked. If he knew that was a possibility, he truly would have been lapping at the loins of women far less holier than you.

The question made you flush. Propping your elbows against his chest, you sighed out. It was uncomfortable to say that a prticular sex dream prevented you from dreaming of anything else. As you veered your vision off to the side, you stifled out a chuckle. You mentally praised Keigo for being patient with your dramatics, “I’m still not dreaming. I only really had like– one dream and that was after the day at the confessional with you. Nothing too bad. It was a normal dream to have for me. Nothing outside of that.”

Keigo’s eyes never left you while you spoke. Instead, he took the time to wrap his wrams around you tighter, unintentioanallt digging the frozen cup into your lower back and swaying you both side to side. He neverminded the claminess of your skin pressed together as he was only focused on you. He felt pity on you. Dreams were a sign of a good night’s sleep. If you weren’t having them there was no need for you to even sleep. “You know, I didn’t think you were capable of having dreams like that.”

Scoffing, you rolled your eyes. “Why?”

“You’ve got this purity to you,” he stated simply. He didn’t know you well enough to make any sort of judgements, but that wasn’t going to stop him from making assumptions. “Even if you did have dreams like that, you never piqued me as the girl to go to church over them.”

His response made you smile. Being considered pure felt as if you were checking off a box on your personal, moral bucket list. “Sorry to disappoint you. I just don’t think I had a dream that actually made me feel that dirty before.”

Keigo could feel his heart drop at your feelings towards his little visit. “Dirty…”

“Not in a prude way, but in a ‘this is unfamiliar to me’ way. My family has always been big on holding out until marriage. It felt so real I thought I did something sinful even though all I did was sleep. Call it religious trauma. ” Clinging onto his waist, you bit the inside of your cheek after speaking.

You were a virgin. Fuck. sure he called you that, but he didn’t know you actually were. However, there was nothing he could do other than play along. “The family angel?”

The demon raised a brow at your scoff. “If that’s what you want to call me, sure.” shifting your eyes back to him, “they’re the reason I live by myself…and go to a church different than theirs. True bible thumpers; when you praise God, you have to do it their way. If you don’t, it’s not good enough or you're bound to hell. The bible is law.”

“Yikes.”

“They’re apostolic in the worst way possible,” rolling your eyes, you comfortably wrapped your arms around his neck before continuing to talk. “Once I moved out, I chose to find God my way. A way that I can wake up and not fear for my life with every little thing I do. It’s scary being on my own, but it’s better this way.”

Getting an insight on a christian’s woes kept him silent for a brief moment. While he was plagued with the fear of burning for all eternity, you feared even getting to that point. “My ma didn’t give a damn about that kind of stuff. She did the same shit I’m going to church for.” Snorting, he tilted his head down. It shouldn’t have been that funny to bring light to his trauma but he did it so easily. “I’m sorry.”

There was a slight chuckle that erupted from your chest as you watched how amused he was. “You still talk to her?”

“Nah,” Keigo sounded neutral about it. Shrugging his shoulders, he pressed a small kiss to her temple. “We stopped talking a long time ago, but I still take care of her when she needs anything.”

“Shame. I was hoping to meet her one day,” sending him a sweet smile, you received a grin in return.

“Whoa, one step at a time!” Keigo lightheartedly teased, though you felt bad for the disconnect he had with his mother. It actually made you want to ask about his father, but you chose to hold your tongue.

“Why’d you stop talking to her? If you don’t mind me asking.”

“It’s not like I wanted to stop talking to her,” he started, lifting his shades from his face and into his hair. “She’s just in a really tough spot that I don’t think she can get herself out of. I don’t have the means to bring her with me so she has to survive just a little bit longer.”

“I don’t think I asked properly why you want forgiveness,” you chalk up the courage to get more insight on Keigo.

The man stared into your eyes, biting the inside of his cheek. He appreciated the subject change. “My behavior?” There was an unsure tone in his voice as he continued to speak, “the way I live is shameful. I always blamed it on my circumstances, but—“ he paused. Usually he was good with words, but at that moment, he couldn’t find the right ones. He fell silent, just tilting his head back to take a look at the sun.

“You’ll get what you’re looking for.”

Whatever he was looking for, he found already. You looked in his eyes with such care and held him with a warm touch. The more time he spent with you, he could have sworn wings were budding on his back. Leaning in to you, he felt the need to change the subject; there was only so much vulnerability he could muster up in a day. “You know, I don’t feel bad for kissing you in the confessional the other day.”

You were a little put off from the subject change, but as you wrapped your arms around his neck. “You don’t?”

“Mm mm,” he grunted. “Your family got a thing against kissing?”

It was a funny joke to hear, but you shook your head. “If they do, I don’t care.” You took the opportunity to kiss him quickly but it wasn’t enough for Keigo. Pulling you in, he chased your lips once more before kissing you deeper. The lamb was a little rebel? How precious. “Keigo, I really want to thank you.”

Keigo stitched his brows together in confusion, holding you a bit tighter, worry etching in his features. When he heard sentences like that, they never ended well. ‘What? Why? What did I do?”

You thought it was comical, but he was not laughing. “Ever since I have been on my own– I’ve been on my own. Starting over means leaving old social circles behind and it’s been hard to start from the ground up. Call it luck or God putting you in my life, but I’m thankful I met you.”

Keigo knew how difficult it could be to open up and while he may not be the one to depend on vulnerability, he would hold yours in the palm of his hand and keep it close to his chest. “I’ll make sure you never feel alone again, alright?”

“You promise?”

“I promise.”

I LOVE YOU

Somehow, someway, you and Keigo were able to make dates out of the time you spent together outside of the services you attended. Whether he took his angel out for a late night meal or watched the stars in the middle of nowhere, he was sure to cherish every moment he had with you. That night after bible study was different compared to all of them.

You lived alone. It was one of the things you were proud of the most. Your place, your rules. Keigo could see the bible thumper influences your parents left on you littered all over the place. When it came down to it, you preferred it this way. It can be you and your thoughts. It can be you and God. That night, he was able to see how you lived. Just from stepping in the place, there was a burning feeling in his soul. You clearly anointed your space.

Though as he spent more time with you in the house, he felt better about it. You were a confidant; there was that one little thing about you and your home, a place of solitude. As if no matter what he did there, he would be protected by the angels he never got the pleasure to know.

You liked having him there. The company he gave you was refreshing. Being able to hear his jokes and more importantly his laugh thrilled your entire being. It almost brought you to tears every time he had to go back home and live for himself. There was never a time you wanted him to leave. If you could wrap him up and keep him by your side forever, he already would have been draped in a bow. For that moment, you were fine with being on top of him.

Both of you recently ran from his car and up the sidewalk to your place to avoid the rain that night. You both were shocked the priest still offered bible study with the way the rain poured down. Like clockwork, you both showed your commitment and went. Bible class was typically boring but informative. It was what happened afterwards that was exciting.

Keigo would hold you tight on his lap, admiring you. He loved chatting you up about the service or about your day when he wasn’t there to share it with you. He liked holding you this way. If you weren’t in his arms, he wasn’t protecting you. There were plenty of nights where he stayed over, waking up in the morning with your head on his chest, makeup still on and a little runny, with a hand wrapped around his rosary. He planned on staying over again that night but it would be for a completely different reason.

Your virginity was something that you were supposed to hold sacred and dear in a little box until the right man came along to unwrap it. Keigo helped you come to the conclusion that you didn’t have to be bound in wedlock. Sex was a confession. A confession of commitment and desire. And if you were reading the situation correctly, your stockings and panties tossed on the floor was enough of a confession for you.

“Keigo,” you whined as you, wrapped your arms around his neck, arching your hips off of him as you felt the head of his cock tease and prod at your entrance.

“Shh, shh,” he cooed, eyes flickering between yours. “You want to be a good girl for me?” He quizzed, tilting his head to peck your lips.

You whimpered, nodding, “yes.”

“Hold onto me,” he whispered. Sure your arms were dressed on his shoulders but you weren’t holding onto him. The anticipation filled your body with anxiety. So much so, that you were mentally overstimulated and couldn’t think to act on anything he asked you. Hearing that it would hurt from peers and pals added to the stress. Though you wanted to do as he asked, your mind was all too occupied with fear to follow through with his instructions. “Hold onto me,” he spoke sternly, tearing you out of your thoughts, asking you to be present with him. Feeling your hands caress his jaw, he praised you with a simple “there’s my angel.”

The eye contact he held with you was a call out to your soul; he wanted all of you to trust in his instinct to protect every ounce of your being. “I’m scared.” The cotton in your touch, the rush of your blood overheating in your ears were just a few of the things he desired to preserve. Your chastity made his eyes darken. If you were going to be corrupted, he had to be the one to do it.

“Look at me,” his eyes chased your gaze with a slight demand for all of your attention. Keeping a firm grip on your face, he made sure you couldn’t tilt your head to witness the action beneath you. “I’d rather be struck dead than succeed in hurting you, do you hear me?” he harshly whispered along your lips. “I’ve got you.” as he said that, you could feel the world slow down. It was easy to get lost in his eyes, finding a compelling comfort in them. The hold he had on your face softened, same as his glare. His words were law. Keigo would bare his all just so you could get a simple grasp of what his love entails. He expected you to do the same. There wasn’t a hint of animosity with the bite of his tone. It was a stern few words, though it was imperative you understood that you were the stars and everything underneath them. If anything, the blonde only used those words to help you relax and recognize the admiration and care he had for you. “You trust me?” The question was laced in hurt. You had every right to be scared but the thought of you not having faith in him made his heart burn from the inside out. Tainting an angel would come with its own list of responsibilities, but he was willing to face them all shamelessly.

“Yes,” your face morphed into a look of fear meshed with insult; there was no way he assumed you didn’t. You’d give this man every inch of you if all he did was ask. The incubus pressed the pads of his thumb and middle finger into the plush of your cheeks. There was nothing to worry about when he vowed to keep you safe.

“Look at me, don’t look anywhere else,” he instructed tenderly.

He could still sense the wariness in your face. A look of worry lingered on your face while your eyes flickered between his. “I don’t think I can do this.”

“We don’t have to do this.” His eyes grew at the force of your head shaking within his hold. Allowing you the chance to say no immediately made you change your mind. You wanted it. You wanted to do it. You just didn’t know if you could. “I know it’s scary, but we’re gonna go slow, hm? How does that sound?”

“Okay,” you exhaled, eyes welling up. His darling girl.

“Don’t let me go,” he coached you, pressing the head of his cock into your cunt. Keigo could have sworn his pupils were dilating watching tears sting at your eyes and watching them twitch in attempts to keep your composure. “You’re doing so good,” he reiterated. Your hold on his jaw tightened, digging your nails under his jaw bone. The man didn’t flinch at the pain, only breathing in sharply as he filled you slowly but surely. The shake in your breath was replaced by a rough squeak, shoving your face into his shoulder, hands hanging off his shoulders. The pressure of being spread open was uncomfortable though it wasn’t nearly as painful as you were warned about. You were expecting a stinging stretch, or waited for him to prod at your cervix so you could beg him to stop. His hand soon slipped from his lap to wrap an arm around your waist once you sunk down enough to rest on the meat of his thighs.

Leaning his head back on the back of the loveseat, he stared up at the ceiling of your apartment, feeling fleeting kisses trickle along his shoulders and up the side of his neck. He couldn’t admit to himself that you were his first virgin. You weren’t tight like other doggish men raved about. He didn’t care about trivial things like grip when he simply could relish in the little piece of Heaven that had its hands holding onto his unholy body. You carried a fleshy, warm perfect fit. The hand that captured your jaw fell to your waist, running up the side of it. Keigo’s lips peeked open, sucking in shallow breaths. It was as close to salvation he’s felt in a long time. The gentle love you sent him made him shoot his head back up, running his fingers through your nape. You felt safe in his hold. Resting on his chest made you feel like you won the lottery. Keigo’s affection was comparable to gold; so timeless and wealthy. His vigilance over you made you shiver. You could’ve sworn your brain chemistry was being altered when he catered to you. Peeking your head from the groove of his neck, he flashed you a sweet grin before he leant in and stole a kiss from you. “Keigo,” you murmur, watching him perk his brows in anticipation. That was until his eyes softened. The silence from you was all he needed to know to understand what you were trying to get out.

“Oh,” he hushed out, pressing a bruising kiss to your lips. His brows stitched together. He was honored. While he didn’t know if you were ready to say something like that just yet to him, he would take that small piece of glory. Love was an unattainable item stashed away in a glass case secured with fatal lasers in his regard. In that moment, he didn’t think he kissed you enough, he didn’t hold you enough, call you enough. He didn’t pray with you enough. However, this milestone made him feel as though he had the rest of his days to cherish you and all of the moments he could get with you.

He marinated in the feeling of your confession, startled out of it when he felt your hips lift. Careful, shaking hands wrapped around his lower face all over again as you were finally ready to try to give yourself all of him. Quickly, his hands grabbed the underside of your thighs to guide you so there’s no reason for you to be uncomfortable. “Mm, not too fast.” Through narrowing eyes, he kept his gaze on you, adoring the vulgar yet content expression you held. “God,” he exhaled. “He took his time with you.” Not only did he agree with your sentiments, he reciprocated them. Oh, if you only knew how much he loved you.

You nod along with him, taking notice to his parted lips that were cracked into an already fucked out smirk as his hands prompted you to grind on him. “Yeah?”

He nods, kissing the corner of your mouth, “yeah.” he assured you, swiftly running kisses from underneath your jaw and up to your cheek. It didn’t take him long before he forced your lips to meet once again. “You’re mine?”

You were his… and there was nothing in this world that could take that title from you. “Yes,” it left your lips more like a question though he knew it was only because of how flustered you were. When your eyes met again, you could hear your heart racing in your ears. It carried a constant heavy thud in your body that you barely missed his cock twitching inside you. With a gasp, you sent a stunned smile his way, tightening around his cock uncontrollably. “Fuck,” you whispered.

You were just the cutest. Your reaction made him snicker, tiling his head to the side, “you liked that?”

“Yes,” your eyes lit with fire from the feeling.

“I didn’t mean it, but I can buy you something that does that same exact thing,” Keigo teased, earning a playful hit on his chest. He was enjoying that little joke until his mouth gaped open feeling you tighten on him intentionally.

“I don’t want it, I want you.” you quipped, leaning in to sweetly nip at his bottom lip.

“You got me, sweet girl.” he teased. Keigo shifted his hips forward slightly. His hands slipped to your hips, keeping you pressed firmly on his hips. “Here, grind on me. It actually pains me to see you working so hard.”

With your body leant back, your palms pressed against his knees. There was more comfort in this position as your head lolled back. Keigo was proud of the confidence you suddenly developed, letting you control the pace. In the heat of the moment, you had no clue if your eyes were deceiving you or Keigo’s eyes actually darkened in color. A slight tangerine color. You felt a cold flash run over your body but with the man rutting his hips into yours out of instinct, it was hard to focus on.

Keigo’s eyes shut tight, helping you keep the pace with your hips. However, he felt the shiver in your thighs. A familiar feeling brewed in the heat between your thighs. You had full intentions to cum and Keigo was not going to stop you. In fact, he lifted his hands to your ribcage to pull you into his chest. His eyes fluttered open so he could properly stuff his face into the groove of your neck. He littered you with kisses as he kept one arm wrapped around your waist, protectively. The other empty hand rolled the shoulder of your top down before he tore it apart down the middle with a button tossed to the ground. A bra strap fell to your arm as he freed one of your breasts. If he wasn’t able to convey how hungry he was for you with words, he would do it with his hands. The tip of his nose dragged along your soft flesh. Keigo breathed you in, kissing you from your shoulder all the way down to your nipple to take it between his teeth to run a tongue against it. His ferverish movements made you feel adored. Your hands wrapped around his neck, slipping your fingers into his hair.

Keigo gave you all of his attention, love and affection. He dressed your chest in kisses as he held you close. His breath increased, being forced to breath through his lips to gain air. The heat against your bosom made you caress his head near your heart. As he felt his orgasm buld up, he rushed to kiss your lips. “You gonna cum for me?” he quizzed on your lips. You couldn’t even give him a full nod as your hips jerked out an orgasm. Keigo continued to kiss your lips, worshipping your body with his hands. Your kisses were meek and passionless but he didn’t care. He knew you were pulling at straws for a whole breath. Tending for you was nice and all, but the more he felt his cock twitch inside of you, a hand of his selfishly begged your hips to keep their pace. Like a gentleman, he didn’t fill your womb until after you finished. He held you tight, fingertips digging into your ribcage.

As both of you were able to catch your breath, he fell back along the couch with you pressed to his chest. Keigo searched for things to say but his mind was a blank slate. The hand that was on your hips ran up your tummy, over your exposed breast and up to your face. He let himself linger in your presence, he really did love you. He tainted his pretty girl but he could have sworn that there was an angelic glow to you as you stared up at him with doting eyes. You were the one for him. His angel. As the pad of his thumb caressed the apple of your cheek, he didn’t try to suppress his chuckle. Yeah, you were the one.

“You love me?”

“Yeah,” Keigo nodded immediately, observing your fucked out body. He was almost brought to tears looking at you. “God, I would hate to see the day she makes it to Heaven and I’m not there beside her.”

[emotionalcadaver]

Part 21: The Shadow of the Abattoir

Fandom: Peaky Blinders

Pairing: Tommy Shelby x OC

Summary: Tensions run high at John's funeral.

Word Count: 5,111

Notes: Warnings for references to violence, past sexual assault, and sexual content.

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Chapter 5: Dead Already

She told Tommy before they walked into the family meeting that she would not be casting a vote. 

Not because she couldn’t, or didn’t want to, but because it felt like the least agitating course of action. They needed to keep everyone, even those who so strongly disliked her, on the same page. Best not to anger any of them with the reminder that she was considered a member of this family too. 

They had enough votes for peace, anyway. 

Tommy also didn’t vote. She sensed both for the same reason she had chosen not to, and in quiet solidarity with her. 

Lucy kept silent through the whole meeting, for fear that if she opened her mouth, she would say something inflammatory. Polly’s hate-filled eyes were enough to put her on edge alone, and when she opened her mouth, Lucy had to dig her nails into the meat of her palms to prevent herself from flying across the room and throttling her. 

Hateful bitch. 

Things went into motion quickly, once the votes had been cast and peace was established. Weapons were stocked and then handed out to their men at Charlie’s yard. Lucy patrolled it astride her chestnut mare, Sin, eyes wide and searching for any suspicious faces she didn’t recognize. Orders in Romani to Charlie and Johnny fell from her lips as naturally as breathing. 

She was beginning to feel like her old self again. The girl who didn’t live in a mansion or have servants to prepare her meals or make her bed for her in the morning. Who made her money sweeping stables and cutting out men’s eyes with the razors sewn into her cap. 

Maybe there was something in the air in Small Heath that made violence more easy to enact. Or maybe it was just her, no longer playing at the role of a respectable assistant and lover to an equally respectable businessman. 

She was the assassin again. A spy. The woman who slept unafraid at a gangster’s side every night. The Red Demon had not died, or faded away. She had simply been asleep.

And now, amongst the smoke and hellfire of Small Heath, she was awake.  

∗ ∗ ∗

She stood back while the family members dropped off little objects; trinkets, letters, and flowers, into the wood that surrounded John’s burial wagon. But Lucy had nothing to give. No trinkets or letters to place on what would soon be John’s funeral pyre. 

If you have nothing nice to say, say nothing at all. That was how she had decided to handle this whole thing. She would not speak ill of John. Especially now, when his family was so openly mourning him.

Her back prickled, head turning to look around. Even though she knew they were safe–the Golds were nearby, just waiting to descend upon any Italians that thought it would be a good idea to try to crash the funeral–she didn’t particularly like being exposed out in the middle of a field like this. 

The metal from the mechanisms in the factories nearby shrieked ominously. It almost sounded like screaming. 

Maybe it was. The shrieks of all the souls she and Tommy had claimed over the years, never to be truly silenced. 

Slowly, the rest of the family stepped away from the vardo, gathering together in a group nearby. The strong stench of petrol burned at her nose as Tommy and Arthur dumped it out onto the wood and sides of the wagon. Tommy gave a speech, telling them of a war story that he had already told Lucy long ago. One of the many near-death experiences that they had gone through while in France. And the agreement that had followed.

“That everything after that was extra,” Tommy said. “And when our time came…we’d all remember–”

“You remember that God spared you,” Polly interrupted. “But what did you do with that extra time that he gave you, eh, Thomas?”

There was something about the way she sneered it, or maybe it was just the simple fact that she had to say something like that now; had to kick him while he was down and vulnerable and grieving just like the rest of them, and then spit on him for good measure, that made something inside Lucy snap.

“Polly, shut up!” Lucy’s voice rang out across the field, and Polly’s eyes widened, lips parting. 

Through all their arguments, all the bad blood between, Lucy had always tried to remain cordial. To keep the peace. For Tommy’s sake. Rarely did she ever bite back or even try to defend herself from the venom Polly so often hurled at her. 

At them both, really.

Polly snapped her gaze back to Tommy, an expectant look on her face. The expression that crossed her features at the realization that she would not get any help from him was like a thundercloud passing across the sky, covering everything in foreboding darkness. Around them, everyone else was very pointedly staring at their shoes or the vardo.  

Polly did not say anything more.

Lucy turned her gaze back to Tommy, half expecting to see disapproval in his eyes when she met them, but found none in the blue orbs that were gazing back at her. He blinked at her once, grateful, and then completed his speech. 

Finished, he moved to stand at Lucy’s side. She wetted her lips, still a little worried that he might be angry with her for snapping at Polly like that, but his side brushed against hers in silent companionship, so she figured that even if he was mad, it couldn’t be all too bad. 

Arthur went about striking the match that would set the vardo ablaze. The flames caught quickly, spreading and crackling madly as they hastily consumed the entire wagon. 

Tension mounted in the air. The smoke around them from the fire was heavy and thick. But once it dissipated a little, that would be when they were at their most vulnerable. She wondered if the others could feel it, even though they had no idea what was coming. 

At the first crack of gunfire, everyone but her, Tommy, and Arthur dropped to the ground. A few people screamed. Tommy held up an arm, immediately shouting orders not to return fire. Lucy pushed a lock of hair out of her face and lit a cigarette, unworried, eyes watching in the distance for the Golds. She’d been responsible for getting the message to Aberama Gold that Tommy had a job for him and his family, but hadn’t gotten to actually meet them yet. 

She was interested to see just what the man who put someone like Johnny Dogs so on edge was like. 

Shit hit the fan the moment Polly put it together that they’d used the funeral as bait, goading the Italians to attack so that the Golds could take them out. In the distance, she could see them approaching on horseback, bodies strapped to a few of the horse’s backs.

Polly was in Tommy’s face, and Lucy could sense him steadily beginning to lose his patience. 

“You used your own brother’s funeral,” she snarled, disgust in her eyes and venom in her voice. Tommy looked away, pinching at his eyes with stress. “When did we vote on this, Tommy?”

“So you’d prefer we play fair?” Lucy asked, head cocking. “You’d prefer that we let a couple more of you get shot on your doorsteps because…what? You want the moral high ground? I’m sure that will be of great comfort to you when you’re choking on your own blood,” she took a step towards Polly, wind stirring her dark red hair around where it rested on her chin. “If we want to stand a chance of winning this war, this is how it has to be, Polly.”

Polly shot her a look of stony hatred, and refused to answer her, again looking to Tommy, as if assessing whether or not he agreed with her. When he began barking orders to Curly to prepare a boat to get rid of the bodies, and a second boat for anyone who didn’t like the way he was running things, she stomped away. 

Linda moved to leave, announcing that she was going home and ignoring Arthur’s attempts to give her a key to a house on Watery Lane. Lucy growled in frustration, half tempted to scream at all of them. How could it be so hard to get through their fucking heads? The Italians didn’t give a fuck if they considered themselves Shelbys or not, they’d kill them either way. 

“She goes to that house, she’ll be riddled with bullets by tomorrow or worse,” she murmured, turning to Ada who was standing behind her. She shivered to think what the Italians might do to a woman alone.

Ada nodded. “I’ll take care of it.”

“Thank you.”

As Ada went after Linda, Lucy moved to follow Tommy in greeting the Golds. Aberama tipped his hat to them from his place astride his horse. Tommy sent them on their way to the yard, and ordered the rest of the family to follow. Johnny was planning to prepare a Christmas dinner for them all, since they’d missed it due to…everything. 

“Wait a minute,” he said, touching her arm as the rest of the family started to slowly pick their way across the field towards the yard. He didn’t speak until everyone else was far enough out of earshot. “Alright, look–”

“I’d say that I’m sorry for yelling at her, but I’m not. She deserved it.”

Tommy blinked, and looked like he was trying not to smile. “I know.”

“She’s being cruel just because she can.”

“She’s upset. About a lot of things. Justifiably so for most of them.”

She cocked her head, hand resting on his chest. “John’s death isn’t your fault.”

“Love…”

“No! It isn’t. He’s the idiot who thought it would be a good idea to let Audrey Changretta go. If he hadn’t, we might not be in this situation.”

“Luca would still be alive and coming after us even if we’d killed her.”

“Yeah, but he wouldn’t have nearly as good intel as he probably does with her by his side. Telling him everything she knows about us. About you.”

“Mm,” Tommy nodded, looking down, rolling his cigarette between his fingers. Lucy softened, leaning closer to him.

“I’m sorry. I’ll try to be nice. I know that the last thing you need is me and her fighting right now.”

He rested his hands on her waist. “Thank you,” he sighed. “I’m sorry, too. I know she’s…I know she’s been horrid to you. I’ve tried…”

“I know…I know you have, sweetheart,” she leaned closer and smiled at him sadly. “She’s never going to change her mind about me.”

His eyes lowered mournfully. “No. No; I’m afraid she won’t, love,” he sighed, kissing her forehead. “It’s not your fault.”

Lucy’s eyes cast down, remembering that time, during the beginning of her employment with the Shelbys, when Polly had told her to keep a secret, and she’d told Tommy anyway. She had her reasons, but still. She knew that wasn’t the real reason why Polly so detested her, but it had certainly fed the flames. 

Tommy’s hands tightened around her protectively. “You tell me if she gives you any trouble, and I’ll deal with it.”

“I’m sure I’ll be in for a tongue lashing of some kind at dinner,” at his concerned look, she gave him a weak smile. “It’ll be alright. Probably for the best for her and I to get a couple things straight now, before things really start picking up.”

“If she comes at you, you have every right to defend yourself.”

“I have a few things I’d like to say to her. But after today, I promise to be sweet as sugar.”

He snorted, pecking her lips. “You’re always sweet,” looking down, his gaze darted in the direction of where the Italians had been intending to shoot them before the Golds ambushed them. “But right now, I need her, Luce.”

She touched his face, sad smile small, but present. “I know.”

∗ ∗ ∗

She stood by silently after helping to set the table, an expression of mild amusement crossing her face during Tommy’s negotiations with Aberama Gold. Aberama flew a little too close to the sun with his request to be sold Charlie’s yard, and Tommy’s offer of a coin toss– heads: Aberama got the yard, tails: Tommy fucked his daughter–had her snickering towards the ground, eyes dancing to Tommy’s mirthfully. 

If it’s tails, can I come?

For a moment, his blue eyes grew alit with playfulness. Of course.

They both knew Aberama wouldn’t be flipping that coin, though. 

After, they sat at the table, Lucy at Tommy’s side. Arthur encouraged everyone to raise a toast to John, and everyone chatted while Johnny and Charlie prepared the food. Ada, Lizzie, and Polly arrived a short while later. Lizzie approached them, resting a hand on Tommy’s shoulder before moving to sit by Lucy. Tommy got up to go talk to Polly. 

“How are you doing?” Lizzie asked, taking the cigarette that Lucy offered her. 

“Fine,” she scratched at her brow with her thumb. “Tired.”

Lizzie frowned. “When was the last time either of you slept?”

“I don’t know…the night we spent at the Midland, I suppose.”

Lizzie pursed her lips. Be it in reaction to the level of sleep deprivation she and Tommy were both at, or because of the reminder of their time spent at the hotel, Lucy wasn’t sure. “Neither of you can keep running on fumes like this.”

“No,” Lucy agreed. “Don’t worry; I’ll make sure we both actually rest some tonight.” 

“Polly’s hopping mad over you shouting at her during the funeral.”

“I’m sure,” she sighed. “I’ll talk to her later.”

“Really?”

“Mhm. Clear the air. Then I promised Tommy that I’ll play nice,” she glanced at Lizzie. “How are you?”

She shook her head, looking down. “I still can’t believe John’s gone.”

Lucy shot her a sympathetic look. She’d never been able to entirely discern how Lizzie felt about John. She was pretty certain she didn’t love him, but he’d always had a soft spot for her, to the point that Lucy wondered if he was still clinging to whatever feelings he’d had for her that had caused him to propose before Tommy arranged the marriage with Esme.  

“I’m sorry.”

Lizzie shrugged, shifting in her seat, looking eager to change the subject. “Ada managed to get Linda to stay.”

“Good. The last thing we need is anyone taken hostage.”

“Yes,” Lizzie agreed, glancing around the table. “It seems like everyone is getting along.”

Lucy snorted. “Give it five minutes. I’ll bet you all the change in my pocket that the first fight to break out will be between Johnny Dogs and Aberama Gold.”

Lizzie raised an eyebrow, smile pulling at her lips. Lucy allowed herself to relax. The hiccup at the hotel had made her nervous that her glacially growing friendship with Lizzie had been set back a step or two. But it seemed not. “You’re on.”

They shook on it, smiling at each other and smoking into the already hazy gray air of the yard. 

∗ ∗ ∗

“Lizzie says it’s only whores these days,” Polly said. Tommy wetted his lips, uncomfortable.

“Yep. And Lucy.”

Polly scoffed at her name, and he felt himself bristle. She could take as many swings at him as she liked for all he cared, but the second she started in on Lucy, he could feel his frustration with her returning. 

He bit his tongue. But only managed to get a little further into the conversation before he was standing and shouting. Because the hateful looks and pointed verbal jabs had to stop. They couldn’t be infighting. Not right now. Later, when the Changrettas were dead, Polly could despise him as much as she liked. But not yet. He needed her. Without her, it would be much harder to hold everything together. 

And because she was scaring him. 

He’d seen this all before. All of it. Right down to the fucking tablets. She was acting just like their mother did, right before she…

He shoved the memory of his mother’s death away, hard. Before it could fester. 

Polly stood, and he didn’t say a word as she spoke of the noose that had been around her neck, about how that made her just like him and Arthur. 

“And…her,” Polly added. She couldn’t even bring herself to say Lucy’s fucking name.

Tommy gritted his teeth, and forced himself not to comment on it. He just let Polly talk, listening to her suggestions for what they did regarding the factories and Aberama Gold. She was still sharp when she put her mind to things. Perhaps, now with enough motivation, she could pull herself together. Maybe she would come back to him. 

“Polly,” he called, when she began to walk away. He took a step towards her, gesturing with the cigarette clutched between his fingers as he spoke. “Lucy has some things she’d like to say to you. And then she wants to let this conflict between the two of you end.”

Polly’s eyes had narrowed at the mention of his lover’s name, mouth setting in a firm line. Tommy tried to smile good naturedly, though he was pretty sure it came out as more of a grimace. 

“Come on, Pol. We can’t be fighting amongst ourselves. Not right now. Lucy’s on our side–”

“Your side,” Polly interpreted. 

“What?”

“She’s on your side, Thomas. Not ours.”

“What fucking difference does it make?”

She rolled her eyes. “Of course it doesn’t fucking matter to you. You never have to worry about her–”

“Neither do you.”

“That girl would kill me in an instant if she thought I ever were going to hurt you.”

“Well, don’t try to hurt me and we won’t have a fucking problem, then, will we? Eh?”

She just fixed him with that dark gaze, anger brewing at the edges of it, and Tommy sighed. 

“Look, right now, we have to focus on what’s happening in front of us. And right now, Lucy is one of our family’s strongest allies. So you need to figure out a way to coexist and work with her.”

Polly continued to just stare at him, jaw flexing while she pursed her lips. Tommy felt his frustration spike.                    

“Polly, please. I love her. She’s important to me.” Can’t that be reason enough to at least try to be decent to her? he added silently. Even though he knew it was futile. He’d given up on Polly ever warming to Lucy long ago. So, instead, he said, “can’t you at least try to be civil towards her?” 

Polly still said nothing, looking away from him towards the table, where Lucy was seated talking with Lizzie and Ada. Her red hair was a blot of bright color in otherwise gray of the yard, her small figure leaning forward slightly in her chair, elbow resting on the table with a cigarette clutched between two fingers, bright red polish adorning her nails. She smiled, laughing softly at something Lizzie said.

Tommy caught himself becoming momentarily lost in the beauty of it. The way it pulled at her cheeks and crinkled the skin around her eyes, face lighting up. 

She looked out over the yard, smile slowly fading, and then leaned over to mumble something to Lizzie before standing. Some of the men at the table were getting a bit rowdy, and Tommy suspected that the noise was getting to her. She slipped silently from her chair, black coat billowing out around her while she strode in the direction of the stables.     

“I need there to be peace between you two, Polly,” he took a deep breath. He had understood, much as it had hurt, why she had never been able to accept Grace. She had betrayed the family, and while Tommy had made the decision to forgive her, not everyone else had been so accommodating. He tried to be understanding of that; to remember that they all had good reason to be wary of her. After all, none of them knew Grace like he and Lucy had.

But Lucy had never betrayed them like Grace did. If anything, she had been one of the most loyal and competent people in the entire family. To him, Polly’s hatred of Lucy would always be unjustified. And they needed her. 

He needed her.   

“There will never be peace, Thomas,” Polly said sagely. “I give you the same answer that I gave at the family meeting,” she took a step forward, head angling up to stare steely into his eyes. “Truce.”

Tommy looked at her hard, fighting to keep all expression wiped off his face. To not let her see just how much that hurt him. He supposed that, deep down, he had always known that Polly would rather he be miserable and alone than for him to be happy and with Lucy. He took a step forward. 

“You will work with her; you will be decent towards her. Or you’ll be having to deal with me.”

Polly shook her head. “Always choosing her over your own family,” she hissed. 

Tommy felt his temper teeter dangerously close to snapping. He scoffed. “Yeah, well,” he looked around, at the faces of people who, but a few days ago, hadn’t even been willing to speak to him. When things were good, they had no need for him outside of the money he lined their pockets with. But when things were bad, they all came running back, expecting him to fix all their problems with a wave of his right hand. Lucy was the only one who had forever been a constant. Always there, more matter how good or bad their circumstances were. She was not with him for money, or material things, or even status. She’d live under a bridge with him if she had to. He knew. She’d told him. 

He looked back at Polly, allowing the armor he carried in his eyes to slip slightly, letting her read what he was thinking while he shrugged. Maybe to hurt her. Maybe to try to get her to understand. Maybe both. “Can you blame me?”

∗ ∗ ∗

Lucy ran her fingers along Sin’s flank, giving her a small pat while she snorted. “I know, girl. I know,” she leaned her head against the horse’s side with a sigh. Footsteps sounded behind her, and she turned to see Polly approaching, black coat clutched tightly around her. Lucy forced her back to remain straight, giving Sin one last pet and then pulling away to step out of the stable. Nerves prickled at her, skin suddenly feeling clammy and hands jittery. Being alone with Polly always made her nervous. 

Clearing her throat and wiping her hands on the front of her trousers, she worked hard to keep her anxiousness off of her face. Sin, as if sensing her sudden jolt of nerves, poked her head out of the stall. Lucy stroked her nose, appreciating the solitary before turning to Polly.

“How’s Michael? I heard that you went to visit him…”

Polly didn’t say anything for a moment, coming to a stop in front of her, chin tilted up. She pulled out one of her clove cigarettes and lit it. “Become quite grand, haven’t you? Now that you’ve gotten him all to yourself.”

Lucy hesitated, momentarily caught off balance at the immediate combativeness in Polly’s tone. No pleasantries, then. Right. “And whose fault is that?” she asked quietly.  

“Don’t act like it isn’t what you’ve always wanted.”

“Actually, no. That isn’t what I want. You’re important to Tommy. I’ve never wanted to drive any of you away. You all chose to leave.”

“He abandoned us to the noose–”

“He saved you from the noose.”

“We wouldn’t have been at risk of hanging in the first place if not for him.”

“Oh, I see. So you were forced into all of the decisions you made leading up to that. Never given the chance to leave? Had a gun to your head all these years, is that what you’re saying, Polly?” she turned away, grabbing a few sugar cubes from the sack nearby. “Besides,” she moved back to Sin, “if you hadn’t blathered on about killing a policeman to the priests, you likely wouldn’t have been connected to Campbell’s death or arrested in the first place,” she held out the sugar cubes for the horse to eat, then rounded on Polly. “You were never supposed to end up in a noose. Things happened. We adjusted. We got you out in time. It’s funny,” she shot Polly a humorless smile of her own. “You hate me so much…and yet I was the one who delivered the letters to the appropriate people to save all your ungrateful necks.” 

Polly’s lip pursed around her cigarette. “Dead already…I understand that, now. After the noose, everything changed. I was dead and then I wasn’t,” she smiled wickedly. “Just like you, Arthur, and Tommy.”

Lucy half wanted to laugh at the idea that almost being hanged could in any way equate to the experience of hunkering down in the mud while gunfire blasted at you from every angle, as Tommy and Arthur had done. Or being gang raped, brutalized, and buried alive, forced to dig one’s way out, like she had.

Almost being executed was a trauma, for sure. But she didn’t think it was quite the same thing as what she, Tommy, and Arthur had experienced. 

Polly took a step closer to her, and was quiet for a moment. When she spoke again, her voice was hard and authoritative. “You will not speak to me like you did at the funeral ever again. Do you understand?”

Lucy gave her an unimpressed look. “I don’t take orders from you. And I’m not going to promise not to defend Tommy if you try to take any more swipes at him. What you said to him during his speech was cruel, Polly. He’s grieving too, you know.”

“So you want me to believe that you were trying to protect him?”

“Yes. You don’t…you don’t always see the way that your words actually hurt him. He’s not made of stone, Polly. He gets hurt. More easily than he’d like anyone to know.”

Polly shook her head, baring her teeth at her. “But you do, right?” she stepped forward, and it took all of Lucy’s willpower not to take a step back in response. Polly reached out and took one of Lucy’s red curls in her hand, pushing it behind her ear. The movement could have been tender had it not been for the contempt shining in Polly’s dark eyes. “The one he always talks to. The one who understands him better than anyone, that’s what you are, right? The one he lets in,” she shook her head. “God, he’s never seen you for what you really are. You must have a fucking treasure trove between your legs to have him so blinded.”

“Polly…”

“Selfish. Two-faced. Empty. I saw it the first time I’d laid eyes on you,” she dropped her hand from Lucy’s face. Lucy swallowed around the hurt, wondering how, after so many years of suffering insults by this woman, her words still managed to cut so deeply. “I’m back. Things are going to change for you now.” 

Lucy’s brows knitted at what she could only interpret as a thinly veiled threat. She wondered what Tommy would have to say, when she told him about it. “What are you doing?” she asked, truly baffled. “All these fucking years, Polly…you really still want to drive me out of his life?” the silent, stony look she was met with was answer enough. Shaking her head, she let out a tiny laugh. “Are you really that desperate to have him to yourself that you’re willing to see him be lonely and miserable forever so long as you achieve that goal? You fucking…” she took a step back, rubbing at her eyes and continuing to shake her head back and forth, a humorless, bewildered smile still plastered to her face. 

She took a step forward. “You say I’m selfish, but what about you, Polly? Where were you this past year? Hm? You abandoned him. You throw fits when he confides in me…but who the fuck else is he supposed to confide in? Especially when you’re off deserting us for a year, or getting drunk and spilling our secrets to priests and painters and fuck knows who else?”   

She forced herself not to waver from Polly’s furious gaze. “Where have you been when he needed you? Really? I’m the one who takes care of him, Polly. When he has nightmares, I stay up with him all night. I held him and cried with him night after night when Grace died. I’ve looked after him for the past year when you all decided to up and abandon him. And I have always been happy to do it. I love him; all I’ve ever wanted is to help him.”

She angled her chin up, knowing that her eyes were blazing. “You want so badly to be the person he tells everything to. To be the only woman of true significance and influence in his life,” she shrugged, one eyebrow cocking upwards. “But if you wanted that position in his life so badly, maybe you should have fucking been here.” 

Polly’s jaw set, but Lucy could have sworn she saw something soften and shift in her gaze. It was hard to be sure, but she thought for a second it might have been a flicker of respect. She took a deep breath, pulling her lips in and rubbing them together, looking away to Sin, raising her hand to give the horse a single stroke down her nose.

“I promised Tommy that after this conversation, I would do my part to play nice with you. And I intend to keep it. You and I were able to tolerate each other before. We can do it again.”

“It’s not like we have much fucking choice,” Polly grumbled.

“No,” Lucy agreed, tucking a stray curl behind her ear. 

“You are right, that you have looked after him. That’s why I told Tommy I would agree to a truce with you. Same as what I’ve agreed to with him.”

“I can agree to that.”

Polly nodded curtly, and without a word, turned heel, departing from the stables, and leaving Lucy alone with the horses and the smell of hay. 

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[rayshippouuchiha]

Great! You watched it so that means I don’t have to hold back! Mwahahaha you activated my hidden trapcard 😈

Jk jk but anyway LUCIFER MORNINGSTAR RIGHT??

Like, first they HAD to reinvent the whole Bible Genesis story to make him as freaking sympathetic as possible. I mean, a little dreamer whose ideas were dismissed? Who falls in love with a woman because he admired her “fierce independence”, then freaking gifts humanity in general and Eve in particular with FREE WILL? (I have so many headcanons about them btw; Adam being the way he is I think he and Lilith wanted Eve to have the chance to make decisions regarding her own body, relationship, and future that a life under Adam’s thumb as heaven had inteded would’ve denied her. I think they were very good friends once upon a time., and it kills me that we never see Eve again. Did she blame them for being kicked out of Eden? Or was she grateful to them? I’d love to know, I hope we see her next time). That’s all so freaking good already as a backstory, but then they add this:

At this moment my mind just, imploded with the implications. He gifted humanity with free will presumably because, as a joyous dreamer, he had firmly believed that they would create wonderful things and bring about a better world if they were allowed to think for themselves, but gradually over hundreds and thousands of years seeing only the absolute worst that humanity had to offer he seems to think that it was a mistake, and that’s so sad 🥺 He never got to see the good that came from his actions and became depressed as a consequence, probably blaming himself a bit for every ill-action and sin committed.

I was already primed to love him after that backstory right? But then they imply that he’s a neglectful, distant father to Charlie and she is such a good, pure girl that I started thinking maybe I was wrong to start liking him, maybe there was something off about him that the intro had left out since it was Charlie telling her parent’s story. But then we meet him and he’s just:

A cute, awkward little man? One who clearly loves his family to death if the ring still on his finger (after SEVEN FREAKING YEARS OF ABSCENCE, dear god) and the multiple, gigantic family portraits strewn about his room say anything?

Also, he seems like 2 steps away from an anxiety attack at any given time, especially when asked to speak over the phone. He just like me fr fr

And that, along with the fact that he says “this is the first time she’s called you in YEARS”, and that he seems so freaking happy and excited at even the insinuation that she wants to spend time with him,

Leads me to believe that his absence from Charlie’s life was caused by a mutual misunderstanding born of a similar thought process (namely “what if I’m bothering them? What if they think I’m annoying by calling when I don’t need anything? I should wait until I have a good reason to call, or until they call me”) or willfully by someone (Lilith does seem to take Charlie away from her father awfully quick during that one flashback, right? It’s not just me?). I mean, ^that’s not the face of a father who wants to stay away from his daughter because she reminds him of her mom, or even the face of a father who stayed away on purpose for some time and is now willing to reconnect. That looks more to me like the face of someone who has been eagerly awaiting even a single hint that he’s wanted before daring to appear before his daughter, and has now finally been given that chance after a long time and is ECSTATIC. And even then, it seems that even through his self-deprecation and depression he does do his best to reach out, at least more frequently than Charlie does (he called her 5 months ago, she hadn’t called in years, etc etc).

And then he gets to the hotel and he’s so small and cute and awkward and good with animals and I thought I couldn’t love him any more than I already did but I COULD. HOW DID THEY MAKE A CHARACTER SO APPEALING TO ME SPECIFICALLY THIS IS UNFAIR

Which leads me to my other big headcanon: I firmly believe Lucifer tried to get to know sinners in the beginning, and that he tried some kind of “redeem sinners” effort at some point, just like Charlie’s doing - Perhaps for hundreds of years. But he failed, time and time again, until his dreams were absolutely crushed and he ended up giving up on them for good. I mean, those lines:

“You invite people in and offer them everything and they just bring violence and chaos to your doorstep. It doesn’t matter how well-intentioned you are. They’re always gonna disappoint you!”

“Sinners are violent psychopaths hellbent on causing as much pain and destruction as they can. There’s really no point in trying”

^They all sound not like something he’s saying to rub it in Charlie’s face that he was right (which would be cruel and out of character for someone who seems to love his daughter so much), but more like a cautionary tale coming from a deeply ingrained experience, or like things he’s repeatedly told himself before.

And then during More Than Anything he says this:

“You didn’t know that when I tried this all before *gestures around him with his arms as if gesturing towards the hotel as a whole* my dreams were too hard to defend”

That just cemented that belief for me.

On another note, MORE THAN ANYTHING IS SO FREAKING GOOD?? I CRY EVERY TIME GODDAMMIT AFTER THAT SONG I WENT FROM “AW I LOVE THIS LITTLE MAN” TO “I’D DIE FOR HIM, IF ANYTHING HAPPENS TO HIM I’LL KILL EVERYONE IN THE ROOM AND THEN MYSELF”. HE’S JUST So- asfgctrdhfdg

AND I HAVEN!T EVEN TALKED ABOUT HOW BADASS HE IS FIGHTING ADAM OR HOW CUTE AND SWEET HE WAS COMFORTING CHARLIE DURING THE FINALE LOOK AT HIMMM

Or about Radioapple (aka DuckieDeer lol), the ship that has had me in a fucking chokehold since I watched episode 5. There are so many things I love about it that I’d need like 3 whole pages to explain but for now have all this absolutely fantastic fanart instead ❤️

Once again thank you for coming to my Ted Talk. Btw any thoughts on Radioapple?

Oh oh Lucifer is such an interesting character and he absolutely makes me eager to see and learn more about the verse and the finer points of what is/has happened in it.

Personally, RadioDust grabbed me by the heart more than anything, since Alastor is my favorite with Angel Dust as a close second, but I do hands down see the appeal of Radioapple.